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OF TEMPER.
103


Return, sweet season, grac'd with fiction's flowers,
Let not cold system cramp thy genial powers!
Shall mild Morality, in garb uncouth,
The housewife garb of plain and homely Truth,
Robb'd by stern Method of her rosy crown,
Chill her faint votaries by a wintry frown?
No; thou sweet friend of man! as suits thee best,
Shine forth in Fable's rich embroider'd vest!
Oh make my verse thy vehicle, thy arms,
To spread o'er social life thy potent charms!
And thou, Sophrosyne, mysterious sprite!
If haply I may trace thy steps aright,
Roving thro' paths untrod by mortal feet,
To paint for human eyes thy heavenly seat,
Shed on my soul some portion of that power,
Which sav'd Serena in the trying hour,
To bear those trials, which, however hard,
As bards all tell us, may befall the bard;
The fop's pert jest, the critic's frown severe,
Learning's proud cant, with Fnvy's artful sneer.