Classic Poem

Sweet Mistress of the tuneful art,
Muse! dearest fav'rite of my heart,
Companion of my earliest day,
Thou guide, inspirer of my lay:
Soon as my childhood learn'd to feel,
Thou fir'dst me with a poet's zeal,
My infant breast thou taughtst to glow,
My lisping tongue in numbers flow.
Thou bad'st my face to nature true
Whate'er I felt unfold to view;
And at the deeds of heroes bold,
And fate of hapless lovers, told,
Or flush'd with gen'rous warmth appear,
Or moisten'd with a tender tear.
Thou bad'st my youthful bosom prove
Th'alternate sweets and pains of love,
To passion's honest tide give way
And pour my soul in artless lay.
If ever thou to me wert dear,
If ought I've sung that thou mightst hear,
If I have left the crouded way
With thee in lonely paths to stray;
If I've thy favour wish'd to share,
And giv'n thee ought of time and care;
If tedious nights and days I've toil'd,
My weariness by thee beguil'd;
And more than fortune's gifts, or ease,
Thou couldst my youthful fancy please;—
Grant this,—My life with honour crown,
And give my death deserv'd renown.