Classic Poem

Could I, arch youth, your flatt'ring lines believe,
Were not your sex too subject to deceive,
I, like a credulous, unthinking maid,
Might be to thoughts of vanity betray'd;
But, conscious my dull pipe no merit claims,
My soul, like a stern oak, unmov'd remains.
Were I assur'd that what those lines impart
Was quite the genuine language of your heart,
It surely would demonstrate a defect;
Which in my friend I wish not to detect.
Your sense and judgment 'twould at once decry,
And prove you praise you know not what nor why.
But I esteem your sense and penetration,
And thus conclude, from that consideration,
That all th' encomiums you on me bestow,
I to your skill in irony must owe;
Your sex are quite proficients in this school,
And may elate the vain unwary fool.

While I good-nature in my friend admire;
While grace and perspicuity conspire
To make him all a parent can desire,
Yet would I say, as to the friend I love,
For none so good, but he may still improve.
Would you be thought a pleasing hopeful youth,
Let all you write or speak be grac'd with truth,
Truth with resplendent lustre shews her face,
While falshood skulks, and sinks in black disgrace.
As you advance in years, in virtue grow,
So shall you her transcendant blessings know.
Virtue and wisdom are entwined friends;
Who virtue gains, true wisdom apprehends;
Heav'n guards his feet and peace his steps attends.