Classic Poem

V IG'ROUS erewhile, in our luxuriant clime,
The laurel rear'd its sacred head sublime,
And, oft, beneath its wide-extended shade,
The maiden Muses with young Genius play'd;
Nor absent was the many-chorded lyre,
To melt with feeling, or with love to fire,
'Till list'ning Angels lent a partial ear,
And Harmony herself forsook her sphere.
Then sang that beauteous boy, whose charming art,
Could thaw the coldest, tame the fiercest heart;
Oh! sweeter than the balmy breath of morn,
On F LORA 's bosom fed, of R APTURE born!
O'er the bewitching wonder of whose face,
Soft smiles were scatter'd by each rose-lip'd Grace;
While hov'ring Fancy, from her rainbow-plume,
Flung heav'nly fragrance, flung ambrosial bloom!
Now, long, in silence, has he droop'd forlorn,
His flute discarded, and his chaplet torne;
No S YDNEY bade the measur'd magic flow,
Reviv'd his spirit, and assuag'd his woe;
'Till, proud vain Fashion's vulgar path to quit,
And from the pomp of wealth, descend to wit,
Thy glowing numbers, drest in rich array,
Divinely vindicate his hallow'd sway,
Thro' ev'ry line his native warmth effuse,
The Muse's friend, and fav'rite of the Muse;
Nor shall the blushing Stranger scorn our Isle,
Won by the kindred sanction of C ARLISLE .