LINES TO AN ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY,

Whose Timidity frequently agitated her, when pressed to gratify her

Friends by her Musical Talents.

‘ Tis said ( and I believe it too )

That genuine merit seeks the shade;

Blushing to think what is her due,

As of her own sweet pow'rs afraid:—

Thus, lovely maid! on fluttering wings,

Thy pow'rs a thousand fears pursue,

Which, like thy own harmonious strings,

When press'd enchant, and tremble too!

The pity, which we give, you owe,

For mutual fears on both attend;

While anxious thus you joy bestow,

We fear too soon that joy will end!