Classic Poem

In days when chivalry prevail'd,
And many a doughty chief assail'd,
Who oft in quest of noble fight,
Set out array'd like Mancha's knight;
When ignorance o'erspread this isle,
Since bless'd with Reason's sacred smile,
A valiant Prince, whose deeds in verse
Some loftier Poet shall rehearse,
Immortal Victory to requite,
For all his glories gain'd in fight,
Commands with utmost skill and care,
The choicest artists to prepare
A curious statue—They obey'd
In reverence to the Prince and Maid.

And now behold the statue brought,
Finish'd as e'er Pygmalion wrought,
And in a point of certain view,
To which four roads directly drew,
On pedestal of Gothic taste,
The coy, triumphant Damsel plac'd;
Her right hand grasp'd a pointed spear,
The emblem of destructive War,
Her left reclin'd upon a shield,
Whose outside blaz'd a golden field,
But paler lustre next her breast
Mild silver's modest ray confess'd;
One side, inscrib'd with Celtic lays,
Fair Victory's dread might displays;
Conspicuous on the other shone,
The homage he was proud to own.

One morn it chanc'd, as chance oft brings
From meerest trifles mighty things,
Two noble Knights arm'd cap-a-pee,
As trim as errant knights could be;
One all in sable armour dight,
And one array'd in lovely white,
From different quarters posting came
In search of all-inspiring fame:
The statue soon attracts their eyes,
Both gaz'd, and both confest surprize;
One views the golden side, and one
The side where modest silver shone;
When each with similar delight,
The different beauties thus recite:
And first began the sable Knight.

“This golden shield, and fine device,
“Proclaims the artist bold and nice:
“This golden shield!” reply'd the other,
“Surely you've lost your sight, good brother
“If I have eyes, or aught can view,
“This shield is of a silver hue.
“Sir!” quoth the Knight array'd in black,
“Yourself both sight and judgment lack;
“For sure as I am errant knight,
“Or ever broke a lance in fight,
“This shield we wond'ring here behold,
“This shield, I say, is sculptur'd gold:”
The other, with contemptuous sneer,
And silent scorn, repays the jeer.

Now anger glares, and from their eyes
Distemper'd passion's light'ning flies;
Defiance on defiance hurl'd,
And fury's banners are unfurl'd;
Swiftly their foaming palfreys wheel,
While each prepares the biting steel;
Quick the well-brandish'd lances join,
And chivalry's best arts combine;
Sharp was the combat, sharp their points,
Bruis'd were their sides, and stiff their joints:
His Rosinante now each Knight
Forsakes, in most disastrous plight;
The purple tides distain the ground,
Which flow from many a ghastly wound,
When a sage Druid chanc'd to rove,
From 'midst his oak-embowering grove;
He was of truth the sacred guide,
His warlike nation's grace and pride;
With many an attribute divine,
Wise, gentle, generous, benign.

The bleeding chiefs now panting lay,
Their souls on wing to quit their clay;
Ready, just ready to depart,
The warm stream issuing from the heart,
When the sage Druid, who well knew
The virtues of each herb that grew,
Exerts his utmost skill and care,
To snatch from death the warlike pair:
Success awaits the generous deed,
Their recent wounds no longer bleed,
Returning life, with blooming grace,
Begins to paint each hero's face;
And both in feeble accents strove
To praise the gentle Druid's love;
While he, with strong amazement wrought,
Enquires for what, for whom they fought?
Whence all this whirl of passion rose?
What envious discord made them foes?

The sable Knight, with courteous guise,
Attentive hears, and thus replies:
“Kind soother of our pains, attend,
“Thou soul's physician, father, friend;
“From trivial cause our quarrel rose,
“No injur'd beauty made us foes;
“No lofty hopes of tow'ring fame
“Inspir'd us with a rival claim;
“Strangers we are, by chance here brought,
“First met, where soon we rashly fought;
“That stubborn chief, perversely bold,
“Denies this shield is shining gold.”
“That,” quoth Sir White, “I still deny,
“'Tis you, Sir, are perverse, not I;
“Here, rev'rend Sage, with me, behold
“This silver shield, which he calls gold:
“From hence my instant passion grew,
“Who doubts my word shall own it true.”

The list'ning Druid inly griev'd,
And many a sigh his bosom heav'd;
Then mildly graceful silence broke,
His wisdom ravish'd as he spoke:
“O! will perverse of human kind,
“With passion's gusts to rend the mind;
“Hence rise these sudden starts of ire,
“That set our little world on fire!
“Ah! why is Reason thrown aside,
“Of Heaven the gift, of man the pride?
“Or why is her companion, Truth,
“Tho' bless'd in Heaven with endless youth,
“With meek-ey'd Peace, her constant friend,
“Forbid our erring steps to tend?
“Had these, my sons! but grac'd your train,
“This blood had never dy'd the plain.
“Wrong were ye both, and yet both right;
“For had ye, ere you join'd in fight,
“With calm attention view'd this shield,
“The fair device, the blazing field,
“At once, accordant, both had told
“How fair the silver, rich the gold.

“My words to prove, again look o'er
“The shield which caught your eyes before,
“Then instant change your sides, and view
“Your warm assertions both were true:
“This side the burnish'd gold displays,
“On that fair silver darts her rays;
“Had then delib'rate judgment sway'd,
“And Reason Anger's pow'r allay'd,
“This of yourselves you might have found,
“Nor stain'd with blood the peaceful ground:
“But as from noisome weeds and flow'rs
“We juices draw, by chymic pow'rs,
“Of sov'reign aid to banish pain,
“And usher rosy health again;
“So, from your errors, wisdom glean,
“And ev'ry sense from passion wean:
“Permit me, for your common weal,
“Now to intreat, with friendly zeal,
“That each his suppliant hands would rear,
“And by this brilliant goddess swear,
“Never in rash dispute engage,
“Nor war on light surmises wage;
“From this misconduct happier rise,
“Be noble, patient, just, and wise.”
Gay says, from things minute and mean,
A virtuous mind will morals glean;
Then statesmen, patriots, Whig, or Tory,
With candour weigh the recent story.