Classic Poem

Deigns then Æmilia, Fav'rite of the Nine
Kindly t' accept such mean attempts as mine
Hears She well-pleas'd a rustic Shepherd's Lays,
Nor thinks herself dishonour'd by his Praise
And oh! still farther does She condescend,
And will Æmilia be Palemon's Friend?
Charm'd with the Thought with Joy my Bosom grows
Gay prospects rise & splendid Scenes disclose;
My gratefull Heart beats high within my Breast
With Tender Passions not to be express'd;
Transported by the Soul-felt bliss, I cry,
" What rural Swain is happier now than I?
For such a Favour, dear Æmilia say
What Price shall one too much oblig'd repay? —
— Be this th' Award, tho' vastly more is due,
" Palemon's Heart shall be Æmilia's too.
But by the Friendship of so mean a Swain
Alas! What Glory can Æmilia gain?
Why will you value thus my worthless Lays
Mine, lovely Virgin, is but vulgar Praise:
Your Praises are an equal Theme alone
For Numbers sweet & lofty as your own.
Dull is my Genius, languid are my Fires;
But your warm Bosom every Muse inspires.
Tho' twice eight Years beneath Apollo's Care
I've liv'd retir'd & drawn Parnassian Air;
Tho' Oft I've heard the tunefull Sisters sing
And often tasted the Castalian Spring;
Yet unharmonious is my stamm'ring Tongue
Uncouth my Voice & uninspir'd my Song.
But you're more favour'd in the lonely Vale
Than I where Phoebus & the Muses dwell,
Oft are you honour'd, in your calm abode,
By the kind Presence of th' inspiring God.
Urania too with your Request complies
And makes you frequent Visits from the Skies
By them dictated how your Numbers flow
As thunder loud or still as falling Snow!
By them inspir'd oh how your Soul by turns
Or melts with Pathos or with ardor burns!
While I unconscious of the gen'rous Flame
Blush overwhelm'd with Self-contempt & Shame.
But do I envy? — imitate your Foes? —
No; Sacred Friendship no such Passion knows:
At your superior Worth I'll ne'er repine,
To grace your Brows my Laurel I resign,
Tho' I'm eclips'd, let fair Æmilia shine!