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 * But now, ye gay! to whom indulgent fate,

Of all the muse's empire hath assign'd The fields of folly, hither each advance Your sickles; here the teeming soil affords Its richest growth. A fav'rite brood appears; In whom the dæmon, with a mother's joy, Views all her charms reflected, all her cares At full repay'd. Ye most illustrious band! Who, scorning reason's tame, pedantic rules And order's vulgar bondage, never meant For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal Pay vice the rev'rence virtue long usurp'd, And yield deformity the fond applause Which beauty wont to claim; forgive my song That for the blushing diffidence of youth, It shuns the unequal province of your praise.


 * Thus far triumphant in the pleasing guile

Of bland imagination, folly's train Have dar'd our search: but now a dastard-kind Advance reluctant, and with fault'ring feet Shrink from the gazer's eye: infeebled hearts, Whom