To Mrs. Montagu.
By Helen Maria Williams
While, bending at thy honour'd shrine, the Muse
Pours, MONTAGU, to thee her votive strain,
Thy heart will not her simple notes refuse,
Or chill her timid soul with cold disdain.
O might a transient spark of genius fire
The fond effusions of her fearful youth;
Then should thy virtues live upon her lyre,
And give to harmony the charm of truth.
Vain wish! they ask not the imperfect lay,
The weak applause her trembling accents breathe;
With whose pure radiance glory blends her ray,
Whom fame has circled with her fairest wreathe.
Thou, who while seen with graceful step to tread
Grandeur's enchanted round, can'st meekly pause
To rend the veil obscurity had spread
Where his lone sigh deserted Genius draws;
To lead his drooping spirit to thy fane,
Where attic joy the social circle warms;
Where science loves to pour her hallow'd strain,
Where wit, and wisdom, blend their sep'rate charms.
And lure to cherish intellectual powers,
To bid the vig'rous tides of genius roll,
Unfold, in fair expansion, fancy's flowers,
And wake the latent energies of soul;
Far other homage claims than flatt'ry brings
The little triumphs of the proud to grace:
For deeds like these a purer incense springs,
Warm from the swelling heart its source we trace!
Yet not to foster the rich gifts of mind
Alone can all thy lib'ral cares employ;
Not to the few those gifts adorn, confin'd,
They spread an ampler sphere of genuine joy.
While pleasure's lucid star illumes thy bower,
Thy pity views the distant storm that bends
Where want unshelter'd wastes the ling'ring hour; -
And meets the blessing that to heav'n ascends!
For this, while fame thro' each successive age
On her exulting lip thy name shall breathe;
While woman, pointing to thy finish'd page,
Claims from imperious man the critic wreathe;
Truth on her spotless record shall enroll
Each moral beauty to her spirit dear;
Paint in bright characters each grace of soul -
While admiration pours a gen'rous tear.