Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571564" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sent To Mr. Haley, On Reading His Epistles On Epic Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What blooming garlands shall the Muses twine,<br>What verdant laurels weave, what flowers combine,<br>To crown their favorite Son whose generous heart<br>Has check'd the arrogance of Critic Art,<br>And shewn that still in their exhaustless mine<br>The purest gems of radiant Genius shine,<br>To grace the venturous Poets who explore<br>The unsun'd treasures of their sacred store?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor this the Syren note of flattering praise,<br>Or the fond tribute partial friendship pays; <br>A voice unknown to fame, to thee unknown,<br>But wak'd by thy superior worth alone,<br>Attempts, perhaps with too officious zeal,<br>Thy thoughts awhile from higher cares to steal,<br>And in presumptuous numbers dares essay<br>To hail the glories of thy matchless lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O fairest hope of Britain's tuneful Choir!<br>Why yield to other hands the Epic Wire?<br>Say who of all her Bards like thee shall swell<br>To strains of extasy th' Heroic shell?<br>When the long series of connecting rhime<br>Denies the raptur'd flight or march sublime<br>Who shall the interval so well beguile<br>With each rich ornament of polish'd style?<br>Who o'er the thrilling heart such forms shall throw<br>Of frantic horror, or pathetic woe? <br>Or when the notes from Freedom's clarion blown<br>Chill the pale Despot on his trembling throne,<br>What manly son of Britain's warbling throng<br>Shall join the Pæan with so bold a song?<br>And if inventive Fancy love to stray<br>'Mid the wild tracts of Fiction's faery way,<br>Say who shall mate those magic powers that stole<br>The nightly vision o'er Serena's soul?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then let, illustrious Bard!—though rude her voice,<br>A Muse of humble mien divert thy choice.—<br>With timid hand snatch no reflected grace<br>From the sweet Maniac of Hesperian race.<br>Since Genius' keenest rays thy bosom fire<br>O strike with native force the British Lyre, <br>That, while such virtuous chiefs adorn thy strain<br>As Greece and Rome shall emulate in vain,<br>Albion may consecrate thy deathless name,<br>And found her Epic pride on Hayley's fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+James+Pye">Henry James Pye</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571564" data-title="Sent To Mr. Haley, On Reading His Epistles On Epic Poetry de Henry James Pye" data-description="What blooming garlands shall the Muses twine,
What verdant laurels weave, what flowers combine,
To crown their favorite Son whose generous heart
Has check'd the arrogance of Critic Art,
And shewn that still in their exhaustless mine
The purest gem..."></div>
</div>
</div>