Classic Poem

There lurks within thy lyre a dang'rous spell,
That lures my soul from Wisdom's dauntless aim;
Yet, if I know thy gen'rous bosom well,
Thou would'st not dash me from the steeps of Fame.

Trust me, thy melting plaint's melodions flow,
Would animate to love the icy grave;
And yet, if thy pure feelings well I know,
Thou would'st not sink me to an am'rous slave.

Grac'd with no ornaments of birth, or wealth,
That to the minions of Success belong,
Ev'n at the price of my sole treasure, health,
I own, that I would be renown'd for Song!

For this, by the pale taper's trembling ray,
My paler front presents a studious shade;
In whose dim eye, Mirth's sprightly sparks decay;
On whose brown cheek Youth's vernal blushes fade;

For this, I wander from the world aside,
Mutt'ring wild descants to the toiling deep,
'Mid the lone forest's leafy refuge hide,
And slight the blessings of inactive sleep.

Serene, while tempesting the sparkling brine,
The furious winds from ev'ry quarter roar,
Led by Philosophy's unclouded shine,
I seek Hope's watch-tow'r on a distant shore.

Nor measur'd dance, nor gay, theatric scene,
Nor woman's smile, my sterner sense invite;
Tho' Beauty, too, at times, will steal between,
And my heart vibrate with no mean delight;

Soft-smiling o'er the dreary wreck of Time,
When my A NTHEMOE 's semblance I behold,
Fix'd by the Muse's magic pow'r, sublime,
Her eye's blue languish, and her locks of gold!

Then, then, with my creative fancy fir'd,
P IGMALION -like, I fold the idol-form,
By Ages, yet unborn, to be admir'd,
Beyond the sweep of Desolation's storm!

Feel'st thou not, too, the elevated thought?
Those lesser Stars, whose transient lights adorn
Their twinkling spheres, ah! where shall they be sought,
When bursts the brightness of thy future Morn?

Then, freely, scatter from thy balmy breast,
What Feeling may receive, or Friendship give;
And, (spare a vaunt which would befit thee best,)
That thou may'st be immortal—let me live.