Greatest of bards! O hear my prayer!
Gleam on my soul with chearing view:
Yet think not that I rashly dare
One of thy footsteps to pursue.
How have I, in my youthful age,
Ador'd to see the passions rage!
As when her swain with Juliet strove,
Who felt the anguish most of love;
Or when Old England's annals were display'd,
And Piercy storm'd in martial fire array'd.