The
LYRIC
MUSE
to
Mr.
MASON
.
On
the
Recovery
of
the
Right
Honourable
the
Earl
of
HOLDERNESSE
from
a
dangerous
Illness
.
By
the
Same
.
MASON
,
snatch
the
votive
Lyre
,
D'Arcy
lives
,
and
I
inspire
.
'Tis
the
Muse
that
deigns
to
ask
,
Can
thy
hand
forget
its
task
?
Or
can
the
Lyre
its
strains
refuse
To
the
Patron
of
the
Muse
?
Hark
,
what
notes
of
artless
love
The
feather'd
poets
of
the
grove
,
Grateful
for
the
bowers
they
fill
,
Warble
wild
on
Sion
hill
;
In
tuneful
tribute
duely
paid
To
the
Master
of
the
shade
!
And
shall
the
Bard
sit
fancy-proof
Beneath
the
hospitable
roof
,
Where
every
menial
face
affords
Raptur'd
thoughts
that
want
but
words
?
And
the
Patron's
dearer
part
,
The
gentle
sharer
of
his
heart
,
Wears
her
wonted
charms
again
.
Time
,
that
felt
Affliction's
chain
,
Learns
on
lighter
wings
to
move
;
And
the
tender
pledge
of
love
,
Sweet
Amelia
,
now
is
prest
With
double
transport
to
her
breast
.
Sweet
Amelia
,
thoughtless
why
,
Imitates
the
general
joy
;
Innocent
of
care
or
guile
See
the
lovely
Mimic
smile
,
And
,
as
the
heart-felt
raptures
rise
,
Catch
them
from
her
Mother's
eyes
.
Does
the
noisy
town
deny
Soothing
airs
,
and
extacy
?
Sion's
shades
afford
retreat
,
Thither
bend
thy
pilgrim
feet
.
There
bid
th'
imaginary
train
,
Coinage
of
the
Poet's
brain
,
Not
only
in
effects
appear
,
But
forms
,
and
limbs
,
and
features
wear
.
Let
festive
Mirth
,
with
flow'rets
crown'd
,
Lightly
tread
the
measur'd
round
;
And
Peace
,
that
seldom
knows
to
share
The
Statesman's
friendly
bowl
,
be
there
;
While
rosy
Health
,
superior
guest
,
Loose
to
the
Zephyrs
bares
her
breast
;
And
,
to
add
a
sweeter
grace
,
Give
her
soft
Amelia's
face
.
Mason
,
why
this
dull
delay
?
Haste
,
to
Sion
haste
away
.
There
the
Muse
again
shall
ask
,
Nor
thy
hand
forget
its
task
;
Nor
the
Lyre
its
strains
refuse
To
the
Patron
of
the
Muse
.