O be thou keen to guess when Flattery's near! His face is not the shadow of his heart: The Court is all for lucre like the mart, And fraught with perils that a king should fear -- Trust not the flatterer's hollow sympathy: For should'st thou fathom that dishonest sound, The line would rise with noisome clays hung round And not the fruitful loam of love for thee: O ill-starred royalty! Love's balmy sighs Where Truth breathes on us from her sweetest shrine -- The access to all pure delights and ties -- Say are they less the peasant's lot than thine? Beyond the shepherd's bliss thou canst not rise; And many snares to steal ev'n that combine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID by MATTHEW PRIOR THE IDEA by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON LILIES: 24 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PSALM 114 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SCARABAEUS SISYPHUS by MATHILDE BLIND |