Classic Poem

on receiving a Lock of her Hair.

O H ! for that vision, by the Graces drest,
Which B ERENICE'S Bard so fondly blest;
Or His harmonions spell, who fix'd sublime
B ELINDA 's tress amid the starry clime;
Gave to immortal Song each female toy,
And from a Trifle rais'd another T ROY !
Then, my A NTHEMOE , o'er each deathless line,
Should thy bright lock with equal lustre shine,
Aerial fingers blend their tissued rays,
And Sylphids wanton thro' its auburn maze.
For, sure, with thine, not V ENUS could compare
Her rich redundance of ambrosial hair,
When Z EPHYR 's sweetest sigh its perfumes shed,
And lavish F LORA deck'd her fragrant head.
But ah! my weaker spirit tempts, in vain,
Th' eternal triumph of their lofty strain;
Befits me best, from Pity's gleaming eye,
The pearly drop of Feeling to supply,
On ev'ry hair to hang that hallow'd dew,
And fancy tears of Love whene'er I view.
Dear object of devotion! softly rest
Within the sacred Casket of my breast!
Nor gem irradiate, nor imperial gold,
Could grace thy glossy charm with gentler fold,
Nor yet thy braided magic hope to find
A truer Magnet to her tender mind!
Oft o'er thy guarded relique, shall the Muse,
From the sad lyre, her lonely plaint effuse;
Oft, o'er the precious pledge, enanguish'd, lean,
Still mindful of gay Childhood's sunny scene;
And in idea kiss, to rapture true,
The polish'd temples where it, lately, grew!