Classic Poem

Curse on the venal pen, that hands to fame,
In flattering strains, the worthless and the proud
That dares exalt the tyrant's hateful name,
Or raise the villain 'bove the vulgar croud!

What tho' a prince's smiles befriend the man,
And wealth and power, and pomp and titles too;
Yet if the wretch pursues not virtue's plan,
Let him in proper light be held to view.

And tell mankind this lesson o'er and o'er,
That real worth alone is truly great;
That no distinction can than this be more,
Or lift its owner to an higher state.

Perish the verse! that dares applaud a name,
That infamy alone hath render'd high;
That all the virtuous have consign'd to shame,
And all the wise have long in scorn pass'd by.

But when from earth are snatch'd the good and brave,
When heaven takes her favourite sons away;
When K EMPENFELT is sunk beneath the wave,
'Tis injury not then to form the lay.

'Tis then in justice to the sons of worth,
We ought each godlike character to spread,
To hold them up to all the wondering earth,
And bid the living in their footsteps tread.

Hail honour'd shade! while virtue is held dear,
While real valour boasts her friends below;
Remembrance oft' with many a falling tear,
Shall tell the complicated tale of woe.

And oft' the brave shall sigh, and oft' relate,
With tearful eyes, the melancholy day;
Recount the Royal George's hapless fate,
And all the horrors of the scene display.

Hail honor'd shade! and not in public life
Renown'd alone…thine was the happy art
To aid domestic virtue, lessen strife,
And bid joy revel in the grief-worn heart.

For this the tear shall start, when thou art nam'd,
For this thy praise to latest days extend;
The loss of K EMPENFELT , the great, the fam'd,
Shall every feeling breast with grief distend.

A man and hero future time will say,
In every varied line of life the same,
In private form'd, each virtue to display
In public to acquire exalted fame!