Classic Poem

If Lady B — — will condescend
To read these lines which I have penn'd,
Perhaps it may her doubts confute,
And she'll no more my word dispute,
But own I may the Author be,
Of what she did on Sunday see.

You'd hate a base perfidious youth,
Such my disgust to all untruth.
A gen'rous mind is never prone
To claim a merit not her own:
I would disdain t' affix my name
To that, which is another's claim.
Of beaut'ous form Heav'n made me not,
(Nor has soft affluence been my lot,)
But fix'd me in an humbler station,
Than those at court in highest fashion:
But there are beauties of the mind,
Which are not to the great confin'd;
Wisdom does not erect her seat
Always in palaces of state;
This blessing Heav'n dispenses round,
She's sometimes in a cottage found,
And tho' she is a guest majestic,
May deign to dwell in a domestic.

Yet, of this great celestial guest,
I dare: not boast myself possest,
But this wou'd represent to you,
As Wisdom does, the Muses do,
No def'rence shew to wealth or ease,
But pay their visits as they please.
Sometimes they deign to call on me,
And tune my mind to poetry;
But ah! they're fled, I'll drop my pen,
Nor raise it till they call again.