Classic Poem

INSCRIBED TO MR. — — — .

I.

Hail Poetry! thy powerful lay
Alike all hear, alike obey;
To thee belong our mirth, our tears,
To raise to rapture, sink with fears.
'Tis thou the rudest canst inspire
With strains that e'en the learn'd admire.
Thy voice is heard, confest thy sway,
Wide as the rise of morn, and setting of the day.

II.

Hail, sent to earth, thou heavenly Maid!
The ills of life to chear and aid.
From dreary plains, and wintry skies,
To fairer scenes thou turn'st our eyes.
With thee the sky is always clear;
And ever-green thy fields appear:
Forgetful of its cares, the soul
To sweet illusion yields, and owns thy soft controul.

III.

To verdant plains and flow'ry meads
The gentle Muse of Past'ral leads,
Where ev'ry breeze with fragrance blows,
Where ev'ry stream in murmurs flows;
There singing, as their flocks they keep,
The swains and virgins tend their sheep;
There, free from care, content they prove,
Secure the peaceful bliss of innocence and love.

IV.

Wine, Love's more sprightly joys, inspire
The Muse who regulates the lyre;
Or, rising to sublimer lays,
She celebrates the hero's praise;
Now gentle, smooth, and sweet she flows,
Now ardent and impetuous glows;
Now graceful plays in under-sky,
Now boldly spurns the ground, and wings her flight on high.

V.

Its sadly pleasing themes, the Muse
Of plaintive elegy pursues:
The exile weeps his native shore,
Which he must never visit more;
Deploring absence, or disdain,
Unhappy lovers sigh their pain;
On youth and beauty's early urn,
Truelove, affection warm, and holy friendship mourn.

VI.

But to the Epic Muse belong
The highest honours of the song:
'Tis hers to sing in lofty strains
The glorious deeds of martial plains;
'Tis hers upon the warrior's tomb
To bid unfading laurels bloom;
'Tis hers to give the gen'rous meed,
For which the heroes toil, for which the heroes bleed.