Thus sung the sisters, who with joy behold You choose the path your fathers trod of old. Go on, brave Youth, but shun the syren bowers By Vice and Folly deck'd with tawdry flowers; The toilsome path with stedfast ardour climb, Where Fame's imperial dome aspires sublime There join the brave, the worthy, and the wise, And the low sons of little men despise. Fair THETIS' son, arm'd in celestial steel, Had still, they say, a vulnerable heel:: Thus you, protected by the Sybil's art, Perhaps have still a vulnerable heart,
Where Beauty's eyes a deadly glance may dart. Yet can those charmed bands your breast secure. From the slight arts that youthful minds allure, The practis'd artifice, the purchas'd smile, The glance ambiguous, and insidious wile. Thrice happy they who gloriously expire, Touch'd by the beam of pure celestial fire. Such be thy fate,-be thou the envied prize Of brightest virtues beam'd thro' brightest eyes! Dash from thee CIRCE'S Cup, and nobly own That truth and constancy deserve alone The blessings of the Sybil's hallow'd zone. Thus sings the mountain Muse to you alone, Nor must her song to vulgar eyes be shewn ;
Nor will she deign to pour her mystic strain In the gross aperture of ears profane.
Observe her caution and conceal her verse,
So shall her future lays your future deeds rehearse : The mountain echoes pleas'd shall hear the sound, Old heroes ghosts shall lean from clouds around, To hail the blooming Chief, with early laurels crown'd!
WITH A SPRIG OF CRIMSON HEATH WHICH GREW
ON THE SUMMIT OF A MOUNTAIN.
"Those looks demure that deeply touch the soul, "Where, with the light of thoughtful Reason join'd, "Shine lively Fancy, and the feeling heart."
MUSE that lov'st the lonely mountain, Cliff abrupt, and rocky glen,
Rushy dell and mossy fountain, Free from strife and far from men :
Muse that lov'st to worship Nature In her haunts sublimely wild, Hail the maid whose every feature
Speaks her Nature's darling child.
Nurs'd on Inspiration's bosom, Drest by meek Simplicity,
She in youth's luxuriant blossom Truth and Nature loves like thee.
Deck'd with chaste and artless graces, While her form adorns the stage, Fancy pleas'd recals the traces Of a former, better age;
When the virgin's sweet suffusion, Timid look, and modest air, Gentle fears, and soft confusion, Shrunk before the public stare.
'Tis not that thy tragic sister Wraps her in her crimson stole, Or that comic powers assist her, While she fascinates the soul.
'Tis not that applausive thunder Shakes the scene when she appears,
That she draws the gaze of wonder, And unlocks the spring of tears
'Tis not that capricious fashion
Hails her idol of the day; But that general adulation
O'er her breast obtains no sway.
That the charities and duties Which domestic life endear,
Add new lustre to her beauties, Even in wisdom's view severe.
Lovely WALLIS, these are grace That awake the Muse's flame; And to these sequester'd places Have convey'd thy honour'd name
Pattern bright of filial duty,
Kindest sister, truest friend,
On thy innocence and beauty Still may guardian sylphs attend!
Keep and wear this crimson blossom, Place it near thy generous heart, 'Tis a charm that from thy bosom Can repel detraction's dart.
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