Classic Poem

When Poets lavish all their Store,
 To paint a Mistress gay;
They prove not how their Souls adore,
 But what their Muse can say.

Fame, the great Object of their Vows,
 By various Names they woo;
And, while to Beauty Fancy bows,
 Their Souls a Breath persue.

Me no such vain Ambition movesm——
 Ye Bards, enjoy your Fame!
My Heart can simply say it loves :
 And heave M ONTELIA 's Name.

M ONTELIA 's Charms so far excell,
 They make my Soul their Slave;
She's more, at least, than I can tell;
 And all I wish to have!