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Yielding to Harmony, her ear
Entranc'd, and only live to hear;

When the melodious periods close,
And warm and deep th' impression glows;
With fervid hand, and voice, and lay,
She owns CECILIA's boundless sway:
And list'ning Silence joins the train,
The throne of Music to sustain.

Take then, Enthusiast! your due;
Resistless Praise belongs to You:
Transcendent Talents will excuse
The Repetitions of the Muse.

April 4, 1804.

ΤΟ

MISS SHARP,

ON THE SAME OCCASION.

THOUGH BILLINGTON, in Music's pride,
Sat like APOLLO's radiant Bride,
-APOLLO-God of Harmony,
Of Light, and Sacred Poesy —
Like him, unrivall'd in his rays,
Though She her sov'reignty displays,
And lesser Planets, in their spliere,
Shorn of their wonted beams appear:

Yet,

Yet, 'mid the blaze, thy milder shine,

Sweet Maid! proclaims thy gift divine.
Still in thy orbit art thou seen
"A gem of purest ray serene,"
Like some New Stranger of the Skies,
That doth in modest lustre rise;

A beauteous Star, just travell'd into sight,
Which in its lucid course shall gain upon the light.

TO A FRIEND,

ON RECEIVING A PAIR OF SPECTACLES.

By various stress of time and weather,
For half a century together,

Some joy-drops and deep show'rs of weeping,
Spite of the balmy dew of sleeping,
My Eyes were all the worse for wear,
And were in search of some repair:

When you, my Friend, in lucky hour,
Bestow'd the sight-relieving power;
A boon as useful as 'tis kind-

Yet had no Eye but of the mind

Had I been deaf, and blind, and dumb,

For half a century to come,

That Eye, in vision bright and clear,

Would view your worth. and hold it dear.

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But now, assisted by your gift,

Which gives the Optic Nerves a lift-
I see to tell you, till they sever,
Or close in death-I'm yours for ever!

ADDRESS

TO A SPACIOUS HOLLY TREE BELONGING TO MRS. INGRAM, AT WOOLFORD HOUSE, WARWICKSHIRE.

HAIL! happy, hardy Evergreen,
Who fresh and fair art always seen;
And through each long revolving year
Dost still immutable appear;
Unlike the evanescent flowers,
Which only bloom in sunny bowers,
Or those frail shrubs and stinted trees,
That flourish in the warming breeze,
Then, in precipitate decay,
Pass, like the Lady-bird, away;
No more to sport, till May's best sky
Revives the vernal Butterfly!

Apt Prototype of those who bask

In Fortune's shine, then drop the mask;
And those who Friendship, weak and poor,
Profess, and then are heard no more!
Too feeble for the world's harsh strife,

Too fragile for the storms of life.

But,

But, hail thou hardy Evergreen,

That still unchangeable art seen;

Fair Emblem of a faithful Friend,
Who can both shelter and defend;
By Nature strong and potent made,
To guard the Dome thy branches shade!
And never since that Dome was rear'd,
And thy first pointed leaves appear'd-
Oh! never since thy parent Earth
Nurs'd those unfading leaves to birth,
E'en to the present hour sublime,
That shows thee still in glossy prime,
Tho' many a century be past,
Triumphant o'er each wintry blast ;-
No, never didst thou shade impart
To a more kind or generous heart
Than hers who owns thy soft retreat,
Wisdom and Worth's establish'd seat;.
For she, like thee, her succour lends,
To shelter and protect her Friends;
In antient hospitable pride,
To spread her bounties far and wide;
In storms and calms, like thee serene,
Like thee, A FRIENDLY EVERGreen.

But when at length even THOU shalt fade,
And Time shall branch and root invade,
When not a leaf of thine shall live,
Her Worth shall Time itself survive,
And bloom a fair and goodly Tree,
When not a trace remains of thee.

EXTEMPORE

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EXTEMPORE,

ON HEARING MONSIEUR VON ESCHE'S MARCHE RELIGIEUSE.

DECENT, pious, pensive, slow,
To the House of GOD they go;
Sacred Sisters, bending there,
Pour the suppliant soul in prayer;
Soar sublime, 'bove sordid earth,
And feel themselves of Angel birth;
Till hallow'd tears, and holy sighs,
Lift their spirits to the skies!

Sweet Musician! in thy notes,
Where another spirit floats
On airy wings of solemn sound,
We see those Sisters pacing round;
Seem their plaintive voice to hear,
Feel their sigh, and catch their tear.

SONG.

SUNG BY NINE SISTERS ABOUT TO SEPARATE.

AH Sisters, sweet Sisters, although we must roam,
Far, far from our Parent, our Friends, and our Home,
How soothing to think that no space can divide
The bonds which Affection and Nature have tied ;-
Have tied round your hearts-and tho' scatter'd they lie,
All space they elude, and all parting defy :

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North

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