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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=455467" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Letter Sent To Mrs. Barber</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou glorious Ruler of the beauteous Day!<br>Have sev'nteen Years so swiftly roll'd away?<br>Hast thou so oft the heav'nly Circle run,<br>When scarce I thought thy radiant Course begun?<br>Never shall I my fleeting Time renew?<br>Must it all perish in one transient View?<br>I wish--Alas! my Wishes are in vain:<br>Those flying Years they never can regain:<br>With rapid Haste Old Time the Moments drives;<br>And scarce a Trace of Youth in Age survives:<br>So, when the weary'd Mortal sinks to Rest,<br>And ev'ry Tumult ceases in his Breast;<br>Imagin'd Scenes, and wish'd--for Views arise;<br>Anew Creation feeds his wond'ring Eyeo;<br>Till Phoebus, rising o'er the spangled Plain,<br>Recalls him from the bright, delusive Scene;<br>With Grief he then perceives th' enchanting Sight,<br>The fleeting Creature of oblivious Night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When some fine Voice delights the raptur'd Heart,<br>By Nature pleasing, yet improv'd by Art;<br>Tho' trembling each Seraphic Sound decay,<br>And with melodious Cadence melt away;<br>The faithful Echo still revives the Strain,<br>And sweetly charms the list'ning Ear again:<br>But Life, once vanish'd, will return no more;<br>No mimic Thought its Presence can restore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say then, my Soul, how must I now survey<br>So many Years, so quickly snatch'd away?<br>Awake, my Muse! Thou only canst impart<br>Ease to my Griefs, and heal the wounded Heart:<br>What Theme shall now employ my youthful Lays?<br>Say! Next to Heav'n, what Subject claims my Praise?<br>O impious Question! Dare I ask the Theme,<br>When a lov'd Parent does that Duty claim?<br>The Infant Tree, that, with judicious Care,<br>Some Hand defended from the piercing Air,<br>With cooling Streams reliev'd the burning Root,<br>Or lopp'd, with tender Skill, each sickly Shoot,<br>Soon as it learns the Tempest to despise,<br>And with diffusive Branches hide the Skies,<br>Gladly rewards the weary'd Peasant's Pains,<br>And loads the Parent Hand with annual Gains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Haste then, my Muse; Sapphira is the Theme;<br>O strive, tho' vainly, to enhance her Fame:<br>Her Guardian Care did all my Griefs assuage,<br>Those sure Attendants of an Infant Age!<br>By her conducted to the Light of Truth,<br>I sail, unshipwreck'd, thro' the Storm of Youth:<br>The heav'nly Influence of her sage Advice<br>Points from afar the dang'rous Rocks of Vice;<br>Shews, with discerning Eye, the blissful Plains,<br>Where Peace, eternal, with fair Virtue reigns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Thou, whom ev'ry Grace and Worth attends,<br>Thou best of Mothers, and thou best of Friends,<br>Indulgently accept these filial Lays;<br>Accept thy Son's inartificial Praise:<br>May Heav'n restore thee to these Eyes again,<br>And safely waft thee o'er th' Iernian Main:<br>O quickly to my longing Eyes repair,<br>And ever bless me with thy Guardian Cate!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mary+Barber">Mary Barber</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=455467" data-title="A Letter Sent To Mrs. Barber de Mary Barber" data-description="Thou glorious Ruler of the beauteous Day!
Have sev'nteen Years so swiftly roll'd away?
Hast thou so oft the heav'nly Circle run,
When scarce I thought thy radiant Course begun?
Never shall I my fleeting Time renew?
Must it all perish in one transi..."></div>
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