Sweet drop of pure and pearly light! Benign restorer of the soul! Who ever fly'st to bring relief, When first we feel the rude controul Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief. The sage's and the poet's theme, That very law which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course. The law of gravitation. 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! YES, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain; * After a Tragedy, performed for her benefit, at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, April 27, 1795. M M Blanching each honest check with deeds of night, -To drop all metaphor, that little bell Ah, no! she scorns the trappings of her Art; Is here no other actress, let me ask. Believe me, those, who best the heart dissect, First, how her little breast with triumph swells, When the red coral rings its golden bells! To play in pantomime is then the rage, |