Classic Poem

ODE VI

1

Noe more;
Let me a while be free,
To my deare Muses; exercise your power
On other men, not me;
I am a freeman; know
I am my Selfe; and you
Can but pretend, (at best) for what you fight;
Long usurpation, cannot give you right.

2

Tis mine;
The heart, you would subdue,
And Challenge by prescription, in a twine
Of many years, to you;
I will in the high Court
Of Justice, make report
Of my Sad Case; and beg, on bended knees,
I may have right, from him who all wrong Sees.

3

Tis true;
You entred, by a sleight,
Upon my simple nonage; for you drew
A faire pretext of right;
Few freinds (god wot) I had,
To give advice, or ayde;
But I must yeild my Earlie years, to those
Who strangers were, and were indeed my foes.

4

Now man;
Shall I be Slaved Still?
And kept a Child with Trifles? Noe; I can
Not soe forget the Skill
By nature lent; my years
Are now past Childish fears;
And my free Spirrit scornes, to obey your power:
Goe seeke an orphan; I am yours noe more.