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SONNET XII.
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12

SONNET XII.

TO MR. HAYLEY.

Accomplish'd Master of the charmed shell,
Whose touch can sweetly modulate its tone
To melting sorrow's elegiac moan,
Now the full chord with epic grandeur swell,
And now, the spleenful passions to repel,
In dulcet notes each Orphic pow'r make known
That draws, with art peculiarly thine own,
Round Beauty's magic, Temper's lovelier spell.
This votive verse, which kindling ardors frame
That flow from feelings not to thee unknown,
Accept, from one who zealous for thy fame,
May haply seem too heedless of his own;
Nor scorn,—tho' rival bards thy triumph raise,
The poor ovation of a minstrel's praise.