To

LADY C---- L----,

Who, at the Private Races given by Lord D----, set a noble example of humanity and feeling; when a poor man being much hurt, she had him conveyed to her carriage, and interested herself most anxiously in his recovery.

Written at Fifteen.

Daughter of Feeling, Queen of Love, ’Tis to thee these lines are due, With all the beauty of the dove, Hast thou then her nature too!

Though formed in Woman’s purest mould; Though form’d ’mid crowds and courts to shine; Though in thy pow’r to stand enroll’d, The boast of M----’s favour’d line:

Yet has that hand which kings might prize, Deign’d to relieve the poor man’s wo, Yet have those all-subduing eyes, With Pity’s dew-drop deign’d to flow.

Thy guardian angel hov’ring near, Soar’d upwards with that deed of thine, And as he dropt the applauding tear, Wrote down the name of C----.

TO LADY W----,

PLAYING ON THE HARP, ACCOMPANIED BY HER VOICE.

Written Extempore, at the Age of Fifteen.

Cease, cease, in pity cease your lay; Would you melt the soul away? And, while such rapture you impart, Thrill the ear, but steal the heart?

Must every Godhead bring some grace, To aid th’ enchantment of your face? Must Venus give the beauty warm? Must Pallas mould the radiant form? Must Jove his lightnings yield, and sigh To see them melting in your eye? But not, alas! with these content, To make us all your vot’ries bent, Oh, must Apollo too inspire, To burn our bosoms, all his fire?