THE POET 2)77
The cheerful lyre was lent thee but to bless ; Why add new pangs to human wretchedness ?
Nay ! Had the bard this calling only,
To make dull days more dark appear, And cheerless solitudes more lonely,
And dreary prospects doubly drear, I'd fly the Muses and their dark-draped halls For blithe Silenus and his bacchanals.
Since time is brief, let man enjoy ;
The wise disdain the sullen mood. Waits Evil, watching to destroy .
Let us o'ercome him, then, with good, And leave the bad to frown through life's fair day, Or waste in moping the swift hours away.
Ope not thy lips, sad child of song !
I know what answer thou wilt make ; Thou'lt say, the sight of ceaseless wrong
Bids thee lament for others' sake. Because, the wide world through, thine eyes can see No spot unsoiled by crime and misery ;
That in the strife for wealth and power
The worst must still triumphant be ; That Virtue lives so brief an hour,
While Guilt a lengthened date doth see. Sad fool I Forbear thy melancholy rhyme ; Good cannot find an enemy in Time, —
Who hath no temper of his own,
But from our thoughts each mood derives.
Be sure all reap as they have sown, In fruits of good or evil lives ;
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