Classic Poem

Child of the Muses, art thou fled
To the far Mansions of the Dead;
Hast Thou the via sacra trod,
And view'd the Majesty of GOD
Pierc'd the bland Realms of Heav'n's Domain,
And flitted through the starry Plain;
Beyond the glorious Orb of Light,
Wing'd through the finer Void thy Flight,
To that eternal fulgent Seat,
Where the bright-sainted Mortals meet! —

Oh — D ELLA C RUSCA — Shade Divine,
Breathe thy pure Spirit on the Line;
Teach Me to grace thy magic Lyre,
Like Thee to charm the silver Wire;
Then on the list'ning Air shall float,
The trilling Music of each Note;
Attendant Seraphs waft the Lay
Of thy high Fame to endless Day:
Thy Genius with the Glories twine,
And the sweet Harp of Heav'n to Thee resign

Wild Fancy , who, on flights sublime,
Disdains the narrow Bounds of Rhyme;
Who, soaring on the rapt'rous Thought,
Oft in the wily Maze is caught;
Whether on Clouds of stormy Night,
Or from the sharp Rock's dizzy Height,
Thou gazest on the Blast severe,
And o'er the Tempest shedst a Tear:
Or, if within the Arctic's Gloom,
Thou musest o'er a frozen Tomb;

Where Winter on her polar Throne,
Still petrifies her Seas to Stone;
Contemns the Sun's far distant Ray,
And mocks the lustrous Lamp of Day: —
Where ere thou art — oh, hither haste,
With Me and tread the silent Waste;
Thy Fav'rite — the British Muse ,
No more will brush the Morning's Dews;
Death sped the parting Shaft that gave
Thy D ELLA C RUSCA to the laurel Grave!

Pure Taste now, with thy classic Train,
Approach the Muse's sapphire Fane;
With Sprigs of Yew their Temples bind,
And fling thy Myrtle on the Wind;
The Bust of Poetry adorn,
With Bay-leaf and the dropping Thorn. —
Bright Genius too thy Fervor show,
And dim thine eagle Eye with Woe;
With Poppies deck thy golden Hair,
And scowl upon the Fiend Despair;

Then hie Thee to the secret Glade,
Where Cypress weaves a gloomy Shade: —
Chaste Learning quit thy calm Recess,
Thy D ELLA C RUSCA'S Urn caress;
The Boon with sacred Ivy twine,
And stain it with Regret divine;
With Sorrow's Spells, and sad Delight,
Invoke the mourning Bird of Night;
While I, with wild and trembling Verse,
Will deck the Plumes of D ELLA C RUSCA 's Hearse!