Classic Poem

Now sound I a retreat; now I'll no more
Run all those devious paths I ran before;
I will no more range sullen groves, to lie
Entombed in a shade; nor basely fly
The dear society of light, to give
My thoughts their birth in darkness; I'll not live
Such deaths again: such dampy mists no more
Shall dare to draw an ugly screen before
My clearer fancy; I'll not deify
A failing beauty; idolize an eye.
Farewell, farewell, poor joys! let not my hearse
Bear witness I was never mad in verse,
Or play'd the fool in wit; no, I'll not have
Such themes increase the mourning at my grave.
Such thoughts I loathe, and cannot now resent;
Who ever gloried in his excrement?
Now I will rase those characters I wrote
So fairly from myself, now will I not
Suffer that pyramid, Love rais'd within
My soul, to stand the witness of her sin;
Nor will I ravish Nature to dispose
A violated and profaned rose
Upon a varnish'd cheek, nor lilies fear
Into a jaundice, to be set where ne'er
White was discover'd; no—Stay, I'll no more
Add new guilt to the old repented for,
To name a sin 's to sin; nor dare to break
Jests of my vices on another's back,
But with some searching humours festered lie
A renegado to all Poetry.
And must we now shake hands, dear madness, now,
After so long acquaintance? Did I vow
To sacrifice unto thee, what was brought,
As surplusage of a severer thought,
And break my word? Yes, from this very day
My fancy only shall on Marchpan play;
Now I'll turn politician, and see
How useful onions are in drapery,
Feast dunces that miscall the Arts, and dance
With all the world a galliard Ignorance.