SONNET To the AUTHOR of CLARISSA

O Master of the heart! whose magic skill The close recesses of the Soul can find, Can rouse, becalm, and terrify the mind, Now melt with pity, now with anguish thrill;

Thy moral page while virtuous precepts fill, Warm from the heart, to mend the Age design'd, Wit, strength, truth, decency, are all combin'd To lead our Youth to Good, and guard from Ill.

O long enjoy what thou so well hast won, The grateful tribute of each honest heart, Sincere, nor hackney'd in the ways of men; At each distressful stroke their true tears run; And Nature, unsophisticate by Art, Owns and applauds the labors of thy pen.