Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE AUTHOR'S BIRTHDAY, by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE



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ON THE AUTHOR'S BIRTHDAY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Now six and thirty rapid years are fled
Last Line: "but the fair guerdon is immortal fame."
Subject(s): Birthdays; Fame; Happiness; Reason; Virtue; Reputation; Joy; Delight; Intellect; Rationalism; Brain; Mind; Intellectuals


Now six and thirty rapid years are fled
Since I began, nor yet begin to live;
Painful reflection! to look back I dread,
What hope, alas! can looking forward give?

Day urges day, and year succeeds to year,
While hoary age steals unperceived along;
Summer is come, and yet no fruits appear,
My joys a dream, my works an idle song.

Ah me! I fondly thought Apollo shone
With beams propitious on my natal hour;
Fair was my morn, but now at highest noon
Shades gather round, and clouds begin to lour.

"Yes, on thy natal hour," the God replies,
"I shone propitious and the Muses smiled;
Blame not the Powers, they gave thee wings to rise,
But earth thou lov'st, by low delights beguiled.

"Possessing wealth beyond a poet's lot,
Thou the dull track of lucre hast preferred,
For contemplation formed and lofty thought,
Thou meanly minglest with the vulgar herd.

"Oh! born for nobler ends, dare to be wise,
'Tis not e'en now too late, assert thy claim;
Rugged the path that leads up to the skies,
But the fair guerdon is immortal fame."





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