ABSTRACT
ORACLE, October 7, 1791 The dusky veil of Night was thrown O'er the flush'd forehead of the West, When thy soft harp's melodious tone Rous'd the faint tenant of my breast;5 A glow of joy my cheek o'erspread; The classic page I scarce could see, For Pride my raptur'd fancy led To learn the lesson taught by thee. 5 Yes, Julius, when the pensive breast, Sick of life's gaudy fev'rish dream, 10 Courts the cool hour of mental rest, And owns youth's season but a dream! Sweet is the gale that wafts the sound That bids corroding anguish flee; And kind the voice of truth profound; 15 And blest the Muse that sings like thee. But what avails the dulcet tone, The lesson Wisdom’s voice can preach? Can Reason calm Affliction’s groan; Or Maxims patient suff’rance teach? 20 Know, lib’ral Bard, the vulgar throng Who point the ranc’rous shaft at me, 263Feel not the thrills of sacred song, Nor heed the precepts taught by thee! Yet, in my bosoms ruby cell, 25 Thy philosophic lore shall live! For who can sooth the mind so well, With all the graceful Muse can give? And when the dart pale Envy wings, With recreant mischief aims at me; 30 I'll turn, where polish'd Julius sings, And mock the power of Destiny! And when weak Slander's subtle art Spits poison o'er the venal page; With the proud lyre I'll shield my heart, 35 And, smiling, mock the feeble rage! So when the venom'd Spider stings, Whose wound no mortal can endure; Let the rapt minstrel sweep the strings, And heav'nly Music yields a cure!* 40
