Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/15

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Not to thy genius, so diffusely bright,My Muse, O Southey, pays her homage here,But to thy virtues, in the private sphereOf friendship best observ'd. The distant sightMay scan a mountain's majesty, and height,But only he, whose step hath wander'd near,Hath seen it's groves, and bosom'd cots appear,And felt their presence with a home delight.In early youth, thine ear was kindly lentTo the faint trials of my slender pipe,And now, when haply still, as then, unripe,To thee this public tribute I present,With admiration warm esteem will blend,And greet thee as the poet less than friend.
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