Classic Poem

To heights where Fancy ne'er aspir'd,
In what blest region of the sky,
Eludes the Queen of Love retir'd,
The Sophist's art, the Poet's eye.

Not she for whom Cythera's bowers,
Or Aphac's violated steep,
Or proud Assyria's guilty towers,
Licentious revels wont to keep.

Thee rather modest Nymph! I greet,
The sage Athenian's chaster theme,
While echoed to his accents sweet,
The oliv'd roofs of Academe.

Still Goddess thy permitted view
Charms more than mortal can reveal,
Instruct each sense, to nature true,
The eye to judge, the heart to feel.

Within us dwell those forms divine,
Which thy sole image can impart;
We rear to thee no marble shrine,
Whose living temple is—the heart!