A Christmas Carol

Mr Elliott

The Poets’ Address to Their Inspiring Muse
Written after a luxurious luncheon, upon Mince Pies

Anacreon, fired with rosy wine,
Poured forth of old his strains divine:
But happier Bards of modern date,
With Georgiana’s Pies elate,
Now carol forth their Christmas Lays
Her culinary taste to praise.
Henceforth let Mince-Pies ever be
The life and soul of poetry;
Castalia’s mount and rill, farewell!
No more of you shall Poets tell.
What tho’ the tuneful Sisters nine
Each species in themselves combine
Of tragic, comic, epic, measure —
A lay for ev’ry varied pleasure —
Within a mince-pie’s crust do meet
The essence cull’d of ev’ry sweet
That can the ravish’d muses greet;
Besides, the fair Georgiana’s art
Transporting influence can impart,
Can make the rais’d-crust’s magic round
With sweets unknown before abound.
Deign then! sweet Nymph, our Muse to be!
The sportive verse, inspired by thee,
Shall still in jocund guise flow on,
And make thy pies in Helicon.