A Song

Clio! smiling, soul-invader!
Soft amuser of my days,
Be my silent passion's aider,
Teach my tongue , to speak thy praise .

Thou, like heroes , scarr'd all over,
Wanting room, to suffer more;
Pil'd with praise , canst hear no lover
Tell thee ought, untold before.

Truth , with modest bounds , contented,
Rightly praising thee , must say,
More than falsehood e'er invented,
When she widest went astray.
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