Scorning with studied art to drag along

Scorning with studied art to drag along The doubled epithet of monstrous length, Join in the jingling of th' affected song, Court feeble melody, and banish strength.

No labour'd, no fictitious strains I bring, But unreserved pour forth my honest heart; Nature and true Affection bade me sing, I felt the wound of no pretended dart.

Oh! may my pen fall from my palsied hand, When I survive to real taste a Pest! Or place in nice array with Orders' wand The hasty ebullitions of my breast!

My theme is chosen 'mid the British Fair, No antique Bards for love-thoughts I explore, No fabled Gods from Greece and Rome I bear, No Nymphs, or Dryads from the Classic shore.

Such ornaments may please the shallow mind, Exotic gewgaws twisted into rhime; But Elegance delights in chaplet twined By Nature's hand, and inmates of the Clime.

Nor here hath Love disdain'd his gifts to shed, The feeling Soul is not unfrequent here; And genuine Rapture by the Graces led, Oft tunes the lyre, and thrills the listening ear.