Nor Rural Sights Alone, But

It Chills My Blood To Hear The Blest Supreme Rudely Appealed To On Each Trifling Theme.

The Man That Hails You Tom Or Jack, And Proves By Thumps Upon Your Back How He Esteems Your Merit, Is Such A Friend, That One Had Need Be Very Much His Friend Indeed To Pardon Or To Bear It.

They Best Can Judge A Poet's Worth, Who Oft Themselves Have Known The Pangs Of A Poetic Birth By Labours Of Their Own.

Some Write A Narrative Of Wars And Feats, Of Heroes Little Known, And Call The Rant A History.

Philologists, Who Chase A Painting Syllable Through Time And Space Start It At Home, And Hunt It In The Dark, To Gaul, To Greece, And Into Noah's Ark.