Classic Poem

Alike partaking of celestial fire,
Poets and heroes to renown aspire,
Till, crown'd with honour and immortal name,
By wit or valour led to equal fame,
They mingle with the gods who breath'd the noble flame.
To high exploits the praises that belong
Live but as nourish'd by the poet's song.
A tree of life is sacred poetry;
Sweet is the fruit, and tempting to the eye:
Many there are who nibble without leave,
But none who are not born to taste survive.
Waller shall never die, of life secure
As long as Fame or aged Time endure:
Waller! the Muse's darling, free to taste
Of all their stores, the master of the feast;
Not like old Adam, stinted in his choice,
But lord of all the spacious paradise.
Those foes to virtue, fortune, and mankind,
Fav'ring his same, once to do justice join'd;
No carping critic interrupts his praise,
No rival strives but for a second place;
No want constrain'd (the writer's usual fate)
A poet with a plentiful estate;
The first of mortals who before the tomb
Struck that pernicious monster, Envy, dumb;
Malice and Pride, those savages, disarm'd;
Not Orpheus with such pow'rful magic charm'd.
Scarce in the grave can we allow him more
Than, living, we agreed to give before.
His noble Muse employ'd her gen'rous rage
In crowning virtue, scorning to engage
The vice and follies of an impious age.
No Satyr lurks within this hallow'd ground,
But nymphs and heroines, kings and gods, abound:
Glory, and arms, and love, is all the sound.
His Eden with no serpent is defil'd,
But all is gay, delicious all, and mild.
Mistaken men his Muse of flatt'ry blame,
Adorning twice an impious tyrant's name.
We raise our own by giving same to foes:
The valour that he prais'd he did oppose.
Nor were his thoughts to poetry confin'd,
The state and bus'ness shar'd his ample mind:
As all the fair were captives to his wit,
So senates to his wisdom would submit.
His voice so soft, his eloquence so strong,
Like Cato's was his speech, like Ovid's was his song.
Our British kings are rais'd above the hearse,
Immortal made in his immortal verse;
No more are Mars and Jove poetic themes,
But the celestial Charles's and just James:
Juno and Pallas, all the shining race
Of heav'nly beauties, to the Queen give place:
Clear like her brow, and graceful, was his song,
Great like her mind, and like her virtue strong.
Parent of gods! who dost to gods remove,
Where art thou plac'd, and which thy seat above?
Waller the god of Verse we will proclaim;
Not Phœbus now, but Waller, be his name:
Of joyful bards the sweet seraphic quire
Acknowledge thee their oracle and sire;
The spheres do homage, and the Muses sing
Waller the god of Verse who was the king.