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Poems on
The Muses too are Virgins yet,
And may be—till they Portions get.
And may be—till they Portions get.
Yet still the doating Rhimer dreams,
And sings of Helicon's bright Streams,
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields only uninspiring Water;
Yet ev'n athirst he sweetly sings
Of Nectar, and Elysian Springs.
And sings of Helicon's bright Streams,
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields only uninspiring Water;
Yet ev'n athirst he sweetly sings
Of Nectar, and Elysian Springs.
What dire malignant Planet sheds,
Ye Bards, his Influence on your Heads?
Lawyers, by endless Controversies,
Consume unthinking Clients Purses,
As Pharaoh's Kine, which strange and odd is,
Devour'd the plump and well-fed Bodies.
Ye Bards, his Influence on your Heads?
Lawyers, by endless Controversies,
Consume unthinking Clients Purses,
As Pharaoh's Kine, which strange and odd is,
Devour'd the plump and well-fed Bodies.
The
