Classic Poem

WRITTEN AFTER PERUSING A PARAGRAPH RESPECTING THE MONUMENT RECENTLY ERECTED TO THE MEMORY OF BURNS .

I T is a well-known fact, that bards have ever,
From Homer downwards, lived upon their wits;
And though, no doubt, they always have been clever
At brandishing their knives and forks, tid bits
Of calipash or venison have never
Or seldom been reserved for them; and spits
With good roast joints not often have been turning
For them, men deem the beacon-lights of learning

Their's have been fame and flattery alone,
(But pudding is more nourishing than praise);
They've asked for bread, and oft received — a stone!
Living, have passed unheeded through the maze
Of a cold-hearted world: — their deaths once known,
The titled fool hath forward pressed to raise
Tombs o'er their ashes, that he thus might claim
One leaf of laurel for his paltry name.

Shades of the mighty dead! arise and say
How much ye scorn such mockery! — Stand forth,
Ye heirs of immortality! that they,
The proud, who deem nobility of birth
Surpasses rank of mind, no longer may
Cherish the weak delusion, but to worth
Yield, as becomes them, precedence — and learn
To honour those whom they were wont to spurn.

Match me among the Magnates of the world —
Those things of splendid nothingness — bright names,
Who, when the roll of glory is unfurled,
Upon posterity can shew much claims
As Milton, Shakspeare, Spenser. Those have hurled
Some fellow despots from their thrones, their aims
Still purchased but with blood; and they have made,
Their worship of the shadow of a shade;

But these, the Muses sons, have toiled to gain
Renown which could not profit them; — through years
Of unregarded poverty and pain, —
Slaves to their wild and passionate hopes and fears, —
Oh! how intensely did they strive to' attain
Fame that should be immortal; and the tears
Of blood their hearts have wept, have been repaid
With wreaths of laurel that can never fade!