IN measure flowing, bold, or terse,
To hitch you in the Spells of Verse,
I've tried, E LIZA , oft at Morn,
And when the Stars the eve adorn,
When from the North chill Winter fell,
With loud, continuous, horrid yell,
And when in silver tones the Spring
Bade joy arise, and nature sing—
Some fatal Charm was doubtless in it,
Ine'er could catch you for a minute!
And will my pen then only pay
To giddy Youth the frolic lay?
And will my hand delay a strain
To one whose youth's triumphant reign
Was felt by every swain around,
Who all in Beauty's Charm were bound!
On what new Trifle will it waste,
Imputed skill, imputed taste?
Alas! my stubborn, wayward, quill
Is ne'er obedient to my Will!
Conscience will stir! it stirs my hand,
To scribble Truth!—it cant withstand!—
“Impetuous, ardent, is your mind,
Almost to Agony refined
By cherish'd Feeling. In your spite
Your pen thus, conscience-stirred, will write!
If, Poet weak! you fail your Theme,
If through the verse no sparkling gleam
Of Wit and Fancy can be found,
No well turned phrase, no thought profound,
If Reason fail, if Numbers halt,
Why to your Pen impute the fault!
All, you directed, it hath done,
And, in the track you prompted, run.
Tyrant! it longs to quit thy yoke—
Yet come! some sing-song Sprite invoke,
Look upwards to the golden air,
And breathe a fond invoking prayer;
Poetic Genii may descend,
O'er you their brilliant pinions bend,
New inspiration may impart,
Awake your Mind, excite your Heart,
Aid you due praises to bestow,
With Truth's firm hand, with Friendship's glow,
On her whose youth by Love was crown'd,
In whom sweet Beauty's Lines were found.”
Ah! surely I have known you fair,
As though your food were lucid air,
Have seen your kindled spirits fly,
Dart in blue flames from either eye,
Nor vainly did the lightnings fly
Shot without aim from either eye,
To every glance was Worship paid,
Ere veil'd beneath its fringed shade.
Enchantment lived where'er you trod,
The pleasures waited on your nod,
The Virtues too your track pursued,
And in your acts their Influence viewed!
Thus did your early Lustres glide
Ere came the year that hail'd you Bride !
And thus you led your married life,
A blest, adored, adoring, Wife.
How little prized all I could say!
You fired a Classic H USBAND 's Lay!
Who filled a Volume to your name,
And gave each separate Grace its fame.
My verse can little charm your ear,
Will cause no thrill, will swell no tear,
Ah! to a M ARRIED L OVER 's Lyre,
Faint is each other's Harp and cold its fire!
But, Heaven at length to you decreed
Its highest boon, a trying meed;
Assay'd with Sorrow! bade the dart
Wound, deeply wound, your widow'd Heart.
Grief so intense, still, but refined
The heart thus tried! and gave your mind
A softer shade, more tender tone,
As flowed for him the pensive moan,
Who greater Joy could never find
Than, pleasing task! t'enrich your mind
With every added charm and grace
For which there yet remained a place.
If the first Artist of the day
In full Perfection to array
A favorite Portrait of the age
With necromantic art engage,
He blends his tints, his hues he spreads,
And, rapt, before the Beauty treads,
Excited by a fire divine
Gives Sense in every added line!
In all the splendor he conceives
The colours stand; he next believes
A mellowed shade hung o'er the whole
Would bring it nearer to the Soul,
The shade is given, the work is done,
Immortal as the rolling Sun.
Such finish N EWTE bestowed on you,
Watch'd the sweet progress as it grew,
Then, left the blessing to C AREW !
Again doth Hymen grace your life,
Again you live an honour'd Wife.
Serenest days, the filial kiss,
With sweet domestic chearful bliss,
Enliven each succeeding morn
No longer pensive and forlorn.
Again a Husband's taste you prove,
With Learning soften'd down by Love,
No purer joy can e'er arise
To being favoured from the Skies!
