Poems (Sewell)/On sitting with Mrs. Siddons, at Chapel

by Mary Young Sewell

ON SITTING IN THE SAME PEW WITH Mrs. SIDDONS, AT PERCY-STREET CHAPEL.

Oh bright Devotion! thou whose heav'nly pow'r
Dispels the darkness of Affliction's hour!
Ah! wherefore to thy holy altars led,
Few are the vot'ries from Destruction fled?
Alas! how few, escap'd from Pleasure's snare,
Who view the sweets, yet dread the Serpent there!
Her syren voice invites the ear astray,
Till Time and Sorrow trace the rugged way;
Then feeble Age and Mis'ry seek their guide,
And yield that tribute blooming Youth denied.—
But lo! thy Siddons comes—a fairer prize!.
And kindling virtues sparkle in her eyes!—
Even she! who yields to Fancy charms so rare;
How pure, Devotion! are thy graces there!
Even she whose air no study cou'd impart,
But energy of soul, and warmth of heart.

Go on, fair votary, still thy path pursue—
Instruct us how to share thy feelings too;
Bright as thy genius, as thy honour clear,
We see the Truth—There's no Deception Here!