TEXAS STATE LIBRARY
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And wait 'til I can mount again.- Behold me mounted on my steed. Now up the hill like lightning speed, O'er crags and stumps and bogs I go, The lessuing plain grows dim below, Old Aritato's Griffin horse Never winged so swift n course, Now swifter stiJl--5tilJ swifter flies, Hl' seems almost to cut tlie skies- .Aud now I've gained Parnassus height, O what a dear enchanting sight! 1'11 turn my flying horse to graze Whilst with enraptured view I gaze Upon the sons to genius dear Thnt animate this Heavenly sphere. Old Spencer here is to be seen Attended by a Fairy Quw~; In yonder distant cool retreat Young Thompson takes his happy seat, His M 11sidora in the stream I,; bathing near, but not unseen For Youthful Damon blissful Jover Doth nil her lo.tent charms discover. Old Vergil sl1akes his Dryden's hand, And Pope and Homer join the band, And hundred others here I find In dearest harmony combined. Bold Milton stands in awful state O'er all pre-eminently great; But sweet immortal Shakspcare, you \,ith gladsome heart I turn to view Dear fayorite of my early days Still, still I lo\·e to read thy lays For tl1ou art Natures darling child That warbles thy native wood-notes toild And when thy genius ranges round The world's for it to small a bound. Thou each passion cans't controul That actuates the human soul, Bid grief a joy alternate rise, Depress to Hell-exalt to skies. What stoic can restrain the laugl1, At the fat coward, ,Tack Falstaff, But when old Shylock treads the stage Each breast indignant swells with rage, To see despotic Richard draw His sword against his country's Jaw, And ride supremely on the heath Horribly bent on blood and death, Whnt heart is there to valour dear Feels not the freezing pang of fear, To hear Queen Knte for justice pleads, To view sweet Desdemona dead,
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Unhappy Juliet lying low Beside her hasty Romeo,
To hear Ophelia o're the Rurge Singing-alas her funeral dirge
And bold mad Hamlet swear and rave 1n mournful wildness o'er her grave, ls there a heart that will not bleed At scenes like these!-'tis hard indeed! What man iH there with torpid breast Loves not his native land the best,
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