LINES, INSCRIBED TO MRS. WYNNE, ON THE BIRTH OF HER SON by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

OH! let me wake the carol gay,
And strike the lyre of pleasure;
For mirth inspires the genuine lay,
And animates the measure.

Blest was the hour, sweet infant boy,
That gave thee to maternal arms;
Propitious hope and smiling joy,
With rapture viewed thy blooming charms.

For thee, sweet babe, the artless muse,
A simple wreath composes;
And see, a genial tear bedews
Her garland formed of roses.

And oh! in all thy future days,
May virtue o'er thy breast preside;
Illume thy mind with sacred rays,
And ever be thy heavenly guide.

For thee I breathe an artless prayer,
To Heaven that prayer addressing,
May all thy life be free from care,
Enriched with every blessing.

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