Classic Poem

DESCEND , T HALIA ! from thy summer cloud,
Skirted with light, in smiling pomp descend,
Nor with a mask thy beauteous features shroud;
And twine fresh roses for my matchless friend!

I.

Thy smile sweet-beaming brightens o'er his page,
Thy hand, so delicate! each sketch refines,
Thou fling'st a radiance o'er his sportive lines;
Thou shed'st a lambent lustre on the Stage.

II.

Blest, by thy sportive A TKINSON approv'd
I'd teach my youthful lyre his name belov'd;
Ardent, I'd seek to reach his lofty praise,
As eaglets view the Sun 's meridian rays,
With eye unpractised, and a feeble gaze!