"Nature, exerting an unwearied power,
Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower;
But seldom (as if fearful of expense)
Vouchsafes to man a poet's just pretence -
Fervency, freedom, fluency of thought,
Harmony, strength, words exquisitely sought;
Fancy, that from the bow that forms the sky,
Brings colours, dipt in heaven, that never die;
A soul exalted above earth; a mind
Skilled in the characters that form mankind;
And as the Sun, in rising beauty drest,
Looks to the westward from the dappled east,
And marks, whatever clouds may interpose
Ere yet his race begins, its glorious close;
An eye like his, to catch the distant goal;
Or ere the wheels of verse begin to roll,
Like his to shed illuminating rays
On every scene and subject it surveys:
Thus graced, the man asserts a poet's name,
And the world cheerfully admits the claim."
"Sweet Bard, whose mind, thus pictured in thy face,
O'er every feature spreads a nobler grace;
Whose keen but softened eye appears to dart
A look of pity through the human heart;
To search the secrets of man's inward frame;
To
weep with sorrow o'er his guilt and shame;
Sweet Bard, with whom, in sympathy of choice,
I've oft-times left the world, at Nature's voice,
To join the song that all the creatures raise
To carol forth their great Creator's praise;
Or, wrapt in visions of immortal day,
Have gazed on Truth in Zion's heavenly way.
Sweet Bard, may this, thine image, all I know,
Or ever may, of Cowper's form below,
Teach one who views it with a Christian's love
To seek and find thee in the realms above."
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