TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. PREFIXED TO THE CORRESPONDENCE OF THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA. To live beneath the golden star of love, From gifts like these say, what the boasted gain Yet shall we, Colman, at these gifts repine? And with those powers of genius would you part. Ah me! my friend! nor deem the verse divine That weakness wrote in Petrarch's gentle strain; When once he own'd at love's unfavouring shrine, 'A thousand pleasures were not worth one pain.' The dreams of fancy sooth the pensive heart, O charm of every muse-ennobled mind, O right divine, the pride of power to scorn! Than fear, or folly, fancies in a crown! As far each boon that Nature's hand bestows, The worthless glare of fortune's train exceeds, As yon fair orb, whose beam eternal glows, Outshines the transient meteor that it feeds. To Nature, Colman, let thy incense rise, And keen discernment's soul prevading ray. To catch the manners from the various face, Seize, seize the pen; the sacred hour departs ! Nor, led by kindness, longer lend thine ear: The tender tale of two ingenuous hearts Would rob thee of a moment and a tear. ΤΟ RICHARD BURN, LL. D. ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S JUSTICES OF THE PEACE FOR THE COUNTIES OF WESTMORELAND AND CUMBERLAND. DEAR SIR, A POEM written professedly at your request, naturally addresses itself to you. The distinction you have acquired on the subject, and your taste for the arts, give that address every kind of propriety. If I have any particular sstisfaction in this publication, beside what arises from my compliance with your commands, it must be in the idea of that testimony it bears to our friendship. If you believe that I am more concerned for the duration of that than of the Poem itself, you will not be mistaken; for I am, DEAR SIR, Your truly affectionate brother, and faithful humble servant, THE AUTHOR. Somersetshire, THE COUNTRY JUSTICE. INTRODUCTION. IN Richard's days, when lost his pastur'd plain, Lov'st thou that Freedom? By her holy shrine, Were thoughts like these the dream of ancient time? And does not Nature thoughts like these impart, Breathe in the soul, and write upon the heart? |