Classic Poem

Though Wölf, in hypercritic zeal, insists
On breaking up that old Ionian harp,
And parcels out to many melodists
The Chian's lonely fame,—he cannot warp
Our common sense, pervert our natural taste;
Great Aristotle, and that warrior-youth
Of old, held simpler views of Epic truth;
Master and pupil felt his unity;
And, when the monarch in his casket placed
The roll, the verdict of a world he took:
In truth, a plural Homer cannot be!
One Muse maintains the quarrels and the loves
One ardent voice, like Heaven-sent Ossa, moves
The war from fight to fight, from book to book.