Friendship poems/ page 7 of 65 /
What blooming garlands shall the Muses twine,
What verdant laurels weave, what flowers combine,
While orient skies restore the day,
And dew-drops catch the lucid ray;
Amid the sprightly scenes of morn
Will aught the Muse inspire?
Oh! peace to yonder clamorous horn
That drowns the sacred lyre!
Of chance or change O let not man complain,
Else shall he never never cease to wail:
For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,
Like an old Druid from his hollow oak,
As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,
"Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!"
Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach,
Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach.
My name is Water: I have sped
Through strange, dark ways, untried before,
By pure desire of friendship led,
He sends four royal gifts by me:
Long life, health, peace, and purity.
Oh! just avenging Heaven! [aside.