Classic Poem

For a song, or a dance, over all the gay plain,
Young Damon was justly esteem'd the best swain;
Yet a great imperfection his mind had impress'd,
He thought beauty a trifle and love but a jest.

As often young Collin to him wou'd repair,
And sighing relate all his anguish and care;
He laugh'd at his folly, and said from his breast,
He thought beauty a trifle, and love but a jest.

Sly Cupid determin'd to take down his pride,
Who impiously dar'd sacred love to deride;
An arrow well aim'd sent twang at his breast,
To prove beauty no trifle, and love was no jest.

Now he sighs for a nymph, who flies his embrace,
He's the scorn of the fair, and the jest of the place;
Who archly repeat tho' they see him distrest,
" Pshaw! beauty's a trifle, and love's but a jest. "

Be warn'd, oh! ye swains, Damon's fate lest you share,
For beauty's bright goddess such treatment won't bear;
For heroes and princes, this truth have confest,
That beauty's no trifle, and love is no jest.