Classic Poem

Let meaner Spirits stoop to Tow precarious fame,
Content on gross and coarse applause to live,
And what the dull and sensless Rabble give,
Thou didst it still with noble scorn contemn,
Nor wouldst that wretched Alms receive,
The poor Subsistence of some bankrupt sordid name.
Thine was no empty vapour, rais'd beneath,
And form'd of common breath,
The false and foolish fire, that's whisk'd about
By popular Air, and glares a while, and then go's out:
But 'twas a solid, whole and perfect globe of light,
That shone all over, was all over bright,
And dar'd all sully'ing clouds, and fear'd no dark'ning night.
Like the gay Monarch of the Stars and Sky,
Who wheresoe're he do's display
His Soverain lustre and majestick ray,
Strait all the less and petty glories nigh
Vanish and shrink away,
O'rewhelm'd and swallow'd by the greater blaze of day:
With such a strong, an awfull and victorious beam
Appear'd (and ever shall appear) thy Fame,
View'd and ador'd by all th' undoubted race of wit,
Who only can endure to look on it,
The rest o'recome with too much light,
With too much brightness dazled, or extinguish'd quite.
Restless and uncontroul'd it now shall pass
As wide a course about the world as he,
And when his long-repeated travels cease,
Begin a new and vaster race,
And still tread round the endless circle of Eternity.