To--

Oh author of my being!-far more dear

To me than light, than nourishment, or rest,

Hygieia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear,

Or the life blood that mantles in my breast!

If in my heart the love of Virtue glows,

'T was planted there by an unerring rule;

From thy example the pure flame arose,

Thy life, my precept-thy good works, my school.

Could my weak pow'rs thy numerous virtues trace,

By filial love each fear should repress'd;

The blush of Incapacity I'd chance,

And stand, recorder of thy wealth, confess'd:

But since my niggard stars that gift refuse,

Concealment is the only boon I claim;

Obscure be still the unsuccessful Muse,

Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame.

Oh! of my life at once the source and joy!

If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey,

Let their folly their intent destroy;

Accept the tribute-but forget the lay.

Fanny Burney, Evelina, 1778.

The poem was dedicated, but dedication hidden, to Fanny Burney's father, who was kept in ignorance of the writing and following publication of her first book. This poem forms the first page of the book, which was at first only published accredited to 'A lady Author'. The book is in fact not her first but the sequel to an earlier destroyed piece.