Samuel Jackson Pratt

B. Walwyn, "To the Author of Sympathy" Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser (6 August 1781).

Blest Genius of pathetic strains,
Whose verse can charm us, while it pains;
Whose silver numbers gently glide,
As swans adorn the flowing tide;
And as you pass fair Nature's shores,
Their varied charms thy Muse explores;
The grave, the gay, the low, the grand,
With magic power you command.
The sighs of bliss, the tears of woe,
As waves your wand, they heave or flow.
The wounds you give, we charm'd, sustain,
And bless the hand that points the pain:
And rather than one tear suspend,
We pray the torrent to descend.

Goldsmith the rural scene pourtray'd;
With him we mourn the desert glade;
But thou the PASSIONS all attend,
With thee we mourn the absent friend.
And while the HEART transcends the plain,
A brighter wreathe shalt thou sustain.
Goldsmith, thy Village claims our praise,
But SYMPATHY shall wear the bays.

Let pedants vainly syllogize,
Such modes of teaching we despise.
Let them, like thee, sweet bard impart
That best of sense, which warms the HEART.