To Lady W.
Playing on the Harp, Accompanied by Her Voice
Written Extempore, at the Age of Fifteen.
Cease, cease, in pity cease your lay;
Would you melt the soul away?
And, while such rapture you impart,
Thrill the ear, but steal the heart?
Must every Godhead bring some grace,
To aid th’ enchantment of your face?
Must Venus give the beauty warm?
Must Pallas mould the radiant form?
Must Jove his lightnings yield, and sigh
To see them melting in your eye?10
But not, alas! with these content,
To make us all your vot’ries bent,
Oh, must Apollo too inspire,
To burn our bosoms, all his fire?