Ah! what is science, what is art, <br />Or what the pleasure these impart? <br />Ye trophies, which the learn'd pursue <br />Through endless, fruitless toils, adieu! <br /> <br />What can the tedious tomes bestow, <br />To soothe the miseries they show? <br />What like the bliss for him decreed, <br />Who tends his flock and tunes his reed? <br /> <br />Say, wretched Fancy! thus refined <br />From all that glads the simplest hind, <br />How rare that object which supplies <br />A charm for too discerning eyes! <br /> <br />The polish'd bard, of genius vain, <br />Endures a deeper sense of pain; <br />As each invading blast devours <br />The richest fruits, the fairest flowers. <br /> <br />Sages, with irksome waste of time, <br />The steep ascent of knowledge climb; <br />Then, from the towering heights they scale, <br />Behold contentment range-the vale. <br /> <br />Yet why, Asteria, tell us why <br />We scorn the crowd when you are nigh? <br />Why then does reason seem so fair, <br />Why learning, then, deserve our care? <br /> <br />Who can unpleased your shelves behold, <br />While you so fair a proof unfold, <br />What force the brightest genius draws <br />From polish'd wisdom's written laws? <br /> <br />Where are our humbler tenets flown? <br />What strange perfection bids us own <br />That Bliss with toilsome Science dwells, <br />And happiest he who most excels?<br /><br />William Shenstone<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-lady-of-quality-fitting-up-her-library/
