Classic Poem

CHARACTER II.

SENSIBILITY .

CELINDA.

Say , sweet Mimbsa! wherefore dost thou fly
The gentlest touch? why droop thy shrivell'd leaves?
I would not harm thee, trembler; I but meant
To view thy glossy foliage, to explore
The wond'rous mechanism which contracts
Thy flowers susceptible. In the vast chain,
The fine gradation of created forms,
Thine is no common rank. Thou could'st not meet,
Like mountain pines, the rigour of the frost;
Or, as the oak, enroot thyself in storms.
Come, let me bear thee to the shelter'd South,
Ev'n there the fervour of the noon-day sun,
Or the chill dews of eve, would fatal prove.
Too delicate exotic, wherefore quit
Thy native soil? our rugged changeful clime
Ill suits thy efflorescence frail as fair.
In this rare plant my lov'd Celinda's mind
Is typify'd. On her the softest gales,
That from misfortunes wintry quarters blow,
Fall with the force of tempests. Tender fear,
Fond love, and sympathizing pity, form
Her mental portrait. There in vain we seek
The conscious firmness of heroic worth,
Or patient fortitude, who calmly bears
The secret bitings of the mortal asp,
And hides its wound ev'n from affection's eye.
But, in their stead, shall pity's pious tear
Bedew Celinda's cheek: still shall her tongue
Sweetly repeat the melancholy tale:
Still on the breast of sorrow shall she pour
Compassion's balm, and on pale want bestow
All, that the voice of lib'ral bounty bids.