James Thomson

Anonymous, "To Mr. Thomson, on hearing Lady **** commend his Seasons" Gentleman's Magazine 6 (December 1736) 741.

Secure of glory, crown thy head with bays,
Ambition sets its bounds in DELIA'S praise;
What she approves eternity shall claim,
And give the favour'd muse unrivall'd fame;
She well can judge, who knows with tuneful art,
In tender strains to move the coldest heart.

When thro' the flow'ry vale, or dusky groves,
Her muse retir'd with guileless freedom roves,
With new delight we seek the calm abodes,
Detest the town, and wander thro' the woods;
Conscious of joy the sylvan scene appears,
And charms like thy own summer evening wears.
No longer the sad nightingales complain,
But learn from hers a more exalted strain:
Her tuneful voice does every care beguile,
And makes the solitary prospect smile.

But when she sets the lyre to themes divine,
An angel speaks in every flowing line;
She takes from vice its undeserv'd applause,
And dares assert abandon'd virtue's cause;
Express'd in heav'nly eloquence we find
The perfect image of her beauteous mind;
Her beauteous mind, that with distinguish'd grace
Shines in her eyes, and sparkles in her face,
Gives every blandishment, and charming air,
Makes all harmonious, and completely fair.