Page:Vida's Art of Poetry.djvu/126

And show'd the tuneful muses from afar,
Mixt in a solemn choir and dancing there.
Thither forbidden by the fates to go,
I sink and grovel in the world below.
Deter'd by them, in vain I labour up,
And stretch these hands to grasp the distant top.
Enough for me, at distance if I view
Some bard, some happier bard the path pursue;
Who, taught by me to reach Parnassus' crown,
Mounts up, and calls his slow companions on.
But yet these rules, perhaps, these humble lays,
May claim a title to a share of praise;
When, in a crowd, the gath'ring youth shall hear
My voice and precepts with a willing ear;
Close in a ring shall press the list'ning throng,
And learn from me to regulate their song.
Then, if the pitying Fates prolong my breath,
And from my youth avert the dart of death;
Whene'er I sink in life's declining stage,
Trembling and fainting on the verge of age,
To help their wearied master shall they run,
And lend their friendly hands to guide him on;

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