Classic Poem

Now sets the sun in ocean's purple wave,
And sober evening from her misty throne
Enshrouds the sceptred prince, the shackled slave,
Contentment's smile, and sorrow's languid moan;
And now the soften'd radiance of the moon
To contemplation calls the truly wise.
O sons of nature, ask some glorious boon,
To win high wisdom, and to walk the skies:
Ask not the gilded shackles of the great,
Which cramp the genius, and the soul confine;
Ask not the Persian Sophy's high estate,
Nor the long glories of the Othman line;
But ask immortal Homer's matchless fire,
Or Pindar's eagle wing, and his sonorous lyre.