While sorrow sighs, ah! never let them cool,
But melt melodious on the soften’d soul:
So may the passions wait upon your hand,
Move as you move, and act as you command:
I’ve laid down precepts, to guide your vocal strains,
Resume your lays, for hark, the Muse complains.
EPIGRAM.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, BY THE LATE DR. COOPER.
To Love should Beauty not submit,
In vain its power it tries,