POETRY. 997 



Thou canst not tread, ('twere sorrow vain) 

 The tedious path of lowly gain ; 

 Yet proudly shall thy jealous mind ; 

 Repel the aid of bounty kind ; 

 Friem'ship in vain shall o'er thee bend, 

 Nor know to counsel or defend ; 

 E'en they, who lovo the muse's lyre, 

 Shall from thy helpless woes retire. 



Wayward and lone, tlie nectar'd bowl 

 Gives thee the trance of soft control, 

 The pause from care, the rest from pain, 

 Which hapless thought no more can gain: 

 — But on thy waking eyes shall glare 

 Disease, and anguish, and despair, 

 And poverty Avith squalid mein 

 And feeble cry, shall close the sccne- 



Who then shall for thy genius feel, 

 Thy virtues rouse, thy spirit heal ? 

 Dulness shall see thy vessel torn, 

 And safe on shore shall smile in scorn ; 

 The world, that loved to hear thy woe 

 Melodious in thy numbers flow. 

 Shall careless from thy misery turn, 

 Nor further seek thy griefs to learn. 



In vain by thee this world unkind 



It charmed, instructed, an • redned ; 



It leaves thee by thy wort.i alone 



To build an happiness thine own ; 



And sunk in ruins shall expire < 



The mind that winged the song with fire, 



Tho' still the song may live to fame, 



And guard the hapless poet's name. 



Why draining deep the poison'd bowl, 

 With flashing eye, and bursting soul, 

 Ah ! why did Chatterton exiiirc, 

 — He struck the muse's fatal lyre — 

 What heart but felt his powerful sway, 

 Who mourned o'er Auburn swept away ! 

 But what the meed which genius gave ? 

 A life enslaved — ^an early grave. 



And he whose voice of Jaffier sung, 

 And he, whose harp tiic passions struBg, 



3 S 3 And 



