Classic Poem

Gentle, Idle, Trifling Boy!
Talk of Pleasures, talk of Joy;
Well you paint the Crystal Spring,
Well the flow'ry Meadow sing.
But beware! with bolder Flight
Tempt not Heaven's unequal Height!
But beware! with impious Strain,
Mock not thus the Patriot Train!
Sacred, here, O! ever be
Heaven, and Heaven-born Liberty!

 Let the Slaves of lawless Sway,
Let the stupid Flock obey!
Pent within a narrow Fold,
Ty'd, and stript, and slain, and sold.
Happier Stars the Brave attend,
Britons know a nobler End.
Theirs it is to temper Laws,
Theirs to watch in Freedom's Cause,
Theirs one common Good to share,
Theirs to feel one common Care;
In the Glorious Task combin'd,
From the Monarch to the Hind.

 Yet, O cease not, gentle Boy!
Sing of Pleasures, sing of Joy!
Strains like thine make Wisdom smile,
Such may sooth the Patriot's Toil.
Trifles which vain Wits despise,
Often please the truly Wise.