TO MISS KENNEDY.
[Miss Kennedy was one of that numerous band of ladies who patronized the poet in Edinburgh; she was related to the Hamiltons of Mossgiel.]
Madam,
Permit me to present you with the enclosed song as a small though grateful tribute for the honour of your acquaintance. I have, in these verses, attempted some faint sketches of your portrait in the unembellished simple manner of descriptive truth.—Flattery, I leave to your lovers, whose exaggerating fancies may make them imagine you still nearer perfection than you really are.
Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly the powers of beauty; as, if they are really poets of nature’s making, their feelings must be finer, and their taste more delicate than most of the world. In the cheerful bloom of spring, or the pensive mildness of autumn; the grandeur of summer, or the hoary majesty of winter, the poet feels a charm unknown to the rest of his species. Even the sight of a fine flower, or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part of God’s works below), have sensations for the poetic heart that the herd of man are strangers to.—On this last account, Madam, I am, as in many other things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton’s kindness in introducing me to you. Your lovers may view you with a wish, I look on you with pleasure; their hearts, in your presence, may glow with desire, mine rises with admiration.
That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, as incident to humanity, glance a slight wound, may never reach your heart—that the snares of villany may never beset you in the road of life—that innocence may hand you by the path of honour to the dwelling of peace, is the sincere wish of him who has the honour to be, &c.
R. B.