Classic Poem

I.

Charmer! no more, by partial friendship led,
To humble themes, mis-tune thy heav'nly lyre!
Wide as the poles, thy sweeping pinions spread,
And soar to subjects, worthy of thy fire !

II.

C HAIN'D short, by fortune , I, unwing'd , remain,
A fruitless meaner, far beneath thy praise:
Warm'd , by thy heat, I poorly wish, in vain,
For means, to fan thy earth-enlight'ning blaze.

III.

O! were the world not deaf , and fortune blind ,
How wou'd thy joy-drest muse , encourag'd, shine !
How wou'd the gen'ral chorus of mankind,
To prove their wit, concur, in praising thine .

IV.

I F poets prophets are, the time shall be,
When I, by means unguess'd, shall reach the pow'r,
To stretch the world's eye wide, thy muse to see,
With star-bent flight, like some new Juno , tow'r.

V.

Mean while, what other theme deserves thy pen,
But death-edg'd satire , on this stupid age?
Where poetry, un-nerv'd, in worthless men,
Has giv'n a woman all Apollo 's rage!