Now while the Dewdrop “glistens on the thorn,”
And crimson tinted clouds announce the morn,
Peeping at mortals o’er the mountain’s height;
Come Madam Muse, prepare to take a flight
And while we range the skies together;
You need not fear to meet bad weather;
And sure there’s time enough ’tween this and night?
And now well mounted on Pegasus’ back,
Let us disdainful of the beaten track,
Shew to you wond’ring men the true sublime;
Fools! that stand doubting half afraid to climb
Up steep Parnassus far fam’d mountain,
To taste that pure Pierian fountain,
That teaches moon-struck poets how to rhyme.
We’ll strike a road as yet to man unknown,
A nearer one by half t’Apollo’s throne;
One, never to be pass’d by man again,
One, like a ship’s course through the swelling main,
Whose waves across her deep track flowing,
Conceal from all the way it’s going,
And those who seek it, seek for it in vain.
Truly this voyage have I been forc’d to take,
And now ’tis made; I think those for whose sake
I made it, will not thank me for my pain:
Indeed I’m sure they’ll by it nothing gain!
But, Ladies, this fatigue of writing,
(When brains are tired of inditing)
Will pardon me for writing in this strain.
Perhaps next year supplied with fresher wit,
My shallow brain may make a luckier hit,
My voyage may finish with some happy prize;
And when I come rejoicing from the skies,
I’ll bring you such Poetic Poesies,
Such Lilies, Violets, Cowslips, Roses,
Ladies, you’ll scarce believe your Ears and Eyes!!!