Classic Poem

Did Fortune wait upon my Hand,
Cou'd I her various Gifts command,
Her noblest Offering wou'd I give
To Him whose Bounty bade me live,
A golden Goblet richly chas'd,
Close by a mantling Vine embrac'd,
Whose Fruitage round the Brim should shine,
And seem to yield the sparkling Wine,
Or radiant Gems, of Value rare,
Shou'd speak my Gratitude sincere,
For thy far nobler Gift to me,
Inestimable LIBERTY!

Tho' Poets boast a fair Estate,
They seldom deal in Gems or Plate;
For yet in all Parnassus Mold
There ne'er appear'd one Vein of Gold.
We toil, and labour all our Days
For a few Sprigs of barren Bays;
They, Thunder-proof, its Rage defy,
Yet, touched by Envy, blasted die.

Yet Verse can consecrate a name,
And worthy Deeds consign to fame;
Oh! could I raise a Song sublime,
Triumphant over Fate and Time,
Thy Virtue in the Lays divine
Should with immortal Lustre shine:
Let others place phantastic Joys
In orient Trinkets, splendid Toys!
While your exalted Soul refin'd,
Like Heav'n, accepts the GRATEFUL MIND.