Classic Poem

Solicitor General in Ireland, &c.

Friend of my Youth! whose classic care refin'd,
First trac'd the op'ning mazes of my mind;
Pierc'd the dim shades of intellectual night,
And thro' each lab'rinth stream'd Wit's solar-light;
While from thy polish'd taste, and native fire,
The rugged Laws a softer charm acquire;
Or, at thy social board, with serious smile,
Th' invited N INE the A TTIC hour beguile;
Stiff Pedantry, and formal Pomp severe,
Far, far remov'd, — for E MERSON is there;
I, with dull doggrel, expiate my crimes;
Or, in cold wedlock couple rakish rhymes;
Laborious, to appear, by line, and rule,
That rev'rend thing, half mad-man, and half-fool,
By the whole globe, as solemnly rever'd,
As by the T URK , — tho' wanting staff and beard.
Ah! sure that mortal's lot is piteous hard,
Whom Fate, in vengeance, consecrates a Bard!
Condemn'd, still tugging at th' eternal oar,
To seek the port of Fame, but find no shore.
Thro' Satire's dang'rous shoals should he essay,
With rigging torne, to win his dauntless way,
Lo! in dread Criticism's dark disguise,
The ruthless daemons of the tempest rise;
Nor desp'rate fight, nor specious truce avail;
Their thunders soon o'ertake his flying Sail.
Yet, should his verse affect the gentler flow,
Harmonious tun'd to " elegies of woe; "
Ev'n that, in vain, may arrogate to please
Those Pirates on the rough Poetic Seas;
Still the fell rancour of their rage they keep,
And whelm " the puny whipster " in the deep.
Besides, (as flesh as frail,) in am'rous fret,
Smit by an auburn tress, or eye of jet,
Should he encounter some divine — Coquette;
Bid " flow'rs unbidden " kiss her balmy toes;
Inlay with pearl her rhinoceric nose;
Send Monsieur Z EPHYR , to perfume her breath;
Be- Delia and be-devil her to death;
What recompence awaits his tender pain,
But the loud laugh of ignorant disdain?
Perchance, (fresh fuel to the lover's hell!)
His A MORET has never learn'd — to spell;
" All but the nymph, who should redress his wrong,
Attend his Passion, and approve his song; "
She, the all-beauteous, the all-feeling fair,
Hums a new ballad to an Op'ra-air;
And the sweet strain, might lure an Angel down,
Is no more valu'd than her old, cast gown.
Hear then my stern resolve; nor Ye abuse
My pious purpose, Ye ador'd R EVIEWS !
Tho' weep the G RACES , and the M USES sigh,
Tho' C UPID put his finger in his eye,
That red-hair'd fidler, P HoeBUS , l deny.
To H UME-STREET let the ragged God repair;
His S MITH may find him out a vacant chair;
There, may his Sunship, smilingly, survey
A fair resemblance of his ancient sway;
While I, whom for his child he never chose,
Dive into Politics, and honest Prose.