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'Tis time that some one would the silence break
And cause Society the crimsoned cheek!
One who, instructed by poetic rule,
Can wield the piercing shafts of ridicule.
Against the fools and tricksters of the Age,
And either shame them or provoke their rage;
For prosy censure seems not to suffice
In dealing with shams, humbug, tricks and vice,
And with low-minded men of high degree
Who sate their passions base in secrecy.
The Poet's satire too, in these our days.
Would be much more consistent than his praise
Of modern Literature, the Stage and Press,
Of Sects and Creeds, Amusements, Laws and Dress,
Of Legislators, and Commerical men,
Who well deserve his censures now and then.

My verse is satire! and I mean to wage
Sarcastic warfare with the present Age;
'My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray'
And fearlessly will I urge on my way;
Indifferent to the mouthing or grimace
Of knave and humbug, the corrupt and base;
On such I will expend my shafts and powder.