Classic Poem

Kindly suppress'd, your voice rolls soft, within,
And, in slow warblings, holds its transports in;
Yourself unpleas'd, in giving others pain,
The tide of tuneful mischiefs you restrain:
So, the fierce beams, which make all nature bright,
Revolving inward, check their long'd-for light;
Lest, deluging the world with seas of fire,
We die, beneath the lustre, we require.