Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/411

Rh Let them—but hold, my Muse, nor dare to teach

A strain far, far beyond thy humble reach:

The native genius with their being given

Will point the path, and peal their notes to heaven.

And thou, too, ! resign to minstrels rude

The wilder Slogan of a Border feud:

Let others spin their meagre lines for hire;

Enough for Genius, if itself inspire!

Let sing, altho' his teeming muse,

Prolific every spring, be too profuse;

Let simple chime his childish verse,

And brother lull the babe at nurse;

Let Spectre-mongering aim, at most,

To rouse the Galleries, or to raise a ghost;