Classic Poem

Friend to the Muse, by ev'ry Muse admir'd,
Whose potent harmony thy bosom fir'd;
Whether in pastoral strains thou deign'st to rove,
Or dwell'st on Hagley's charms, or Lucy's love;
Or in Miltonic lays thy numbers flow,
Sweetly majestic, musically slow;
Or where the Historian's page, with brow severe,
Thy ardour swells, and Truth demands thy care;
Still, L YTTELTON , unspoil'd, undeck'd by state,
And all the mean atchievements of the Great!
Like Phosphorus thou beam'st a certain day,
And shed'st on fainter orbs thy chearing ray:
Charm'd by thy light, a little meteor dares
To mount the skies, and mix among the stars;
There should thy radiant beams their light diffuse,
And from oblivion snatch th' aspiring Muse,
Bless'd by thy smile, by that secur'd of fame,
Thou, L YTTELTON , the Verse—the Muse should'st claim.