Classic Poem

I

In vain, in vain it is, I find
 To strive against our Fate ,
 We may as well command the Wind
Or th' Seas rude Waves to gentle manners bind,
 Or to Eternity prescribe a date,
As frustrate ought that Fortune has design'd.
For when we think we're Politicians grown,
 And live by methods of our own;
 We then obsequiously obey
Her Dictates, and a blindfull Homage pay.

II

For were't not so, surely I cou'd not be
Still slave to Rhime, and lazy Poetry
 I who so oft have strove,
 My freedom to regain;
And sometimes too, for my assistance took
Business, and sometimes too a Book,
Company, and sometimes Love:
 All which proves vain,
For I can only shake but not cast off my Chain.

III

Ah cruel Fate! all this thou did'st foreshow
 Ev'n when I was a Child;
 When in my Picture 's hand
 My Mother did command,
There shou'd be drawn a Lawrel-Bough:
Lo then my Muse sat by and smil'd,
To hear how some the Sentence did oppose,
 Saying an Apple, Bird , or Rose
Were objects which did more befit
My childish years, and no less childish wit.

IV

But my smiling Muse well knew that constant Fate
 Her promise wou'd compleat;
For Fate at my initiation ,
 In the Muses Congregation,
As my Responsor promis'd then for me,
 I shou'd forsake those three ,
Soaring honours, and vain sweets of pleasure,
And vainer fruits of worldly treasure ,
All for the Muses Melancholy Tree,
E're I knew ought of its great Mystery
 Ah gentle Fate, since thou wilt have it so
 Let thy kind hand exalt it to my brow.