University of Virginia Library

The Lady smil'd forgive me muse,
Your Harp shall be return'd with use,
I ask'd it not the gift your own,
Shall be returned to you alone,
In yonder bower it will be found,
With clustring roses circled round,
I thank thee for its use so long,
For though I never pour'd a song,
Yet still my mind the gift posſses'd
And gave sweet feelings to my breast,
It made me share the poets fire,
And gave new raptures to his Lyre,
It taught my heart to thrill to sigh,
And brought ElyianElysian fancies nigh
But while I own Elyian Elysian Bowers
I need not care for fancyfancies flowers
So take thy Harp so great my store,
Of genuine good. I ask no more,
Of real good. so rich the streams,
Why should I ask for minstel dreams,
To take thy Harp the gift bestou,
To some lover wretch opprest with woe,
And as she strikes its magic chord,
All woes forgot all joys retur'd
The Lady then her bower sought
Released her Harp and as she brought,
Her hand the Lady carelesſs swept,
Acrosſs those chords which long hand slept,
They answer'd with so sweet a strain,
The Lady smil'd and play'd again,
To sweet the sounds, so sweetly play'd,
I cannot take your Harp she said,
Oh keep it still in favorite Bower,
Surround it still with many a flower,
Let playful tendernesſ sometime inspire,
To touch the long neglected Lyre,
The answered muse then charmed withdrew,
Lady I leave the Harp with you–