Classic Poem

On his Consorts of Divine Musick at Stationers-Hall

Such is the Vice, or Folly of this Age!
That few unbrib'd in Virtue's Cause ingage;
Without Relief, she sinks in vile Disdain,
Scorn'd! and despised! unless she promise Gain.
And then, perhaps, some mercenery Quill,
Discov'ring equal Want of Love, and Skill,
Takes up th' afflicted Cause, with vain Pretence,
And quite betrays it by a weak Defence.

But you, Dear Sir, by new and nobler Ways,
Inspire our Souls, and our Devotions raise:
Virtue! by you, in Lustre deck'd appears,
And sacred Harmony now charms our Ears,
Beyond th' imagin'd Musick of the Sphears.
Oh wou'd the Town, encourage your Design,
Or wou'd the pious Few! sincerely join;
How Quickly then might you reform the Stage,
And quell the spreading Vices of this Age?
Each modern Immorality subdue,
And holy Union! thro' the Land renew?

But you with Hydra Vices must ingage,
Which fear your Pow'r, and vent their impious Rage,
Lest your celestial Notes dissolve their Reign,
Redeem their Slaves, and Virtue crown again.
Thus Left alone! and unassisted too!
The pious Aim with Zeal you still pursue:
At your sole Charge, the Blessing you bestow,
And reach us what's above, by what we hear below.