As coarsely to revile thy tender mind,
Basely applying, with malignant glee,
The hateful title Misanthrope, to thee!
Let just oblivion wrap in endless night
Such baleful fruits of worth-defaming spight:
Truth ne'er could Cowper's want of zeal reprove,
As fervent as a saint in friendly love.
Hannah! to whose effulgent mind belong
Continual plaudits from the sons of song,
Be witness how, in his sequester'd bowers,
Cowper acknowledging thy various powers,
Ever on thee, thy verse, thy prose, bestow'd
Applause, where cloudless admiration glow'd
With warmth, that jealousy could ne'er perplex;
He praised thee, as the glory of thy sex,
In verbal power, in intellectual grace,
Never inferior to man's lordly race!
Congenial spirits, warm'd with kindly zeal,
Each others merits ye were sure to feel
For one, true virtue's favorite employ,
Her happiest exercise! her highest joy.
One glorious motive sway'd each active mind
Whether the bard, to rhymes no more confin'd,
Rapidly sketch'd with glance intensely keen,
His bird's-eye prospect of our human scene,
Or the fair moralist, in polish'd prose,
Describ'd the living manners as they rose.
One glorious motive clear in each we prize.
Bright as the vestal flame, which never dies.
The philanthropic wish, from heaven inspir'd,