Classic Poem

Where, in this land, ( Alzira cry'd)
 Shall Indian virtues rest?
Who will be, here , the stranger's guide ,
 And lead her to be blest?

Seek, said the whisp'ring muse , some fair,
 Of England 's beauteous race:
Who does, herself, those virtues share,
 Which most Alzira grace.

One, who has taste , as nobly strong,
 And charms , as softly sweet ;
Will guard her sister soul from wrong ,
 While graces, graces meet.

I took the muse's kind advice ,
 Look'd round the fair and bright ,
And found Alzira , in a trice,
 Was matchless T——t 's right.