TO Mr. B---
ON Advertising his “Treatise on the Interests of Ireland.”
I
Say, B---, what dæmon has possess'd
A brain, that better should discern,
Than thus to chuse a theme, confess'd
No creature's study, or concern?
II
Hadst thou but writ of Mat the Miller,
Or frolicks of the Fairy-tribe,
Or, even, of John the Giant Killer;
There's not a soul but would subscribe.
III
But, here, though from a Seraph's wing
Thy manna-dropping quill were shed;
Morpheus his leaden mace shall bring,
Or ere the second page be read.
