As the poor Ostrich when by hunters chased
His head within some neighbouring bush conceal’d
Believes himself from sight securely eased
Tho’ by his body to the foe revealed
So thus while you the Muses disown
Your verses make you as their fav’rite known
But why should you reject Roberto’s name
Why disavow your journey to the skies
Plunge not your genius in oblivion’s stream
But let your verses meet our Attic eyes
The Muses fav’rite and the loved of heaven
Are titles rarely to a mortal given.
Yet fear lest you the damsel’s rage provoke
And cause them to withdraw their heaven by fire
Think you they’ll favour those, who e’en in joke
Deny the sacred favour they inspire
Besides how can you doubt Thalia’s aid
After the promises that she has made.
The Genii of the Attic Chest
We know not good sir if by you it is noted
But next Tuesday’s the Night to the Muses devoted
When if from your Castle you’ll deign to descend
Your presence much glee to the assembly will lend