Classic Poem

Forbid it, heav'n! that e'er I eat
The bread of craftiness and wrong.
A curse would poison all my meat,
As fatal as the viper's tongue.

I ne'er will raise a poor man's sigh,
His hire shall never swell my store.
I dread the poor man's plaintive cry,
I fear the father of the poor.

If I in darkness (base misdeed!)
Assassinate my neighbour's fame;
By me if innocency bleed,
Cancel from earth my hated name.

Ah! no; let me with strong delight
To all the tax of duty pay;
Tender of every social right,
Revering thy all-righteous sway.

Such virtue thou wilt ne'er forget,
In worlds where every virtue shares
High recompence; though not of debt,
But which thy bounteous grace prepares.