Classic Poem

When arts and arms, beneath Eliza's smile,
Spread wide their influence o'er this happy isle,
A golden reign, uncurs'd with party-rage,
That foe to taste, and tyrant of our age;
Ere all our learning in a libel lay,
And all our talk in politics or play,
The statesman oft would soothe his toils with wit,
What Spenser sung, and Nature's Shakspeare writ;
Or to the laurell'd grove, at times, retire,
There woo the Muse, and wake the moving lyre.
As fair examples, like ascending Morn,
The world at once enlighten and adorn,
From them diffus'd the gentle arts of peace
Shot brightening o'er the land with swift increase,
Rough nature soften'd into grace and ease,
Sense grew polite, and Science sought to please.
Reliev'd from yon rude scene of party din,
Where open Baseness vies with secret Sin,
And safe embower'd in Woburn's airy groves,
Let us recall the times our taste approves,
Awaken to our aid the mourning Muse,
Through every bosom tender thought infuse,
Melt angry Faction into moral sense,
And to his guests a Bedford's soul dispense.
And now, while Spring extends her smiling reign,
Green on the mountain, flowery in the plain;
While genial Nature breathes from hill and dale
Health, fragrance, gladness, in the living gale,
The various softness stealing through the heart,
Impressions sweetly social will impart.
When sad Eudocia pours her hopeless woe
The tear of pity will unbidden flow!
When erring Phocyas, whom wild passions blind,
Holds up himself a mirror for mankind,
An equal eye on our own hearts we turn,
Where frailties lurk, where fond affections burn;
And conscious Nature is in all the same,
We mourn the guilty, while the guilt we blame!