Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/481

Rh (A limping leader, but a lofty bard)

Though walled Ithome had resisted long,

Reduced the fortress by the force of song.

When Oracles prevailed, in times of old,

In song alone Apollo's will was told.

Then if your verse is what all verse should be,

And Gods were not ashamed on't, why should we?

The Muse, like mortal females, may be wooed;

In turns she'll seem a Paphian, or a prude;

Fierce as a bride when first she feels affright,

Mild as the same upon the second night;

Wild as the wife of Alderman or Peer,

Now for His Grace, and now a grenadier!

Her eyes beseem, her heart belies, her zone—

Ice in a crowd—and Lava when alone.

If Verse be studied with some show of Art,

Kind Nature always will perform her part;

Though without Genius, and a native vein

Of wit, we loathe an artificial strain,

Yet Art and Nature joined will win the prize,

Unless they act like us and our allies.