And shall the Muse, that marks the solemn scene, "As busy fancy lifts the veil between,” Refuse to mingle in the awful train, Nor breathe with glowing zeal the votive strain? The boldest numbers of her raptur'd lyre * Julia.-The name by which Mr. Andrè addressed the Author in his correspondence with her. Belov'd companion of the fairest hours That rose for her in joy's resplendent bow'rs, How gaily shone on thy bright morn of youth The Star of Pleasure, and the Sun of Truth! Full from their source descended on thy mind Each gen'rous virtue, and each taste refin'd. Young Genius led thee to his varied fane, Bade thee ask tall his gifts, nor ask in vain ; Hence novel thoughts, in ev'ry lustre drest Of pointed wit, that diamond of the breast; Hence glow'd thy fancy with poetic ray, Hence music warbled in thy sprightly lay; And hence thy pencil, with his colours warm, Caught ev'ry grace, and copied ev'ry charm, All his gifts. Mr. Andrè had conspicuous talents for Poetry, Music, and Painting. The news-papers mentioned a satiric poem of his upon the Americans, which was supposed to have stimulated their barbarity towards him. Of his wit and vivacity, the letters subjoined to this work afford ample proof.-They were addressed to the Author by Mr. Andrè when he was a youth of eighteen. Whose transient glories beam on beauty's cheek, But sure the youth, whose ill-starr'd passion With all the pangs of inauspicious love, [strove Early grave.-Miss Honora S- to whom Mr. Andrè's attachment was of such singular constancy, died in a consumption a few months before he suffered death at Tappan. She had married another gentleman four years after her engagement with Mr. Andrè had been dissolved by parental authority. † Julia's arm.-] -Mr. Andrè drew two miniature pictures of Miss Honora S on his first acquaintance with her at Buxton, in the year 1769, one for himself, the other for the author of this poem. Full oft deplor'd the fatal art that stole The jocund freedom of its master's soul. While with nice hand he mark'd the living grace, And matchless sweetness of Honora's face, *'Twas thus Apelles bask'd in beauty's blaze, And felt the mischief of the stedfast gaze; Trac'd with disordered hand Campaspe's charms, And as their beams the kindling canvas warms, *'Twas thus Apelles.-Prior is very elegant upon this circumstance in an Ode to his friend, Mr. Howard, the Painter. Triumphant love, with still superior art, Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart. Dear lost companion! ever constant youth! That Fate had smil'd propitious on thy truth! Nor bound th' ensanguin'd laurel on that brow Where Love ordain'd his brightest wreath to glow! Then Peace had led thee to her softest bow'rs, Sorrowing the Muse still sheds her sacred tear! |