ON thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers As on she moves with hesitating grace, Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame! At each response the sacred rite requires, O'er her fair face what wild emotions play! And settled sunshine on her soul descend! Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought! TO THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF LADY Ан! why with tell-tale tongue reveal* For this presumption, soon or late, * Alluding to some verses which she had written on an elder sister. |