TO
MYRTILIS
.
THE
NEW
YEAR'S
OFFERING
.
MADAM
,
LONG
have
I
look'd
my
tablets
o'er
,
And
find
I've
much
to
thank
you
for
,
Out-standing
debts
beyond
account
;
And
new
—
who
knows
to
what
amount
?
Tho'
small
my
wealth
,
not
small
my
soul
,
Come
then
,
at
once
I'll
pay
the
whole
.
Ye
Powers
!
I'm
rich
,
and
will
command
The
host
of
slaves
that
round
me
stand
;
Come
,
Indian
,
quick
disclose
thy
store
,
And
hither
bring
Peruvian
ore
;
Let
yonder
negroe
pierce
the
main
,
The
choicest
,
largest
pearl
to
gain
;
Let
all
my
slaves
their
arts
combine
To
make
the
blushing
ruby
mine
,
From
eastern
thrones
the
diamonds
bear
To
sparkle
at
her
breast
and
ear
.
Swift
,
Scythian
,
point
th'
unerring
dart
That
strikes
the
Ermine's
little
heart
,
And
search
for
choicest
furs
the
globe
,
To
make
my
MYRTILIS
a
robe
.
Ah
,
no
:
Yon
Indian
will
not
go
,
No
Scythian
deigns
to
bend
his
bow
.
No
sullen
Negroe
shoots
the
flood
,
How
,
slaves
!
—
Or
am
I
understood
!
All
,
all
,
my
empty
power
disown
,
I
turn
,
and
find
myself
alone
;
'Tis
Fancy's
vain
illusion
all
,
Nor
Moor
nor
Scythian
waits
my
call
.
Call
I
command
,
can
I
consign
?
Alas
,
what
earthly
thing
is
mine
!
Come
then
,
my
Muse
,
companion
dear
Of
poverty
,
and
soul
sincere
,
Come
dictate
to
my
grateful
mind
A
gift
that
may
acceptance
find
;
Come
,
gentle
Muse
,
and
with
thee
bear
An
offering
worthy
thee
and
her
;
And
tho'
thy
presents
be
but
poor
,
My
MYRTILIS
will
ask
no
more
.
An
heart
that
scorns
a
shameful
thing
,
With
love
and
verse
,
is
all
I
bring
;
Of
love
and
verse
the
gift
receive
,
'Tis
all
thy
servant
has
to
give
.
If
all
whate'er
my
verse
has
told
,
Golconda's
gems
,
and
Afric's
gold
,
If
all
were
mine
from
pole
to
pole
,
How
large
her
share
who
shares
my
soul
?
But
more
than
these
may
Heaven
impart
;
Be
thine
the
treasures
of
the
heart
;
Be
calm
,
and
glad
thy
future
days
With
Virtue's
peace
,
and
Virtue's
praise
.
Let
jealous
Pride
,
and
sleepless
Care
,
And
wasting
Grief
,
and
black
Despair
,
And
languor
chill
,
and
Anguish
fell
,
For
ever
shun
thy
grove
and
cell
;
There
only
may
the
happy
train
Of
Love
,
and
Joy
,
and
Peace
,
remain
:
May
Plenty
,
with
exhaustless
store
,
Employ
thy
hand
to
feed
the
poor
,
And
ever
on
thy
honour'd
head
The
prayer
of
Gratitude
be
shed
.
A
happy
mother
,
may'st
thou
see
Thy
smiling
virtuous
progeny
,
Whose
sportful
tricks
,
and
airy
play
,
Fraternal
love
,
and
prattle
gay
,
Or
wonderous
tale
,
or
joyful
song
,
May
lure
the
lingering
hours
along
;
Till
Death
arrive
,
unselt
,
unseen
,
With
gentle
pace
,
and
placid
mien
,
And
waft
thee
to
that
happy
shore
Where
wishes
can
have
place
no
more
.