Classic Poem

With fond regard the scene I view
Which Shakespeare's mighty genius drew,
While female Fancy's rival store
Imparts a charm unfelt before.
O would that great magician deign
To lend awhile his golden pen,
Then would I point each secret spot,
Each coral cave, and pearly grot,
Where the blue tides of ocean spread,
Or Avon wears his ancient bed,
Whence the rich spar, the crystal bright,
The golden-glittering marcasite,
Adorn the curious cell, that stands
The boast of young Miranda's hands.
And first behold the maid admir'd
In sweet simplicity attir'd,
The rose that blushes all unseen
'Mid the desart's wildest green!
Oh that Ferdinand were by,
From his own Miranda's eye
With soothing sympathy sincere
To kiss the silver-shedding tear!
Yet oh forbear to wipe away
A tear that shines with pity's ray,
Nor from the virgin's breast remove
The gentle sigh of filial love!
Whoe'er th' enchanting scene shall view,
Shall catch the pleasing charm anew,
Impatient shall resolve the while
To seek the poet's desart isle,
And wish for Ariel's wings, to dwell
In magic Prosper's lonely cell.
Fair architect, your plastic art,
That thro' the eye can touch the heart,
Embellish fiction's wildest theme,
And realise the poet's dream;
With brightest fancy's potent spell
Hath built the hoar magician's cell,
Where oft he waves his sudden wand;
And with your graceful-flowing hand
Supplied each volume's wondrous store
Where still he cons his mystic lore:
Yours is the charm, with flowery bloom
That animates the rocky gloom;
That peoples the enchanted grove
With Virtue, Science, Beauty, Love,
Far in the desart shades retir'd;
And makes Miranda more admir'd.