To
Mrs.
Ward
.
Sapphira's
Lines
with
Wit
and
Humour
fraught
,
Pure
as
her
Morals
,
sprightly
as
her
Thought
;
Fill'd
with
Compassion
for
the
poor
distress'd
,
And
flowing
from
a
grateful
gen'rous
Breast
,
My
Muse
wou'd
sing
.
—
But
Swift
approves
her
Lays
,
Apollo's
Swift
anticipates
my
Praise
.
Will
Delia
pardon
,
if
I
dare
rehearse
Her
Strephon's
Praise
in
my
unpolish'd
Verse
?
Where
Souls
replete
with
Learning
,
Sense
,
and
Truth
;
Himself
alone
unknowing
of
his
Worth
:
Graceful
amidst
Sapphira's
Works
he
stands
Pre-eminent
,
and
ev'ry
Eye
commands
;
Who
sings
with
Genius
,
Elegance
,
and
Art
,
To
warm
the
Passions
,
and
enlarge
the
Heart
.
Sublime
in
Sentiment
,
in
Diction
pure
,
His
shall
the
Critic's
keenest
Pen
endure
;
And
stand
the
Rage
of
conqu'ring
Time
secure
.
A
Fop
let
others
chuse
,
or
Wretch
they
hate
;
To
ev'ry
Joy
prefer
a
large
Estate
;
With
Toys
and
Equipage
,
while
Truth
and
Mind
Is
Delia's
Taste
,
and
shews
her
Soul
refin'd
.
The
Wise
must
Delia
and
her
Choice
approve
,
Who
wou'd
great
Merit
recompense
with
Love
;
Good
Sense
must
Honour
,
Friendship
,
Faith
secure
,
While
the
rich
Fool
grows
fickle
,
false
,
impure
.
With
such
a
Friend
what
Woman
wou'd
not
dare
To
stake
some
Fortune
,
and
the
rest
to
share
?
To
hear
Truth
flow
melodious
from
his
Tongue
,
And
have
her
Name
immortaliz'd
in
Song
.
Such
Force
of
Merit
must
successful
prove
,
Bays
crown
his
Head
,
while
Beauty
crowns
his
Love
.