Miss Flaxman

The Humble Supplication of Timothy Couplet Esqre

From his Temple of the Winds

January 1st 1811

“Oh for a Muse of Fire!” Tim Couplet cries,
Round his bleak attic, while he turns his eyes:
“A Muse of Fire! The very idea warms,
It thaws my intellects, my soul it charms.
Delightful thought, to view the sea-coal blaze
Inspiring poesy, like Phoebus rays!
What tho the reeking chimney blinds my eyes
I’ll say it is the smoke of sacrifice!
And if the Victim meet my ravish’d sight,
Tho but a Cambrian rabbit what delight!
But if the favoring gods should deign to treat
Their famish’d poet with a joint of meat!
While the kind Muse the chimney taught to glow
He’d be the happiest of men below!
(Above, he meant, for th’ aspiring climber,
Had lived in Nubibus, since first a rhymer)
The Muse of Fire! She who her store unlocks
For the famed author of the Tinder Box!

She, who in yon fair city ruled the roast,
And help’d to celebrate a Northern Toast!
’Tis she! ye gods, that could my song inspire
If not Apollo’s, yet with Vulcan’s fire.