Sonnet I Favourd by Heavn

Favour'd by Heav'n are those, ordain'd to

The bliss supreme that kindles fancy's fire;

Whose magic fingers sweep the muses' lyre,

In varying cadence, eloquently chaste!

Well may the mind, with tuneful numbers grac'd,

To Fame's immortal attributes aspire,

Above the treach'rous spells of low desire,

That wound the sense, by vulgar joys debas'd.

For thou, blest

SY! with godlike

To calm the miseries of man wert giv'n;

When passion rends, and hopeless love devours,

By mem'ry goaded, and by frenzy driv'n,'Tis thine to guide him 'midst Elysian bow'rs,

And shew his fainting soul,—a glimpse of Heav'n.