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Mary Darby Robinson - To Cesario
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CESARIO, thy Lyre`s dulcet measure,
  So sweetly, so tenderly flows;
That could my sad soul taste of pleasure,
  Thy music would soften its woes. 

But ah, gentle soother, where anguish
  Takes root in the grief-stricken heart;
`Tis the triumph of sorrow to languish,
  `Tis rapture to cherish the smart. 

The mind where pale Mis`ry sits brooding,
  Repels the soft touch of repose;
Shrinks back when blest Reason intruding,
  The balm of mild comfort bestows. 

There is luxury oft in declining,
  What pity`s kind motives impart; 
And to bear hapless fate, unrepining,
  Is the proudest delight of the heart. 

Still, still shall thy Lyre`s gentle measure,
  In strains of pure melody flow;
While each heart beats with exquisite pleasure,
  SAVE MINE­the doom`d VICTIM OF WOE.
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