68
POEMS.
But gentle Sylphids, to her ear
More tender should my strains appear,
Than Friend should use, or Friend should hear,
While thus my lyre I strike,
Tell her, when poured in Beauty's praise
Nature so soft makes Friendship's lays,
Though 'tis not Love each line pourtrays,
'Tis something very like.
More tender should my strains appear,
Than Friend should use, or Friend should hear,
While thus my lyre I strike,
Tell her, when poured in Beauty's praise
Nature so soft makes Friendship's lays,
Though 'tis not Love each line pourtrays,
'Tis something very like.
When manly worth claims Friendship's song,
His brazen Harp, firm, clear, and strong,
He strikes, and roves those chords among
Which sense and honour suit:
But when he sings for woman's sake,
More melting tones He joys to make,
And strives with gentlest touch to wake
Affection's silver Lute.
His brazen Harp, firm, clear, and strong,
He strikes, and roves those chords among
Which sense and honour suit:
But when he sings for woman's sake,
More melting tones He joys to make,
And strives with gentlest touch to wake
Affection's silver Lute.
Georgina, I'll not call thee fair,
Nor praise thy radiant eyes, nor swear,
That Beauty's crown with splendour rare
Shines glorious round thy brows;
For why should I misuse my time,
[On stilts poetic raised sublime]
To tell the world in maudlin rhyme,
What all the world allows.
Nor praise thy radiant eyes, nor swear,
That Beauty's crown with splendour rare
Shines glorious round thy brows;
For why should I misuse my time,
[On stilts poetic raised sublime]
To tell the world in maudlin rhyme,
What all the world allows.
