English poem
To MRS. P
by Sophia Lee (1750–1824)
Oh, thou! who bad'st me fearless try the oar, And launch uncertain on life's flatt'ring sea, Urging with trembling hand my bark from shore, While wond'ring at thy own temerity.
Nameless, as are thy merits, still remain— Yet let thy heart appropriate all its dues, And, oh! whate'er th' event, do thou retain The tender titles of my Friend and Muse!
Should Fortune's fav'rites, circling, close her throne, And Fame's loud trump be mute to me alone, The pity of the world I can return, And still at unsuccessful Fiction spurn, While Heav'n's supreme indulgence gives to me Its charms combin'd, and realiz'd in thee.