James Beattie

I dare not hope to please a Cinna's ear.
Or sing what Varus might vouchsafe to hear;
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I dare not hope to please a Cinna's ear.
Or sing what Varus might vouchsafe to hear;
Harsh are the sweetest lays that I can bring,
So screams a goose where swans melodious sing.

He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.

Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.

Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.

'Twas thus by the glare of false science betray'd,
That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.

'Twas thus by the glare of false science betray'd,
That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.