IN THE POSSESSION OF MISS EDGEWORTH, PRESENTED TO HER BY A LADY.]

By beauty won from soft Italia’s land,

Here Cupid, Petrarch’s Cupid, takes his stand.

Arch suppliant, welcome to thy fav’rite isle,

Close thy spread wings, and rest thee here awhile;

Still the true heart with kindred strains inspire,

Breathe all a poet’s softness, all his fire;

But if the perjured knight approach this font,

Forbid the words to come as they were wont,

Forbid the ink to flow, the pen to write,

And send the false one baffled from thy sight.

_Miss Edgeworth._

THE

EVERY-DAY BOOK

AND

TABLE BOOK;