To
MATILDA
.
I
Pure
and
divine
,
without
a
fault
,
What
angels
are
described
to
be
,
And
every
bright
excelling
grace
,
Matilda
,
I
behold
in
thee
.
II
Each
sweet
perfection
void
of
art
,
In
all
thy
actions
may
be
seen
,
Possess'd
of
more
than
common
worth
,
A
godlike
mind
and
beauteous
mein
.
III
Where
grace
,
and
elegance
unite
,
Where
virtue
and
fair
truth
do
shine
,
Where
reigns
each
soft
bewitching
charm
,
Bestow'd
by
providence
divine
.
IV
Thy
temper
mild
,
thy
friendship
sure
,
Thy
judgment
sound
,
thy
with
refin'd
,
Thy
breast
with
every
beauty
fraught
,
With
charity
,
and
meekness
join'd
.
V
Inspir'd
by
influence
supreme
,
Humanity
each
purpose
guides
,
And
infinite
benevolence
,
With
wisdom
o'er
thy
soul
presides
.
VI
No
giddy
prattle
e'er
betray'd
,
A
want
of
prudence
,
or
of
sense
,
But
ev'ry
accent
from
thy
tongue
,
Is
blended
with
pure
eloquence
.
VII
Thy
charms
have
fill'd
each
swain
with
love
,
Thy
virtue
ev'ry
bosom
fir'd
;
Thou
art
the
goddess
of
the
plains
,
By
all
confess'd
,
by
all
admir'd
.
VIII
Long
have
I
own'd
a
faithful
flame
,
A
captive
to
your
charms
confess'd
,
Yet
never
mov'd
one
tender
sigh
,
One
spark
of
pity
in
thy
breast
.
To
each
that
tells
his
love-sick
tale
,
Matilda
,
thou
art
gay
and
free
.
To
ev'ry
youth
polite
and
just
But
ah
,
alas
!
unkind
to
me
.