There too presides the gentle fair,
Who made me her peculiar care,
To me by every tie endear'd!
And still admir'd, belov'd, rever'd!
Skill'd in the rare and happy art
To win the timid, youthful heart;
By manners grac'd with courtly ease,
By playful wit, secure to please.
But who shall tell her mind's rich store,
Imbued with many-languag'd lore?
Who shall the thousand virtues tell,
That in her gentle bosom dwell?
Oh! could I catch from you, bright dame!
One spark of your immortal flame,
My verse should pay the tribute due
To friendship, gratitude, and you!
'Twas your's, with polish'd art to twine
A lovely wreath for Flora's shrine;
To fairest flowers fresh beauties give,
Which in your glowing strains shall live,
And bid each opening bud impart,
Some lesson to the female heart.
And now, with nobler visions fir'd,
At her pure altars, lo! you bend;
To her poetic vows ascend;
For her you tune the warbling string;
And emulate the classic fame
Of Rogers' and of Campbell's name.