Classic Poem

Fain wou'd I court my weary muse,
Some portion of my debt to pay;
Perchance, the candour may excuse,
Which whilom has inspir'd my lay!

Oh thou! for whom fair Fancy's hand
The rosy chaplet shall decree,
For whom those precious flow'rs expand,
Which bloom more faint, perhaps for me!

L UCIUS ! 'tis strange thou shou'dst not please!
Such flatt'ring verses who can bear?
Not she, who trembling, now foresees
The terrors of a rival there.

Then how shall verse my thanks explain?
Since flatt'ry in such lays I view,
I see so much to make me vain—
And much to make me modest too!