Classic Poem

Swift , Sandy, Young, and Gay,
Are still my heart's delight,
I sing their sangs by day,
And read their tales at night.
If frae their books I be,
'Tis dullness then with me;
But when these stars appear,
Jokes, smiles, and wit shine clear.

Swift, with uncommon stile,
And wit that flows with ease,
Instructs us with a smile,
And never fails to please.
Bright Sandy greatly sings
Of heroes, gods, and kings:
He well deserves the bays,
And ev'ry Briton's praise.

While thus our Homer shines;
Young, with Horacian flame,
Corrects these false designs
We push in love of fame.
Blyth Gay, in pawky strains,
Makes villains, clowns, and swains
Reprove, with biting leer,
Those in a higher sphere.

Swift, Sandy, Young, and Gay,
Long may you give delight;
Let all the dunces bray,
You 're far above their spite:
Such, from a malice sour,
Write nonsense, lame and poor,
Which never can succeed,
For who the trash will read?