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Poem	[Pg 175] SONNET CLX. Pasco la mente d' un sì nobil cibo. TO SEE AND HEAR HER IS HIS GREATEST BLISS. I feed my fancy on such noble food,That Jove I envy not his godlike meal;I see her—joy invades me like a flood,And lethe of all other bliss I feel;I hear her—instantly that music rareBids from my captive heart the fond sigh flow;Borne by the hand of Love I know not where,A double pleasure in one draught I know.Even in heaven that dear voice pleaseth well,So winning are its words, its sound so sweet,None can conceive, save who had heard, their spell;Thus, in the same small space, visibly, meetAll charms of eye and ear wherewith our raceArt, Genius, Nature, Heaven have join'd to grace. Macgregor. Such noble aliment sustains my soul,That Jove I envy not his godlike food;I gaze on her—and feel each other goodEngulph'd in that blest draught at Lethe's bowl:Her every word I in my heart enrol,That on its grief it still may constant brood;Prostrate by Love—my doom not understoodFrom that one form, I feel a twin control.My spirit drinks the music of her voice,Whose speaking harmony (to heaven so dear)They only feel who in its tone partake:Again within her face my eyes rejoice,For in its gentle lineaments appearWhat Genius, Nature, Art, and Heaven can wake. Wollaston.
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