Classic Poem

AT A MASQUERADE .

G EORGIANA , Duchess OF D EVONSHIRE .

Enchantress, come! my mystic throne ascend,
To pow'r like thine no sybil spells pretend —
Vain are my prophecies of weal or woe
To those who thy superior influence know!
If my keen sight approaching joy descries,
One frown from thee , and joy for ever flies;
If my dark page foretells the world's distress,
One smile from thee , and all is happiness!

T HOMAS L AWRENCE , E SQ. , R.A.

Painting had claim'd all Lawrence for her own,
But Music still to wave her right was loth;
When Genius cried — Lawrence was mine alone,
But I, too generous, gave him to you both.

The L ADY D OUGLAS, OF B OTHWELL C ASTLE .

So wise, so witty, so belov'd! your state
Can ne'er by sybil magic be improv'd;
Would you a miracle require of fate,
Be then more wise, more witty, more belov'd!

The L ADY C REWE .

What! has that angel face receiv'd
No hurt? has Time forgot his duty?
Poor Time! like mortals you're deceiv'd,
It is not youth — 'tis only beauty!