To Mrs. Barber

See, the bright Sun renews his annual Course,
Each Beam re--tinges, and revives its Force,
By Years uninjur'd; so may'st thou remain,
Not Time from thee, but thou from Time may'st gain:
O might the Fates thy vital Thread prolong,
And make thy Life immortal, as thy Song!

Less Lustre waits the God, when he refines
The rip'ning Metal in Peruvian Mines;
Brightens the Crystal with transparent Day,
Or points the Di'mond with its sparkling Ray;
Than when, delighted, he thy Soul inspires,
Informs thy Judgment, and thy Fancy fires;
Assists thee striking out some bold Design,
And breathes immortal Honours on each Line:
In common as His Rays on all descend,
So You the Great delight, the Poor befriend:
As Heat productive His bright Beams bestow,
So, warm with Life, your pow'rful Numbers flow:
As He from Clouds bursts forth divinely bright,
So Envy sets You in a fairer Light:
Yet, tho' thus far Similitude we see,
One Thing disturbs the wond'rous Harmony;
With faded Light the Winter Sun appears,
Whilst You shine brighter in Decline of Years.

by Mary Barber

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