Classic Poem

Such were the dames of old heroic days
Which faithful story yet delights to praise;
Who, great in useful works, hung o'er the loom,
The mighty mothers of immortal Rome,
Obscure, in sober dignity retir'd
They more deservd, than sought to be admir'd:
The household virtues o'er their honour'd head
Their simple grace, and modest lustre shed;
Chaste their attire, their feet unus'd to roam[,]
They lov'd the sacred threshold of their home,
Yet, true to glory, fan'd the generous flame,
Bade lovers, brothers, sons aspire to fame;
In the young bosom cherish'd virtue's seed,
The secret springs of many a godlike deed!
So the fair stream in some sequester'd glade,
With lowly state glides silent thro the shade,
Yet by the smiling meads her urn is blest;
With freshest flowers her rising banks are drest;
And groves of laurel, by her sweetness fed,
High o'er the forest lift their verdant head[.]