Classic Poem

FANCY , for once, her airy wing shall spread,
And stretch her pinions o'er the verdant mead;
But not to sing of fierce, or hostile ranks,
Or heroes conq'ring on the Ganges' banks;
Nor frozen Danube, nor the Tyber's stream,
But happy Dover, is my gentler theme.

With good Honoria would I trace the scene,
The flow'ry lawns, the grots of evergreen;
The lofty elms, and all the blooming pride,
Where Dover's silv'ry winding waters glide;
Pleas'd with the bounties that kind nature pours
Profusely down from her exhaustless stores:
But yet I feel my feeble pinions droop,
Nor dare I trust the silken wing of hope;
Left when exalted in my brittle car,
To fail aloft as phaeton in air,
I meet the fate of that presumptuous youth,
Whose mad ambition taught one solemn truth;
And bade dull genius tread his destin'd sphere,
Nor scorch his wings by venturing too near,
The sacred mount, devoted to the muse,
And thus disgusted, all the nine refuse,
To dictate numbers that may flow with ease,
And most I fail, when most I with to please.

Will the soft mantle of a gentle friend,
Then cover all that truth cannot commend?
Yet this, perhaps, might frustrate my design,
She, in oblivion, might enwrap each line;
For every portrait that my pen can paint,
To her descriptive eloquence is faint;
As while beside the winding stream she roves,
And views the prospects from the pleasing groves,
She lifts her heart to celebrate the hand,
That scatters blessings o'er this happy land;
This land of plenty, this delicious vine,
By heav'n mark'd out for some august design.

Truth's sacred banners may be here unfurl'd,
And genius spread her graces o'er the world;
Here other Boyles or Newtons yet may rise,
And trace the wonders of the western skies;
More than one W — — p may adorn the seat,
Of bright Apollo's favorite retreat;
When Harvard's sons may spread the arts refin'd,
Diffusing knowledge o'er the human mind;
While every star its kindly influence lends,
Till Harvard's fame throughout the world extends.

Then smiling Ceres, placid and serene,
Shall unmolested her ripe vintage glean;
Sweet harmony erect her graceful head,
And happy peasants tread the cheerful glade.

Events roll o'er, and on the wing of time,
Disclose new wonders — systems more sublime;
Yet rapid thought anticipates the scene,
Sees empire rising with majestic mein;
When peace again shall glad Columbia's shore,
And conq'ring heroes freedom shall restore;
When troops no more are canton'd round the plain,
Nor vict'ries won, nor routed armies slain;
When fresh blown laurels spring from Warren's grave,
Freedom to dress, and decorate the brave,
For whom kind fortune wreathes the crown of same,
And stamps th' initials of her fav'rite name;
When Washington, conspicuous o'er the rest,
By heroes, patriots, and by foes caress'd,
May quit the field, and court the rural scene;
There with his friend, the good and valiant Greene,
With conscious worth each victory review,
And still Columbia's happiness pursue.
Yet both must weep the cold Canadian plain,
Where a Montgom'ry, and a Wolfe were slain.

How have I left fair Dover's rippling stream,
To gurgle on, and touch'd a bolder theme! —
Forgive my wand'ring from the beauteous groves,
Where warb'ling songsters chant their vernal loves.

Vast crowded scenes, have rush'd upon the mind,
And led me far from what I first design'd.
I'll check the sallies of my rambling muse,
If candor these excursions will excuse:
Or if my friend, the good Helvidius, deign,
To hark a moment to the pu'rile strain;
If from the wonders of the vast expanse,
Where viewing long the planetary dance,
He from the starry region will descend,
And gently chide the follies a friend;
I'll mark the censure as a proof sincere
Of gen'rous friendship, and the frown revere;
Though it enjoins long silence on my pen,
The mandate I'll obey — nor write again.