Classic Poem

T HE limpid River's brilliant waves
Their lustre hide in desert caves,
And seem the open vales to shun,
As if their terror was the Sun.

In their own purity retir'd,
Unenvy'd pass, though unadmir'd;
The light abjure with no regret,
And cultur'd Flora's lap forget.

But still the murmurs that I hear
Explain to the instructed ear,
That, if in caverns now they roam,
The Ocean is their destin'd home.

Ev'n thus a Life that 's here obscure
Can immortality ensure;
And cheers its transitory doom
With hopes that fly beyond the tomb.