The Poetry Corner

Sonnet To Music.

By Thomas Gent

Hail! Heavenly Maid, my pensive mind, Invokes thy woe-subduing strain; For there a shield my soul can find, Which subjugates each dagger'd pain. When beauty spurns the lover's sighs, 'Tis thine soft pity to inspire; And cold indifference vanquish'd lies, Beneath thy myrtle-vested lyre. Oh! could contention's demon hear Thy seraph voice, his blood-lav'd spear He'd drop, and own thy power; That smiling o'er each hapless land, Sweet peace might call her hallow'd band, To crown the festive hour.