Classic Poem

Expell'd th' assembly! 'twas discreetly done!
Could the torch shine, but where it miss'd the sun?
Wisely, the old and ugly , shun compare ,
Nor prune their with'ring barks , against the fair!
You gone, they glean a cold respect , undue,
But drop their plunder'd sheaves , at sight of you.
So, the shock'd Indian , conscious of his face ,
Broke the bright glass , to hide his own disgrace .
Smile, un-revengeful, leave their pride forlorn,
And mix some pity , with the public scorn .
'Twere hard, to clip the starver's stinted shares,
No—let the balm of envy still be theirs .
Leave 'em the needful pow'r , to hate their bane ,
And shun those eyes , by which they wish, in vain.
Nature indulg'd a self-defence to all;
For that, she gave the dry'd old maid , her gall ;
For that, long vipers wind their hiss along,
And, but for that, th' assembly mourns your wrong .