A Fragment: Part of a Poem Wrote on Miss Bellamy, When in Dublin

From slavish rules, mechanic forms unty'd,
She soars with sacred nature for her guide:
The smile of peace—the wildness of despair—
The soft'ning sigh—the soul dissolving tear;
Each magic charm the boasted Oldfield knew,
Inchanting Bellamy revives in you.

'Tis thine, resistless, the superior art,
To search the soul, and trace the various heart;
With native force, with unaffected ease,
To form the yielding passions as you please!

Oldmixon's charms, by melody imprest,
May gently touch the song-enamour'd breast;
But transient raptures must attend the wound,
Where the light arrow is convey'd by sound!

Or should Mechel, all languishing advance,
Her limbs display'd in ev'ry maze of dance,
(The soul untouch'd) she captivates the sight;
But breathing wit, with judgment must unite,
To give the man of reason unconfin'd delight.