Classic Poem

Not famed Pieria's hallow'd Spring,
Near which the sacred Sisters sing,
Could more deserve the Poet's Lays,
His softest Song, his choicest Praise,
Than Mallow's sweet inspiring Stream,
The Source of Health, the Muse's Theme.
Thy Draughts, Nepenthe like, remove
All Sorrows, but the Pains of Love:
And on thy Banks such Nymphs appear,
That none escape that Passion here.
While Art, in Vain attempts to shew
Their Features, and celestial Glow;
Thy smooth, expanded, liquid Glass,
Lively reflects each beauteous Face,
And shows them that transcendent Bloom,
Which from thy Bounty they assume.

If all be true which Poets dream,
There dwells a Nymph in ev'ry Stream;
Sweet Naiad that inhabit'st here,
In limpid Brook, or Fountain clear,
O teach me, in exalted Verse,
The matchless Charmers to rehearse,
And as you gently glide along,
To distant Fields convey my Song.

First sing our Queen, sublimely grac'd,
With Breeding, Elegance, and Taste;
And Blaney , with each Charm replete,
Which decks the Worthy or the Great;
In Dunscomb's faultless Form and Mind,
A thousand winning Charms we find;
And graceful Bond , whose easy Air
Bespeaks the unaffected Fair.

O Lysaught ! such a Form as thine,
In Homer's deathless Lays should shine;
Since he, who Helen's Beauties drew,
Alone can give thy Charms their due:
From thee I turn my dazzl'd Sight,
And lo! where radiant Plunkett bright,
As Noon-tide Sun in Summer Skies.
Wounds with new Light my aking Eyes.

Ah Mallow ! what avail thy Shades?
If tyrant Love their Peace invades;
Not all thy Groves and wooded Hills,
Thy cooling Streams, or healing Rills,
Can guard us from his piercing Rays,
Or give the burning Anguish Ease;
Thy Waters quench each meaner Fire,
But make this Heaven-born Flame mount higher.

In Jepson's blooming Form we meet
The Gay, the Sprightly, and the Sweet;
While Smith , with Virgin Beauty crown'd,
Shall with her Sisters be renown'd
Thro' Time, and leave a deathless Name,
Fair as their virtuous Mother's Fame.
Not Philomel's melodious Throat,
Can equal Brusted's warbled Note;
Soft Syren! whose enchanting Strains,
Fetter the prison'd Soul in Chains.
With Rapture on the Dance we gaze
When Purcell swims th' harmonious Maze

How many Charmers yet remain!
Well worthy the sublimest Strain!
What Hearts unnumber'd shall be won
By Colthurst, Harper, Knap , and Dun !
And thou, agreeable Codroy,
The noblest Poet might'st employ.

What blooming Beauties smile around!
Thick as the Flow'rets paint the Ground,
When warmer Suns and genial Rain
Raise them to deck the verdant Plain;
Thick as the Stars their Beams display,
Which join to form the Milky Way.

Ah, fair ones! Language is too faint,
The Graces ye possess to paint;
Happy, if my aspiring Strain
Your judging Ears may entertain;
The Verse, believe me, is well meant,
However short of the Intent:
Smile, then, on my ambitious Aim,
And give your Poet endless Fame.