192
LOSS AND GAIN.
Virtue runs before the Muse,
And defies her skill;
She is rapt, and doth refuse
To wait a painter's will.
Star-adoring, occupied,
Virtue cannot bend her
Just to please a poet's pride,
To parade her splendor.
The bard must be with good intent
No more his, but hers;
Must throw away his pen and paint,
Kneel with worshippers.
