University of Virginia Library

HORACE'S GHOST.

(A DEDICATION.)

Gentle reader—patron mine—
Born of old and patient line,
Some with eager zest embrace
Glories of the field and chase;
Covet these the athlete's prize,
Guerdon meet in lady's eyes;
Those, Ambition's clarion calls
To the Commons' storied halls,
Heart and Will by Fancy set
On the star and coronet;
Battle some for golden gain,
Garners stored with Indian grain;
Him, the wealth Golconda yields
Tempts not from his father's fields,
On a sea-bound bark to roam
From the safety of his home;
While another courts in vain
Dull repose from wind and main,
Praising Ease—to test anew
Fragile freight and careless crew:
Some the wine-cup's vigils keep;
Some in busy daylight sleep
By the crystal fountain's sheen,
Or beneath the covert green;
Blithe the soldier springs to arms,
Vainly Beauty woos and charms,
When the boar and tiger near
Tempt the hunter's gun and spear.
Godlike all our pleasures be,
For the Lords of Earth are we.
Ivied Muse of frolic song,
Set me 'mid thy joyous throng;
Do not all thy smiles deny
To thy constant votary!
Let me win the lowest place
In thy dear and winsome grace;—
Happy then, and passion-free,
Earth has naught to offer me.