| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | I. To Belinda | | By Robert Treat Paine (1773–1811) |
| | | PATHETIC chantress! Nature’s feeling child! | |
| Thou, like thy parent, rul’st a varied sphere, | |
| Where judgment ripens, fancy blossoms wild; | |
| Thy page the landscape, and thy mind the year. | |
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| Oft in the rainbow’s heaven-enchasing beams, | 5 |
| Thy hand, sweet limner, many a pencil dips; | |
| And oft receive Piera’s sacred streams | |
| New inspiration from Belinda’s lips. | |
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| Pure, as the bosom of the virgin rose, | |
| Blooms the rich verdure of a heart sincere; | 10 |
| And e’en Belinda’s smile more radiant glows, | |
| Through the clear mirror of a pearly tear. | |
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| But ah! her lyre in hushed oblivion sleeps, | |
| While Edwin mourns, and all Parnassus weeps! | | | | |
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