from To one that persuades me to leave the Muses*
Forgo the charming Muses! No, in spite
Of your ill-natured prophecy I’ll write,
And for the future paint my thoughts at large,
I waste no paper at the Hundred’s charge:
I rob no neighbouring geese of quills, nor slink
For a collection to the church for ink:
Besides my Muse is the most gentle thing
That ever yet made an attempt to sing:
I call no lady punk, nor gallants fops,
Nor set the married world on edge for ropes; [10]
Yet I’m so scurvily inclined to rhyming,
That undesigned my thoughts burst out a-chiming;
My active Genius will by no means sleep,
And let it then its proper channel keep.
I’ve told you, and you may believe me too,
That I must this, or greater mischief do;
And let the world think me inspired, or mad,
I’ll surely write while paper’s to be had;
Since Heaven to me has a retreat assigned,
That would inspire a less harmonious mind. [20]
All that a poet loves I have in view,
Delightsome hills, refreshing shades, and pleasant valleys too,
Fair spreading valleys clothed with lasting green,
And sunny banks with gilded streams between,
Gay as Elysium, in a lover’s dream,
Or Flora’s mansion, seated by a stream,
Where free from sullen cares I live at ease,
Indulge my Muse, and wishes, as I please,
Exempt from all that looks like want or strife,
I smoothly glide along the plains of life, [30]
Thus Fate conspires, and what can I do to’t?
Besides, I’m vehemently in love to boot,
And that there’s not a willow sprig but knows,
In whose sad shade I breathe my direful woes,
But why for these dull reasons do I pause,
When I’ve at hand my genuine one, because!
And that my Muse may take no counter spell,
I fairly bid the boarding schools farewell:
No young impertinent shall here intrude,
And vex me from this blissful solitude […] [40]
… Japan, and my esteemed pencil too,
And pretty Cupid, in the glass, adieu,
And since the dearest friends that be must part,
Old governess farewell with all my heart.
Now welcome all the inspiring tender things
That please my Genius, suit my make and years,
Unburdened yet with all but lover’s cares.