Poems Bentley III
Synopsis
LET others sing, in soft, harmonious strain, The praise of Vice, and all her abject train; Or to pert Folly's whim devote the lyre, O, let me to some nobler theme aspire! Tho' mean my verse, at Virtue's shrine I bend, Ye tuneful Nine, your kinder influence lend. Virtue, thou fair celestial of the skies! Why should mankind thy genuine worth despise?
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