And his strains had such pow’r o’er the ear,
That, whenever he pleas’d, from the concourse that stray’d,
He could call forth a smile or a tear.
Old Time knew his worth, with the sigh of esteem,
From the earth bid sweet Willy arise;
With his genius he fled, but has left us his theme,
Which shall ever be dear to the wise.
TO ELIZA.
I ask’d a kiss, and scarce those lips comply’d,