Full oft the vulgar see more clear Than those within an higher sphere.
Erewhile a certain famous Poet With far more wit than grace to show it, Approached, in mental vision nigh The Paradise above the sky: There heard, or seemed to hear, a KING The Hundredth Psalm in solo sing— The grateful voice of one received To Bliss: — from earth, who late reliev'd, And mingling with the sacred throng, Then sung that joy-inspired song.
This Bard, (who many Bards excels), As, of himself, this story tells; The truth whereof may some dispute; Because, with him, such views not suit; Because, his spleenful mind despises That good, which ev'ry wise man prizes; And, therefore, such improper deem For him, this unbefitting theme.
But, for a moment, grant it true, Of Paradise he caught a view; Should such a scene to him return, Let him take heed, and wisdom learn: Let him no more apply his skill To please his wayward fancy's will: Let him no more his wit employ, To blight the hope of future joy; But there seek entrance to obtain, While yet that search may not prove vain. Let him this friendly hint attend, His sentiments and verses mend: So shall he gain deserv'd applause, And the keen eye discern no flaws.
