Classic Poem

Where grac'd with many a classic spoil
Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
I haste to urge the learned toil
That sternly chides my love-lorn song:
Ah me! too mindful of the days
Illum'd by Passion's orient rays,
When Peace, and Chearfulness, and Health
Enrich'd me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul
On Mem'ry's wing, like shadows, fly!
Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by!--
But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan.
Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crown'd,
And scatter livelier roses round.

The Sun, who ne'er remits his fires
On heedless eyes may pour the day:
The Moon, that oft from Heav'n retires,
Endears her renovated ray.
What tho' she leave the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely Light,
We bless the Wanderer of the Night.