Classic Poem

To every vulgar song, farewell!
Farewell to each low theme;
To strains which can offend poor N ELL ,
Or M ANSFIELD libels deem.

No more the bard will knaves expose,
Or bring their crimes to view;
G RIPUS thou may'st securely dose,
I'll say no more of you.

To election roar, and party noise,
I'll bid a long adieu!
To loud delirious midnight joys,
Unsolid, and untrue.

The raptur'd muse, on wings high borne,
To beauty forms the lay;
And every meaner aim with scorn
And contempt does survey.

To virtue, softness, grace, and love,
Triumphant lifts the song;
To all that feeling bosoms move,...
And such to thee belong.

Strong in my mind, dear lovely maid!
Thy image bright appears,
Illumes each dull, each gloomy shade,
And all my prospects cheers.

To thee, Maria ! thee, alone,
I form the sportive rhyme,
Thou who this faithful heart dost own,
And kindly gav'st me thine.

Friendship and love, your powers I hail,
The genuine balms of life,
Sure comforters when others fail,
Dispellers of our strife.

How oft, Maria , have we known
The blessings these bestow,
Oft' felt, and shall for ever own,
They make a heaven below.

Hail! virtuous love! thy power supreme
Refines, exalts the soul;
The troubled mind thou mak'st serene,
And feel thy soft controul.

Each generous sentiment is thine,
By thee each bliss is given,
And each emotion that's divine,
Each feeling full of heaven.

All sordid motives fly away,
From hearts that beat to thee;
Thou art man's pole-star, solar ray,
And mak'st him great and free.

Beneath thy influence alone,
For ever may we live;
Thy soft delicious impulse own;
Thy joys receive, and give.

While absent far, thus, dearest maid!
I sing, and think of thee,
And thy dear face, in smiles array'd,
I in idea see.

Happy to think this lowly verse,
With pleasure thou 'lt survey,
And oft' in musing mood rehearse,
Thy C LIO'S humble lay.

And as the silver Thames beside,
Thou rov'st with graceful tread,
And wanderest where his waters glide,
'Long Windsor's flow'ry mead.

(Where oft' enraptur'd have we stray'd,
And mark'd each prospect dear;
And to each dell, and lawn, and mead,
Breath'd out our vows sincere)

Oh! fondly mayst thou think of him,
Who Ouse's stream along,
Still makes Maria all his theme,
Her graces, all his song.

Farewell, dear girl! mayst thou be blest!
Thro' every varied scene,
Tho' troubles would thy peace molest,
Preserve thy mind serene.

Laugh at those little trifling cares,
Which thwart us every day,
Nor suffer great ones, (laid as snares)
Thy bosom to dismay.