A Westminster Exercise

Inspir'd with joy, we see the learned throng Listen propitious to our humble song. Within these walls, the infant muse delights To plume her new-fledg'd wings for future flights. Here trembling voices uncouth strains repeat, Here bards first totter on poetic feet; Till by degrees grown bold, with active skill, They gain the summit of the sacred hill. Thus Cowley, Dryden, Buckhurst, Prior came First in the lists of poetry and fame.

Not by our steps, nor labours such as these, The brazen-fac'd Corinthian try'd to please; But spite of Phoebus and the muse's art, The actor fondly play'd the poet's part: While with harsh untaught notes he wakes the plains The sweeter cat-call emulates his strains. Hiss'd, hooted, damn'd, despis'd, the scribbling fool Finds to his cost, he was not bred at school. He might have 'scap'd a yawning gallery's curses, Had our third form first known his nonsense verses; By humble steps he might have ris'n to praise, And having felt our Birch, deserv'd your Bays.