Mrs. Hofland, A Season at Harrogate
“ No charmer that equals thy form or thy face, Tho' W—m—ld such majesty dwells in thy mien, And in W—ts—n's mild eyes such true sweetness is seen, That really my muse is perplex'd to declare, How one can excel where so many are fair, Oh woman! dear woman! without you all nature, Would be to my mind like a draught of this water, And may he whose cold heart and dull head would disprove, The magic of beauty the solace of love, And seek from rude man your soft claims to dissever, Be condemn'd without mercy to drink it for ever, Ye are stars of the night! ye are gems of the morn! ”
