To Miss Ponsonby

Seek, roseate net, inchanting ZARA’S hand, And, tho’ unworthy, say thy fold aspires To guard the gentle scriptures, where expand Deserved attachment’s tributary fires!

Say, that in no charm’d spirit livelier dwells, Than hers who wove thee, each ingenuous trace Of the fair story this retirement tells, The minds that sought it, and the forms that grace;

Davidean friendship, emulation warm, Coy blossoms, perishing in courtly air, Its vain parade, restraint, and irksome form, Cold as the ice, tho’ with the comet’s glare.

By firmness won, by constancy secured, Ye nobler pleasures, be ye long their meed, Theirs, who, each meteor vanity abjured, The life of Angels in an Eden lead.