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Poems on several occasions

By William Broome ... The second edition, With large Alterations and Additions
 
 

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Poverty and Poetry.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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139

Poverty and Poetry.

'Twas sung of old how one Amphion,
Could by his Verses tame a Lion;
And by his strange enchanting Tunes,
Make Bears or Wolves dance Rigadoons:
His Songs could call the Timber down,
And form it into House or Town;
But it is plain that in these times
No House is rais'd by Poets Rhimes;
They for themselves can only rear
A few wild Castles in the Air;
Poor are the Brethren of the Bays,
Down from high Strains, to Ekes and Ayes.

140

The Muses too are Virgins yet,
And may be—till they Portions get.
Yet still the doating Rhimer dreams,
And sings of Helicon's bright Streams,
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields only uninspiring Water;
Yet ev'n athirst he sweetly sings
Of Nectar, and Elysian Springs.
What dire malignant Planet sheds,
Ye Bards, his Influence on your Heads?
Lawyers, by endless Controversies,
Consume unthinking Clients Purses,
As Pharaoh's Kine, which strange and odd is,
Devour'd the plump and well-fed Bodies.

141

The grave Physician, who by Physic,
Like Death, dispatches him that is sick,
Pursues a sure and thriving Trade,
Tho' Patients die, the Doctor's paid;
Licens'd to kill, he gains a Palace,
For what another mounts the Gallows.
In shady Groves the Muses stray,
And love in flow'ry Meads to play;
An idle Crew! whose only Trade is
To shine in Trifles, like our Ladies;
In dressing, dancing, toying, singing,
While wiser Pallas thrives by spinning;
Thus they gain nothing to bequeath
Their Vot'ries, but a Laurel Wreath.

142

But Love rewards the Bard! the Fair
Attend his Song, and ease his Care:
Alas! fond Youth, your Plea you urge ill
Without a Jointure, tho' a Virgil;
Could you like Phœbus sing, in vain
You nobly swell the lofty Strain,
Coy Daphne flies, and you will find as
Hard Hearts as hers in your Belindas.
But then some say you purchase Fame,
And gain that envy'd Prize, a Name;
Great Recompense! like his who sells
A Diamond, for Beads and Bells;
Will Fame be thought sufficient Bail
To keep the Poet from the Jayl?

143

Thus the brave Soldier, in the Wars,
Gets empty Praise, and aking Scars:
Is paid with Fame and wooden Legs,
And starv'd, the glorious Vagrant begs.