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Then let my fond enquiries cease,
And so let all my troubles end:
For, sure, that heart shall ne'er know peace,
Which on another's doth depend.
From a Poem in praise of the invention of Letter Writing.
Oh! might I live to see an art arise,
As this to Thoughts, indulgent to the Eyes;
That the dark powers of distance could subdue,
And make me see as well as talk to you;
That tedious miles nor tracts of air might prove
Bars to my sight, and shadows to my love!
Yet were it granted, such unbounded things
Are wand'ring wishes born on fancy's wings,
They'd stretch themselves beyond this happiness,
And ask an art, to help us to embrace. 10
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