Classic Poem

Tho you have stop'd the muses tongue
And broke her lute her harp unstrung
By frowning on her lay
Yet the deep Sigh assumes the strain
Of plaintive notes to sooth my pain
And find it self a way. —
It prompts the much acknowledg'd truth
That State nor place nor age nor youth
Can all our wishes crown
The sighing heart in deepest shades
Proves to the mind that grief invades
The Cottage and the throne. —
Nor can the chearful mein declare
The bosom free from pining care
While blasted Joys recur
And like the canker in the bud
Preys ruthless on the vital flood
Till health is known no more
For me I try in vain the art
Of Musics power to heal the heart
The mazy dance in vain
The lighted room the graceful fair
With all the various movements here
Is only change of pain. —
I sigh because my mentors gone
And wit and elegance have flown
And attic ease and fire
I look among the powder'd beaux
And Say t'were vain to think that those
Could Chearfulness inspire. —
But candour breathes the enlivning thought
And tells me that I surely ought
To think you may approve —
Tho youth and bloom will soon recede
My truth may in your bosom plead
And you not cease to love. —