Volume 3 — SONNET LXI. TO MR HENRY CARY,[91] ON READING HIS SONNETS WRITTEN AT SIXTEEN.

Disciple of the bright Aonian Maid In thy life’s blossom, a resistless spell Amid the wild, wood, and irriguous dell, O’er thymy hill, and thro’ illumined glade, Led thee, for her thy votive wreaths to braid, Where flaunts the musk-rose, and the azure bell Nods o’er loquacious brook, or silent well.— Thus woo’d her inspirations, their rapt aid Liberal she gave; nor only thro’ thy strain Breath’d their pure spirit, while her charms beguiled The languid hours of sorrow, and of pain, But when youth’s tide ran high, and tempting smiled Circean pleasure, rescuing did she stand, Broke the enchantress’ cup, and snapt her wand.