Author George Hardinge " Ye Nymphs, the secret theft unfold, Whose fairy touch converts to gold, And forms Elysian bowers? " Bright Fancy heard; and whispering Taste , In Beauclerc's mind, and scene, embrac'd, Reply'd, " The charm is ours . " Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments