Written in the blank leaf of a manuscript Book,
WHICH CONTAINED HIS POEMS.
In life’s gay morn, in Circe’s frolic train,
Health to the youth who shunn’d their tempting harms;
Scorn’d his pure mind, and plighted faith, to stain
With bowls inebriate, and with venal charms!
And led the muse, where muses seldom rove,
Where rudely clang’d Bellona’s gore-stain’d shield;
Sweet is the moral song, the lays of love
That wak’d, and warbled o’er the tented field.
For thee, ’mid prouder laurels of the war,
Long may the bays their classic odours breathe!
And the gay Goddess of the morning star,
Twine the soft myrtle, and complete the wreath!
For thee, th’ impervious cloud again prepare,
That veil’d her Paris on Scamander’s plain;
So, ’mid the volleying thunders of the war,
Round thee its thousand bolts shall fly in vain.
Yet, while the soft suffusion shields thy brow,
A fate unlike the Trojan’s may’st thou prove,
Win the proud trophy from the flying foe,
And live to Glory, while thou liv’st to Love!