Classic Poem

ODE XXI

1

When Ease and Sleepe, the busye world has husht;
And Sixe howers cold, the Sun our Hemisphere
Has left in Darke;
I, with the Muses Joy, and freely there,
Expostulate my Fancies, to the Just
Ayme of their marke.

2

A Thousand objects, flitt within my braine;
Some slip, as shadowes; some like Columnes stand
To fixe upon;
Which I survay, and with a serious hand
Delineate; cheiflie to entertaine
My selfe alone.

3

And though my Body hardly well allowes
These frequent watchings; I am soe much wed
To my Delight;
When Ease and Health, would move me to my bed,
And (free from guilt) with unperplexed browes,
Might sleepe, the Night;

4

Yet rather Chuse I, to my Healths impaire,
With gentle Muses, to bestow my Time
In the weake blaze
Of a Sad Lampe; and free from greater Crime,
Sing to my selfe, the Fancies I prepare,
A Thousand waies.

5

And I will Sing great Things; perhaps to please
The Judging Reader; and to pussle those
Who pretend more.
But Stay; my carefull Leech noe more allowes,
Checks my Disorder; and has stay'd to dresse
Mee, a long Hower;

6

For, I must now observe Him; but when Time
M' imposthum'd members, shall againe make light,
I will be free,
In midnight Revels to the Appetite
Of my owne Genius in the purest Rhime
And Poesie.