Classic Poem

In every state, in every station,
In every age, in every nation,
Still vanity and discontent
Their mutual aid each other lent;
Ah me! what pangs must fill that breast,
Where these two fiends have got possest,
What dire calamities ensue,
Yet ah! how very justly due.

In high-fam'd Athens long ago,
There liv'd, as Æsop's fables shew ,
A simple harper, but whose lays
Procur'd him much Plebeian praise:
When night drew on, in thrumming strain,
He'd oft divert the tippling train ,
The tippling train , would dance and sing,
And swear of harpers he was king.

Philosophers have oft confest,
The love of fame in every breast
Inherent is: and most would fain
Her trumpet's loudest blast obtain.
Yet very few of all who've strove,
So far have gain'd that lady's love,
But discontented with their lot,
Have lost the little share they'd got.

Puss'd with the praises of the croud,
With vanity his breast o'erflow'd.
" Shall I, says he, whose skill so rare,
That few to play with me will dare:
Shall I, whose heavenly sounding strains,
Can move these wretches without brains;
I, who like Orpheus, or Amphion
Can tame the savage bear, or lion,
And make e'en stocks, or stones, or trees,
Caper and dance just as I please;
Shall I divert the rabble rout,
And give my airs to every lout?
No — if these feel so great my art,
How I shall touch the noble heart!
How small each artist will appear,
If once I strike the judging ear:
It shall be so — a strong desire,
Now warms my breast with sacred fire;
I'll charm the stage, ye clowns adieu;
I've spent my time too long with you;
Profit, and fame, shall make amends,
I have them at my fingers ends.
Behold him on the Athenean stage,
At war with harmony engage;
Untowardly, he strikes the strings,
And harsher than his harp he sings;
Enrag'd the audience pelt, and scoff,
And clamour rends the house, off, off.

Amaz'd, he from the stage withdrew
And fought again the clownish crew;
But Fame who kept above his pace,
Had told them all his late disgrace;
With scorn they kick'd him out of door,
And bid him hum-strum there no more,
But with his lost and heavenly airs,
Go play to TREES , and dancing bears.