THE LIBRARY

Here, e'en the sturdy democrat may find,

Nor scorn their rank, the nobles of the mind;

While kings may learn, nor blush at being shown

How Learning's patents abrogate their own.

A goodly company and fair to see;

Royal plebeians; earls of low degree;

Beggars whose wealth enriches every clime;

Princes who scarce can boast a mental dime;

Crowd here together like the quaint array

Of jostling neighbours on a market day.

Homer and Milton,--can we call them blind?--

Of godlike sight, the vision of the mind;

Shakespeare, who calmly looked creation through,

'Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new';

Plato the sage, so thoughtful and serene,

He seems a prophet by his heavenly mien;

Shrewd Socrates, whose philosophic power

Xantippe proved in many a trying hour;

And Aristophanes, whose humour run

In vain endeavour to be-'cloud' the sun;

Majestic Aeschylus, whose glowing page

Holds half the grandeur of the Athenian stage;

Pindar, whose odes, replete with heavenly fire,

Proclaim the master of the Grecian lyre;

Anacreon, famed for many a luscious line,

Devote to Venus and the god of wine.

I love vast libraries; yet there is a doubt

If one be better with them or without--

Unless he use them wisely, and, indeed,

Knows the high art of what and how to read.

At Learning's fountain it is sweet to drink,

But 'tis a nobler privilege to think;

And oft, from books apart, the thirsting mind

May make the nectar which it cannot find.

'Tis well to borrow from the good and great;

'Tis wise to learn; 'tis godlike to create!

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