Hail! sweet Louisa! o'er these votive flow'rs
Friendship and Fancy weave the joyful song,
Wing with fresh rose-leaves all the train of hours,
That in the distant aether float along!
Like those fair flowrets given by thy hand,
Like thy own beauty, blooming and serene,
The vision of thy future life is plann'd,
And forms a clear, a bright, and varied scene!
That countenance so gentle, and so kind,
That heart, which never gave a harsh decree,
Suit all the turns of thy harmonious mind,
And must, perforce, with destiny agree.
This from the Sibyl's leaves affection drew,
O, be the omen just! the promise true!