2
He that cou'd write—cou'd soften, and subdue,
May paint the feelings that he never knew!
May trace the hero's path to virtuous fame,
Yet live the slave of avarice and of shame:
E'en treach'rous views, perhaps, his mind employ,
And his heart triumphs with malignant joy!
May paint the feelings that he never knew!
May trace the hero's path to virtuous fame,
Yet live the slave of avarice and of shame:
E'en treach'rous views, perhaps, his mind employ,
And his heart triumphs with malignant joy!
But thou!—Oh gentlest Spirit of thy kind!
Whose pow'rs can waken, and exalt the mind;
Can plead for mercy, in so soft a strain,
That ranc'rous envy might oppose in vain—
To patient candour lend such charms to win,
E'en calumny itself might take her in,
Thou! that hast feeling, with peculiar art,
To touch each spring that vibrates on the heart!
Thou! that hast learnt, with true and genuine taste,
To cull each flow'r that decks the barren waste;
And many an humble plant, wou'd save with care,
Whose pow'rs can waken, and exalt the mind;
Can plead for mercy, in so soft a strain,
That ranc'rous envy might oppose in vain—
To patient candour lend such charms to win,
E'en calumny itself might take her in,
Thou! that hast feeling, with peculiar art,
To touch each spring that vibrates on the heart!
Thou! that hast learnt, with true and genuine taste,
To cull each flow'r that decks the barren waste;
And many an humble plant, wou'd save with care,
