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the poet's fate.
Bless with bright visions thy declining hour,
And on thy closing ears her heavenly accents pour?
And on thy closing ears her heavenly accents pour?
Or will she, should neglect thy bosom rend,
From thy dim eye forbid the tear to flow,
Teach thee, unmov'd, to meet each alien friend,
And bid thee smile on Memory's hoarded woe?
Will air-built castles yield thy homeless form
Rest from perturbing cares, and shelter from the storm?
From thy dim eye forbid the tear to flow,
Teach thee, unmov'd, to meet each alien friend,
And bid thee smile on Memory's hoarded woe?
Will air-built castles yield thy homeless form
Rest from perturbing cares, and shelter from the storm?
How wilt thou bear, when Folly's ideot smile
Shall coldly mark thee for the vulgar scorn;
And sneering, thank indulgent Heav'n the while
That genius beam'd not on her natal morn;
But worldly thrift a glimmering light supplied,
She hail'd the taper's gleam—and took it for her guide?
Shall coldly mark thee for the vulgar scorn;
And sneering, thank indulgent Heav'n the while
That genius beam'd not on her natal morn;
But worldly thrift a glimmering light supplied,
She hail'd the taper's gleam—and took it for her guide?
Whilst thou, poor Bard, the Muse's luckless child,
In evil hour a dazzling track pursued,
In evil hour a dazzling track pursued,
