Classic Poem

Such was the plea, in partial heat,
For Genius, I so fondly form'd,
Caught by the spell of numbers sweet,
And much too confidently warm'd,
When from aloft these accents broke,
Attend! — 'twas Reason 's self that spoke.

" Deem not the sorcery of song,
Can for perverted sense atone,
Nor palliate thou another's wrong,
More to extenuate thy own;
The gifts, assign'd by heav'nly laws,
Should be employ'd in heav'n's sole cause!

Soon lur'd by Pleasure's glitt'ring snare,
Intemp'rance suits the vulgar kind,
Not him, whose composition rare
Should be all energy! all mind!
Nor never did the grosser bowl
Raise the fine rapture of the soul!

Beauty, indeed, may charm the heart,
With purer glow, devoid of blame;
And Love may point his radiant dart,
With sparkles of celestial flame;
But, trust me, no exalted fire
E'er lurk'd in libertine desire.

Ill do I brook to view the youth,
With intellectual dainties stor'd,
(The banquet of ambrosial Truth)
Batten at E PICURUS ' board;
Or change, indelicate of bliss,
A H EBE 's, for a Harlot's kiss.

Wisdom, and Wit, where they reside,
Must ever claim superior praise,
But if from Prudence swerv'd aside,
Wisdom's a vapour, Wit a blaze,
A blaze, that as it shines, consumes,
While modest Worth immortal blooms.

Instead of strewing flow rets round,
Cultur'd Taste, with high disdain,
Will point to Virtue's bleeding wound,
And abjure the syren strain,
Matchless tho' its measures glide,
From Discretion wand'ring wide.

If the glitt'ring shafts of Song
Thou would'st shoot to heights of Fame,
Heedless of the meaner throng,
Be Morality thy aim;
Folly's louder shout despise,
Dare to please the Good and Wise!

So, shall wither'd Envy, fade
Before thy tuneful progress here;
Rapture hail thy sainted shade;
Holy Friendship drop a tear;
And minstrels of the starry clime,
Meet thee with congenial rhyme! "