Oh "British poesy, whose powers inspire"
My verse—or I'm a fool—and Fame's a liar,
"Thee we invoke, your Sister Arts implore"
With "smiles," and "lyres," and "pencils," and much more.30
These, if we win the Graces, too, we gain
Disgraces, too! "inseparable train!"
"Three who have stolen their witching airs from Cupid"
(You all know what I mean, unless you're stupid):
"Harmonious throng" that I have kept in petto
Now to produce in a "divine sestetto"!!
"While Poesy," with these delightful doxies,
"Sustains her part" in all the "upper" boxes!
"Thus lifted gloriously, you'll sweep along,"
Borne in the vast balloon of Busby's song;40
"Shine in your farce, masque, scenery, and play"
(For this last line George had a holiday).
"Old Drury never, never soar'd so high,"
So says the Manager, and so say I.
"But hold," you say, "this self-complacent boast;
Is this the Poem which the public lost?
"True—true—that lowers at once our mounting pride;"
But lo;—the Papers print what you deride.
"'Tis ours to look on you—you hold the prize,"
'Tis twenty guineas, as they advertise!50
"A double blessing your rewards impart"—
I wish I had them, then, with all my heart.
"Our twofold feeling owns its twofold cause,"
Why son and I both beg for your applause.
"When in your fostering beams you bid us live,"
My next subscription list shall say how much you give!
[First published, Morning Chronicle, October 23, 1812.]