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.

Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
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Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And oft on soaring pinions hover'd o'er
The lofty palace then his own no more.

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.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!