TO
DELLA
CRUSCA
.
THE
PEN
.
O
!
SEIZE
again
thy
golden
quill
,
And
with
its
point
my
bosom
thrill
;
With
magic
touch
explore
my
heart
,
And
bid
the
tear
of
passion
start
.
Thy
golden
quill
APOLLO
gave
—
Drench'd
first
in
bright
Aonia's
wave
:
He
snatch'd
it
flutt'ring
thro'
the
sky
,
Borne
on
the
vapour
of
a
sigh
:
It
fell
from
Cupid's
burnish'd
wing
As
forcefully
he
drew
the
string
Which
sent
his
keenest
,
surest
dart
Thro'
a
rebellious
frozen
heart
;
That
had
till
then
defy'd
his
pow'r
,
And
vacant
beat
thro'
each
dull
hour
.
Be
worthy
then
the
sacred
loan
!
Seated
on
Fancy's
air-built
throne
,
Immerse
it
in
her
rainbow
hues
,
Nor
,
what
the
Godheads
bid
,
refuse
!
APOLLO
,
CUPID
,
shall
inspire
,
And
aid
thee
with
their
blended
fire
,
The
one
poetic
language
give
,
The
other
bid
thy
passion
live
;
With
soft
ideas
fill
thy
lays
,
And
crown
with
LOVE
thy
wint'ry
days
!
ANNA
MATILDA
.