The Pen’s Address to the Successful Candidate
Formed through the fields of air to range
We suffer no inglorious change
Since gentle Ellen signs our doom
To lend our aid to Fancy’s plume
Through Wit’s etherial realms to stray
And bask in kind Apollo’s ray.
No mortal artist’s hand prepared
These engines of the favoured Bard
These from the stores of Nature lent
Are for her best-loved children meant,
Accept our aid — let Nature guide
The power her beauty has supplied
Then We, from Æther’s tenants riven
May reach again our native heaven.