ODE TO DELLA CRUSCA. Hannah Cowley (née Parkhouse) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T90094 K073164.000 Cowley, Mrs. (Hannah), 1743-1809. The Poetry of Anna Matilda. London printed by John Bell, British Library, Strand, Bookseller to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. M DCC LXXXVIII. 1788 pp. []-61. [8],139,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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ODE TO DELLA CRUSCA . O THOU ! Who from " a wilderness of Suns " Canst stoop to where the low brook runs ! Thro' space with rapid comets glow ; — Or mark where , soft , the snow-drops grow ! O THOU ! Whose burning Pen now rapture paints ! Then moralizes , cold , with Saints ! Now trembling ardors can infuse — Then , seems as dipp'd in cloister'd dews — O say ! thy BEING quick declare , Art thou a Son of Earth , or Air ? Celestial Bard ! though thy sweet song Might to a Seraph's strains belong , Its wondrous beauty , and its art Can only touch , not change , my heart . So Heaven-sent light'ning powerless plays , And wanton , throws its purple rays ; It leaps through Night's scarce pervious gloom , Attracted by the Rose's bloom ; Th' illumin'd shrub then quiv'ring round , It seems each scented bud to wound ; Morn shakes her locks , and see the Rose In renovated beauty blows ! Smiles at the dart which past away , And flings her perfume on the day . Thy light'ning Pen 'tis thus I greet , Fearless its subtile point I meet ; Ne'er shall its spells my sad heart move , From the calm state it vows to love . All other bliss I've proved is vain — All other bliss is dash'd with pain . My waist with myrtles has been bound , MY BROW WITH LAURELS HAS BEEN CROWN'D ; LOVE , has sigh'd hopeless at my feet , LOVE , on my couch , has pour'd each sweet ; All these I've known , and now I fly With thee , INDIFFERENCE , to die ! Nor is thy gift " dull torpid ease , " The Mind's quick powers that dost not freeze : No ! blest by Thee , the soul expands , And darts o'er fresh-created lands ; Springs from the confines of the earth To where new systems struggle into birth ; The germ of future Worlds beholds , The secrets of dark space unfolds ; Can watch how far the Erratic runs , And gaze on DELLA CRUSCA's Suns ; In some new Orb can meet , " his starry mail , " And him , on earth unknown , in Heaven with transport hail ! ANNA MATILDA .