THE POET 381
And Fate hath to the poet given A twofold immortality.
For, while with gods his spirit lives,
Men's tongues shall his loved strains prolong ;
Thus in two spheres the bard survives, Deathless alike in soul and song.
��THE POET.
Fourth Treatment.
a receipt for making one.
And wouldst thou join the immortal band That wake the lyre with master skill 1
Full many a bard, though bold of hand And light of touch and firm of will,
Hath failed to urge the magic strings
Beyond the clink of tinkling things !
Then first, ere thou begin, be sure That on thy hopes the muses smile ;
For, if thy love of song be pure,
Though thou wert wrecked on desert isle.
The tuneful shell would charm thine ear,
When none but savage beasts could hear.
Next, learn with reverent love to prize The lyre that Heaven hath briefly lent ;
He who to highest skill would rise Must not despise his instrument.
Hence perfect grew the immortal choirs,
Whom love of their own art inspires.
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