The seal with awful silence lift
Which guards the spell of plums and spicing!
Three smiling Graces carv’d the gift,
Three busy Cupids stole the icing.
This paper sprang from purest flax
Spun by the matron-hands of Duty:
Love held the taper, and the wax
Was redden’d by the blush of Beauty.
Let maiden hands divide the prize
Rich with triumphant Hymen’s blessing,
Then Hope shall bless your dreaming eyes
With ev’ry treasure worth possessing!
May 2d 1816
E. P. Beauclerc
Atticus Scriblerus Jun.