Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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.
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.
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.
But ah! her lyre in hushed oblivion sleeps,
While Edwin mourns, and all Parnassus weeps!

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