Classic Poem

Ah! what avails it with adventurous pace
 To scale, fair Poesy, thy heights sublime?
 Though many a flower adorn the fragrant clime,
 Oft chilling storms with envious blast deface
Each opening bloom: meanwhile with lifted mace
 High on the mountain's brow, in garb obscene,
 Sits Want , a Spectre pale, whose threatening mien
 Oft drives the Bard to quit th' unfinish'd race:
Yet nobler Some, undaunt'd at his frown,
 Up the steep hill have trod the rugged way;
 Such sung the Redcross Knight, the Trojan Town,
Brave Gama's toils, and Salem's bloody fray;
 Such too, with harder fate, tho' like renown,
 Great Ella's Minstrel pour'd his deathless lay.