A Native Bard, a native scene displays, And claims your candour for his daring lays: Daring, so soon, in minic scenes to shew, What each remembers as a real woe. Who has forgot when gallant André died? A name by Fate to Sorrow's self allied. Who has forgot, when o'er the untimely bier, Contending armies paus'd, to drop a tear. Our Poet builds upon a fact to-night; Yet claims, in building, every Poet's right; To choose, embellish, lop, or add, or blend, Fiction with truth, as best may suit his end; Which, he avows, is pleasure to impart, And move the passions but to mend the heart. O, may no party spirit blast his views, Or turn to ill the meanings of the Muse; She sings of wrongs long past, Men as they were, To instruct, without reproach, the Men that are; Then judge the Story by the genius shown, And praise, or damn it, for its worth alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO MALTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON HER LIKENESS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK THE POET by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR OF MONEY by BARNABY (BARNABE) GOOGE THE FARMER'S BRIDE by CHARLOTTE MEW BY THE SEA by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |