As thro’ this sylvan Scene I stray’d,
I saw and lov’d the Iv’ry Maid:
And hearing that she fled from Man,
I begg’d this Form of mighty Pan;
To try, by ev’ry winning Art,
To gain Possession of her Heart;
When raging Tempests cloud the Sky,
Transported at her Feet to lie;
When Phoebus brightens up the Weather,
To trip it o’er the Lawns together.
(Mary Barber)
More Poetry from Mary Barber:
Mary Barber Poems based on Topics: Art, Man, Weather- To Mrs. Ward. By The Same. (Mary Barber Poems)
- To A Lady Who Commanded Me To Send Her An Account In Verse (Mary Barber Poems)
- To Alexander Pope, Esq. (Mary Barber Poems)
- The Prodigy. (Mary Barber Poems)
- Written For My Son, And Spoken By Him, At A public Examination For Victors. (Mary Barber Poems)
- To Mrs. Strangeways Horner, With A Letter From My Son; (Mary Barber Poems)