Epigram. Addressed to a Friend
If cares can quench the Poet's fire,
And damp each chearful-rising thought,
Make W — n drooping drop the Lyre,
Ere he perhaps a theme has sought;
Sure, if there liv'd a friendly swain,
Mild, merry, generous to the poet;
Inspiring joy, expelling pain,
To please inclin'd, and kind to show it.
Can words tell how my heart wou'd leap,
How throb to meet a swain so true!
Exclaim you, with affection deep,
" Lives such a swain? " — he lives in you.
And damp each chearful-rising thought,
Make W — n drooping drop the Lyre,
Ere he perhaps a theme has sought;
Sure, if there liv'd a friendly swain,
Mild, merry, generous to the poet;
Inspiring joy, expelling pain,
To please inclin'd, and kind to show it.
Can words tell how my heart wou'd leap,
How throb to meet a swain so true!
Exclaim you, with affection deep,
" Lives such a swain? " — he lives in you.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.