Classic Poem

Genius , and W ORTH , the other day,
By fortune, met upon their way,
And while they wip'd the falling tear,
Thus spoke, in sympathy sincere.
" In vain the lovely Muse inspires,
In vain, she fans her purest fires;
In vain, most amiably gay,
Wildly, forms the sportive lay;
With H ONOUR'S ardent dictate burns,
Or, in majestic sorrow mourns;
No P ATRON views her song with smiles,
No promis'd bliss her care beguiles;
No tuneful pomp of brave renown,
Marks highly her melodious son;
No laurel-wreath his brow adorns,
No laurel! — but a wreath of thorns;
Not even his thoughts sublime, can grace
The hapless Poet with a place ,
Tho' plodding Wealth 'mid roses lies,
And feeds on gold his doating eyes;
Not all the joy, his labours lend,
Can gain one real, gen'rous friend;
Not " — — quick on his golden throne above,
Thus thunder'd forth Imperial J OVE :
" H ERMES , that wretch repining bring,
Who poisons H OPE'S ambrosian spring
With doubts and fears, — I'll change his story,
And make him own the fool before ye. "
Swift M ERC'RY bow'd, and quick convey'd
The pensive mourners from the shade,
While with a frown of wrath sublime,
J OVE tax'd them for so bold a crime:
" Say, why so sad, unlucky pair,
Why sunk beneath this load of care;
Why look for patronage in vain,
Or why, of partial Fate, complain?
Can you, a moment, ling'ring stand,
While B OUNTY points to W ESTMORELAND !
Whose genial favor soon shall shine,
And make Life's path of pleasure thine;
See, where S HE sits in beauteous pride,
Dispensing good on ev'ry side;
Checking pale Sorrow's languid sigh,
Clearing Despair's o'er-clouded eye;
Raising the noble soul from Earth, — — "
" I own thy words are true! " said W ORTH ;
" I own it too, " Genius reply'd,
" And on her tender heart rely'd,
Shall pen J OVE'S candid judgment down, — — "
He said, and hasted up to town:
And on mature, and sage reflexion,
Lays the whole tale to your inspection.
O! may it meet but some success,
— — 'Tis mine to wish, 'tis YOUR'S to bless!