Thou shar'st his money, and must share his shame.Me, not the meanest of Apollo's train,She hates, and I repeat my verse in vain;I sing before her gate; her gate I findIs less obdurate than her harden'd mind.Forbear your songs, Apollo's sons, forbear,And bend your future thoughts to arms and war.Instead of inspirations, get commands;To murder, and to rapine use your hands,And you with ease reduce the female bands.Had Homer in the Grecian army serv'd,We ne'er had heard that he had begg'd, or starv'd.Of gold the thund'rer show'd the mighty pow'r,Descending softly thro' the brazen tow'r,And clasping Danae in a golden show'r.A thousand bars the virgin fair did hold,But what are iron bars to bribes of gold?Against this foe her father could not guard;Watchmen, and women kept a fruitless ward.The damsel, who herself before was coy,