IN THE MANNER OF PETRARCH .

TO MISS CRACROFT.

O N thy fair morn, O hope-inspiring May!
The sweetest twins that ever Nature bore,
Where Hack thorn's vale her field-flower-garland wore,
Young Love and Fancy met the genial day:
And, all as on the thyme-green bank I lay,
A nymph of gentlest mien their train before,
Came with a smile; and " Swain, (she cried.) no more
To pensive sorrow tune thy hopeless lay:
Friends of thy heart, see Love and Fancy bring
Each joy that youth's enchanted bosom warms!
Delight that rifles all the fragrant spring!
Fair-handed Hope, that paints unfading charms!
And dove-like Faith, that waves her silver wing. —
These, Swain, are thine; for Nancy meets thy arms.