Classic Poem

I.

S WEET Muse, to whose protecting shrine,
Driv'n by the spectre Care, I flee,
When oft, at busy days decline,
I sigh for leisure and for thee;
Say, in earth's habitable round,
Can perfect happiness be found,
Proportion'd to the craving soul?
If still beneath the solar road
Bright Independence makes abode,
Her's is this perfect bliss, this joy without controul.

II.

Nymph, 'tis thy animating voice
That wakes the springs of latent worth;
In thee the savage tribes rejoice;
The polish'd nations of the earth
Caught, at thy shrine, the sacred flame,
Which led to liberty and fame
The Grecian and the Roman arms,
When Kings, with unenlighten'd pride,
The native rights of man defied,
When rapine stalk'd on earth, and fill'd it with alarms.

III.

Who on the labours of the Muse
Impassion'd energy bestows?
Whose inspiration can dissuse
The warmth with which the patriot glows?
Oh, thou; the theme of many a bard,
By sages woo'd with fond regard,
In every vein a good supreme!
Without thee, weak is Virtue's arm;
Feeble is Wisdom's hope to charm;
Nor yet must timid Truth display her radiant beam.

IV.

Thy favour'd vot'ries do not fear
The scorns which wealth will oft bestow;
Nor need they hide th' indignant tear,
Stern obligation forc'd to slow.
Degrading flattery does not soil
The lip o'er which thy chearful smile
Diffuses a becoming pride.
Nor will their hearts pretend to feel
The hurry of officious zeal,
Nor the cold civil wish, that hopes to be denied.

V.

These still with manly ease avow
The genuine impulse of the soul;
To Nature's shrine alone they bow,
Obedient but to her controul.
Fastidious tastes, capricious laws,
The cant of censure and applause,
Claim'd by the fashion of the day,
Their minds with noble freedom spurn;
For merit, and for truth they burn,
And in their search employ unclouded Reason's ray.

VI.

Such are the characters, who prove
To what our nature can aspire,
Who feel the dignity of love,
And friendship's never failing fire,
Who in each state, to duty just,
Perform the delegated trust,
Guided by honour's radiant star.
Regardless tho' the vulgar blame;
Proof to the dangerous charms of fame,
Their hopes and fears revere a doom more awful far.