To Mrs. Cosway

Maria , that with glowing touch canst play,
And melt the heart, a Lyric Minstrel sweet;
Or Tuscan strains melodious canst repeat,
With tone inspir'd that emulates the lay
Though Petrarch (in whose lap the Muses lay),
Or Dante's blazing throne command thy seat,
Or legendary wonders, Fancy's cheat,
In Ariosto wing their glittering way
Through Fairy Land: — But these are parts alone,
Divided from the rest , whose jealous claim
Asserts their high pre-eminence in thee:
Why sleeps the pencil , though immortal grown
In thy Lodona's hair? The debts to Fame
Leave not a moment from their tributes free.
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