Hard is the task my friend to me has giv’n,

For Poesy’s a gift, a gift of Heav’n,

Too bold I am, thus rashly to Aspire

To borrow from her hands the Warbling lyre,

Conscious my trembling fingers as they rove

Will feebly strike the tuneful chords I love.

 

But Friendship promis’d if I would comply,

Her dazzling shield should dim the critic’s eye;

Proud of her promise then, I thus resign

To her indulgent orb each feeble line,

My heart, the Monitor to whom I bend

Bids me pourtray the Features of a Friend,

But the chaste Model fancy has in View

Eludes my toil—th’Original is You.

Ah then, from You, let me this pledge beguile,

Make the faint image grow beneath a Smile,

The bright reflection shall a charm diffuse,

To animate the Whole with borrow’d hues.