Classic Poem

Ye Nymphs of Helicon, attend my lyre,
While all the feather'd Choristers conspire,
In notes celestial to salute the morn,
When Sylvia doth the nuptial rites adorn.
See Cupid's Sylphs, and Goddesses desoend;
Venus, and all her gentle train attend;
While ev'ry flagrant flow'r appears in bloom,
And minds most pensive dissipate their gloom.
All happy in this nuptial joy to share,
And each congratulates the happy pair.
The happy pair who lock'd in Hymen's bands,
United hearts, 'ere they united hands.

O RENZO'S heart, to martial fields enur'd,
Who all the hostile acts of war endur'd,
One tender look from Sylvia quite disarms;
But where's the bosom can withstand such charms?
When beauty, grace, and innocence combin'd,
T' inspire the soul, and captivate the mind.
Who proof remains, 'gainst cannons, balls, and fire,
May by one glance from Sylvia'S eyes expire.
Those lovely eyes emitted such a dart,
As made a conquest of O RENZA'S heart;
A noble conquest, worthy of the Fair,
Who in his future joys and grief will share.

How blest the swain, of such a bride possest!
The nymph ally'd to such a swain, how blest!
Long may you live,—connubial life adorn;
Yea, live to bless the children yet unborn;
Live,—and no other emulation know,
But who the greatest tenderness shall show:
And when fair Sylvia feels a mother's care,
May she a mother's consolation share;
May ev'ry tender branch that shall be giv'n,
Be fructify'd with all the gifts of Heav'n.

While Sylvia , who by good example's taught,
Whose mind is by maternal wisdom fraught,
With such instruction, as, pursu'd through life,
Will grace the mother and adorn the wife.
Fair Sylvia will, with notions most refin'd,
Direct their steps, and cultivate the mind.
O RENZO too, with a paternal heart,
Will all that's useful, kind, or good, impart.
Thus, with each joy, and social comfort blest,
Each morn they'll rise, and eve retire to rest.

Should duty, loyalty, or war's alarms,
Demand O RENZO from his Sylvia'S arms,
With rage redoubl'd, he'll engage the foe,
And sink them swiftly down to shades below;
Bid each the fatal consequences prove,
Who dares detain the hero from his love.
Thus conq'ring more by Cupid than by Mars,
Fly to his Fair triumphant from the wars;
Find in her virtuous arms that sweet repast,
Which lawless libertines can never taste;
Her ev'ry look shall joys sublime create,
And make a Paradise of his retreat.