THE Muses, Tom, thy Jealous Lovers be, Striving which has the greatest share in thee. Euterpe calls thee hers; such is thy skill In pastoral sonnets and in rural quill. Melpomene claims thee for her own, and cries, Thou hast an excellent vein for elegies. 'Tis true; but then Calliope disdains, Urging thy fancy in heroic strains, Thus all the Nine: Apollo by his laws Sits judge, in person to decide the cause: Beholds thy comedy, approves thy art, And so gives sentence on Thalia's part. To her he dooms thee only of the Nine; What though the rest with jealousy repine? Then let thy comedy, Thalia's daughter, Begin to know her mother Muse by laughter, Out with't, I say, smother not this thy birth, But publish to the world thy harmless mirth. No fretting frontispiece, nor biting satire [nature. Needs usher't forth: born tooth'd? fie! 'tis 'gainst Thou hast th' applause of all: king, queen, and Court, And University, all lik'd thy sport. No blunt preamble in a cynic humour Need quarrel at dislike, and (spite of rumour) Force a more candid censure, and extort An approbation, maugre all the Court. Such rude and snarling prefaces suit not thee; They are superfluous: for thy comedy, Back't with its own worth and the author's name, Will find sufficient welcome, credit, fame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH [OR ENGLISH] SAILOR [BOY] by THOMAS CAMPBELL MAGDALEN by GEORGE KENYON ASHENDON WARPED FLOWER by SHEILA BARBOUR JUVENTA PERENNIS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON MAXWELL OF CARDONESS by ROBERT BURNS |