To the Author of Clarissa by Thomas Edwards Lyrics

O master of the heart, whose magic skill
The close recesses of the soul can find,
Can rouse, becalm, and terrify the mind,
Now melt with pity, now with anguish thrill,
Thy moral page while virtuous precepts fill,
Warm from the heart, to mend the age designed,
Wit, strength, truth, decency all conjoined
To lead our youth to good, and guard from ill:
O long enjoy what thou so well hast won--
The grateful tribute of each honest heart
Sincere, nor hackneyed in the ways of men;
At each distressful stroke their true tears run,
And nature, unsophisticate by art,
Owns and applauds the labours of thy pen.