POESY.
Before the human hand a stylus held,
Ere papyrus’ or parchment’s mute appeal,
Sweet songs were sung whose echoes charm us still;
From dying lips undying music welled.
Wedded to strains from chosen souls that swelled,
Were rescued from oblivion’s clammy seal,
Fantastic legend, laws of commonweal,
Heroic deeds in days of hoary eld.
Muse of the lyre and harp, till latest day
Thy voice shall bear along the shores of Time,
While kingdoms crumble, and while tongues decay,
The numbers of the ancient bards sublime.
Still thy anointed favorites hold their sway,
’Mid falling stars, and gods that pass away.