Nay, Fly To Altars; There They'll Talk

While Pensive Poets Painful Vigils Keep, Sleepless Themselves, To Give Their Readers Sleep.

O Let Us Still The Secret Joy Partake, To Follow Virtue Even For Virtue's Sake.

From Vulgar Bounds With Brave Disorder Part, And Snatch A Grace Beyond The Reach Of Art.

Love The Offender, Yet Detest The Offense.

Music Resembles Poetry, In Each Are Nameless Graces Which No Methods Teach, And Which A Master Hand Alone Can Reach.