Daphne, from Ovid._
In Phoebus, Wit (as Ovid said) Enchanting Beauty woo'd; In Daphne beauty coily fled, While vainly Wit pursu'd.
But when you trace what Ovid writ, A diff'rent turn we view; Beauty no longer flies from Wit, Since both are join'd in you.
Your lines the wond'rous change impart, From whence our laurels spring; In numbers fram'd to please the heart, And merit what they sing.
Methinks thy poet's gentle shade Its wreath presents to thee; What Daphne owes you as a Maid, She pays you as a Tree.
The charming poem by the same author, beginning--
"My days have been so wond'rous free,"
has the additional fourth stanza,--
"An eager hope within my breast, Does ev'ry doubt controul, And charming Nancy stands confest The fav'rite of my soul."
Can any of your readers supply the name of the "young lady" who translated the story of Phoebus and Daphne?
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