Classic Poem

'Tis wretched in earnest to live like a mope,
Nor wash down chagrin with sweet wine;
To yield to an uncle all spirit and hope,
Who rails at your pleasures and mine.
The charms of young Hebrus, and love's flying boy,
Have stol'n your work-basket away,
And all that fine tap'stry that us'd to employ,
And give to Minerva the day.
This gay Liparean's a notable knight,
Bellerophon's self he may seem,
Not beat in the battle, or match'd in the flight,
When fresh from the cruse and the stream.
The same in each motion's as clean as a cat,
To hurl at the deer in the park,
Thro' bushes and shrubs the wild-boar can come at,
And his quickness ne'er misses the mark.