To hitch you in the Spells of Verse,
I've tried, E LIZA , oft at Morn,
And when the Stars the eve adorn,
When from the North chill Winter fell,
With loud, continuous, horrid yell,
And when in silver tones the Spring
Bade joy arise, and nature sing—
Some fatal Charm was doubtless in it,
Ine'er could catch you for a minute!
And will my pen then only pay
To giddy Youth the frolic lay?
And will my hand delay a strain
To one whose youth's triumphant reign
Was felt by every swain around,
Who all in Beauty's Charm were bound!
On what new Trifle will it waste,
Imputed skill, imputed taste?
Alas! my stubborn, wayward, quill
Is ne'er obedient to my Will!
Conscience will stir! it stirs my hand,
To scribble Truth!—it cant withstand!—
“Impetuous, ardent, is your mind,
Almost to Agony refined
By cherish'd Feeling. In your spite
Your pen thus, conscience-stirred, will write!
If, Poet weak! you fail your Theme,
If through the verse no sparkling gleam
Of Wit and Fancy can be found,
No well turned phrase, no thought profound,
If Reason fail, if Numbers halt,
Why to your Pen impute the fault!
All, you directed, it hath done,
And, in the track you prompted, run.
Tyrant! it longs to quit thy yoke—
Yet come! some sing-song Sprite invoke,
Look upwards to the golden air,
And breathe a fond invoking prayer;
Poetic Genii may descend,
O'er you their brilliant pinions bend,
New inspiration may impart,
Awake your Mind, excite your Heart,
Aid you due praises to bestow,
With Truth's firm hand, with Friendship's glow,
On her whose youth by Love was crown'd,
In whom sweet Beauty's Lines were found.”
Ah! surely I have known you fair,
As though your food were lucid air,
Have seen your kindled spirits fly,
Dart in blue flames from either eye,
Nor vainly did the lightnings fly
Shot without aim from either eye,
To every glance was Worship paid,
Ere veil'd beneath its fringed shade.
Enchantment lived where'er you trod,
The pleasures waited on your nod,
The Virtues too your track pursued,
And in your acts their Influence viewed!
Thus did your early Lustres glide
Ere came the year that hail'd you Bride !
And thus you led your married life,
A blest, adored, adoring, Wife.
How little prized all I could say!
You fired a Classic H USBAND 's Lay!
Who filled a Volume to your name,
And gave each separate Grace its fame.
My verse can little charm your ear,
Will cause no thrill, will swell no tear,
Ah! to a M ARRIED L OVER 's Lyre,
Faint is each other's Harp and cold its fire!
But, Heaven at length to you decreed
Its highest boon, a trying meed;
Assay'd with Sorrow! bade the dart
Wound, deeply wound, your widow'd Heart.
Grief so intense, still, but refined
The heart thus tried! and gave your mind
A softer shade, more tender tone,
As flowed for him the pensive moan,
Who greater Joy could never find
Than, pleasing task! t'enrich your mind
With every added charm and grace
For which there yet remained a place.
If the first Artist of the day
In full Perfection to array
A favorite Portrait of the age
With necromantic art engage,
He blends his tints, his hues he spreads,
And, rapt, before the Beauty treads,
Excited by a fire divine
Gives Sense in every added line!
In all the splendor he conceives
The colours stand; he next believes
A mellowed shade hung o'er the whole
Would bring it nearer to the Soul,
The shade is given, the work is done,
Immortal as the rolling Sun.
Such finish N EWTE bestowed on you,
Watch'd the sweet progress as it grew,
Then, left the blessing to C AREW !
Again doth Hymen grace your life,
Again you live an honour'd Wife.
Serenest days, the filial kiss,
With sweet domestic chearful bliss,
Enliven each succeeding morn
No longer pensive and forlorn.
Again a Husband's taste you prove,
With Learning soften'd down by Love,
No purer joy can e'er arise
To being favoured from the Skies!