So large a share--oh! then be thine
The mental charms that in her shine!

And may thy father's taste refin'd
Still add new graces to thy mind;
And may'st thou to each charm impart
The gen'rous frankness of his heart.

Then, my sweet Emma! thou shall move
In many a heart more genuine love
Than ever warm'd poetic line,
Or sigh'd in any Valentine.




LINES

WRITTEN UPON SEEING A BLIND YOUNG WOMAN IN NORTH WALES,

Who supports herself, and an aged and infirm Mother, by selling
Stockings and Gloves of her own Knitting, which she offers to
Travellers as they pass by; in doing which she has been known
to run close by the Side of a Carriage for several Miles.

POOR BLIND BET.


The morning purple on the hill,
The village spire, the ivy'd tow'r,