Should Phaebus sing rejected by the strain,
That lulls the mind with pleasure false and vain,
The syren HOPE, that in thy verse appears,
So far she captivates all eyes, all ears;
Shews in each charm the force of dang'rous skill,
Which gains by pleasure, surer pow'r to kill.
My faithful numbers own an honest aim,
I wish instruction, not aspire to fame;
Let truth th' important question then decide,
Let reason, council, and experience guide,
Like men, not poets, let us judge to know,
If HOPE to mortals is a friend or foe.
Fair are the scenes of bliss she sets in view,
But is that bliss still false, or is it true?
Lo! millions hasten at her magic call,
To grasp that joy she promises to all;
Fond expectation brightens at her sight,
And life feels every disappointment light.
But soon her objects shrink from our embrace,
And leave us wearied of an endless chase,
As children, who with tinsel'd trifles play,
Yet weep whene'er the tarnish'd toys decay,
So shadowy forms of BLISS delude the mind,
They fly, the fond pursuer's left behind,
And HOPE, to Happiness, still courts us on,
Till we, too late, perceive ourselves undone.
Mark where the hero, thro' the crimson field,
The laurel seeks, her hand shall never yield,
To the sad exile on some desart shore,
She points that country he shall see no more;
Or to the slave, who sinks beneath his chain,
Shews him the freedom he shall ne'er regain.
She bids the statesman fortune's wheel ascend,
Till on a scaffold, all his projects end;
Thro' her the miser eyes the golden plumb,
But dies, before he gathers half the sum;
Oft friendship's pleasing habit she puts on,
But when misfortune comes, the phantom's gone!
E'en love's sweet form, the sorceress can assume,
A flow'r that promises eternal bloom,
But soon enjoyment makes that flow'r decay,
That dew exhaling in the noon-tide ray,
Or absence cool, or rigid bleak despair,
Dissolve the fleeting vision into air.
Thus HOPE, like C IRCE , boasts her tyrant thrall,
And deals th' intoxicating cup to all,
The wise alone, like great U LYSSES think,
Reject her offer, and forbear to drink;
Yet 'tis no wonder that we disagree,
Since HOPE, our eyes thro' different mediums see.
That lulls the mind with pleasure false and vain,
The syren HOPE, that in thy verse appears,
So far she captivates all eyes, all ears;
Shews in each charm the force of dang'rous skill,
Which gains by pleasure, surer pow'r to kill.
My faithful numbers own an honest aim,
I wish instruction, not aspire to fame;
Let truth th' important question then decide,
Let reason, council, and experience guide,
Like men, not poets, let us judge to know,
If HOPE to mortals is a friend or foe.
Fair are the scenes of bliss she sets in view,
But is that bliss still false, or is it true?
Lo! millions hasten at her magic call,
To grasp that joy she promises to all;
Fond expectation brightens at her sight,
And life feels every disappointment light.
But soon her objects shrink from our embrace,
And leave us wearied of an endless chase,
As children, who with tinsel'd trifles play,
Yet weep whene'er the tarnish'd toys decay,
So shadowy forms of BLISS delude the mind,
They fly, the fond pursuer's left behind,
And HOPE, to Happiness, still courts us on,
Till we, too late, perceive ourselves undone.
Mark where the hero, thro' the crimson field,
The laurel seeks, her hand shall never yield,
To the sad exile on some desart shore,
She points that country he shall see no more;
Or to the slave, who sinks beneath his chain,
Shews him the freedom he shall ne'er regain.
She bids the statesman fortune's wheel ascend,
Till on a scaffold, all his projects end;
Thro' her the miser eyes the golden plumb,
But dies, before he gathers half the sum;
Oft friendship's pleasing habit she puts on,
But when misfortune comes, the phantom's gone!
E'en love's sweet form, the sorceress can assume,
A flow'r that promises eternal bloom,
But soon enjoyment makes that flow'r decay,
That dew exhaling in the noon-tide ray,
Or absence cool, or rigid bleak despair,
Dissolve the fleeting vision into air.
Thus HOPE, like C IRCE , boasts her tyrant thrall,
And deals th' intoxicating cup to all,
The wise alone, like great U LYSSES think,
Reject her offer, and forbear to drink;
Yet 'tis no wonder that we disagree,
Since HOPE, our eyes thro' different mediums see.