The Seal

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
Pertinax Townly
Atticus Scriblerus Jun.