No matter what; just use your eyes,

And all will praise what all can prize;

Strange motley pictures in a misty mirror,

A spark of truth in a thick cloud of error;

’Tis thus we brew the genuine beverage,

To edify and to refresh the age.

The bloom of youth in eager expectation,

With gaping ears drinks in your revelation;

Each tender sentimental disposition

Sucks from your art sweet woe-be-gone nutrition;

Each hears a part of what his own heart says,

While over all your quickening sceptre sways.

These younglings follow where you bid them go.

Lightly to laughter stirred, or turned to woe,

They love the show, and with an easy swing,

Follow the lordly wafture of your wing;

Your made-up man looks cold on everything,

But growing minds take in what makes them grow.

Poet.

Poet.

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