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Mary Darby Robinson - Sonnet to Amicus
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WHOE`ER thou art, whose soul-enchanting song
  Steals on the sullen ear of pensive woe;
To whom the sounds of melody belong,
  Sounds, that can more than human bliss bestow; 

Like the wak`d God of day, whose rays pervade
  The spangled veil of night, and fling their fires
O`er the cold bosom of the em`rald glade,
  While bath`d in tears, the virgin orb retires. 

Thy glowing verse illumes my path of care,
  And warms each torpid fibre of my heart,
And tho` my MUSE exults thy smiles to share,
  She feels the force of thy superior art;
YET, shall she proudly own her timid lays,
The cherish`d darlings of thy ENVIED PRAISE.
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