 | The works, in verse and prose, of the late Robert Treat Paine, Jun. Esq |  |
TO TRUTH.
[_]
The two following Pieces were written in answer to some one, who, under the signature of Truth, had attacked Mr. Paine in language, here distinguished by inverted commas.
“Begs not, but steals!” If ought with furtive view
From elder bards my muse hath e'er purloined,
She scorns those artless thefts, performed by you,
Who steal the dross, but leave the gold behind.
From elder bards my muse hath e'er purloined,
She scorns those artless thefts, performed by you,
Who steal the dross, but leave the gold behind.
“With all the charms of lofty nonsense graced!”
Such “nonsense” surely can't with thine agree;
On me the robes of Dulness thou hast placed;
Thank Heaven, I'm not a fool in rags, like thee.
Such “nonsense” surely can't with thine agree;
143
Thank Heaven, I'm not a fool in rags, like thee.
“The discounts few!” Hadst thou, dull cynic, cast
O'er Fame's bright ledger a correct survey,
There thou hadst found Philenia's dues so vast,
That all the Muses can't the interest pay.
O'er Fame's bright ledger a correct survey,
There thou hadst found Philenia's dues so vast,
That all the Muses can't the interest pay.
Should'st thou, to soothe departed Credit's ghost,
At Taste's or Honour's bank present a note,
With Conon's and Ezekiel's names endorsed,
And were the sum applied for, but a groat;
At Taste's or Honour's bank present a note,
With Conon's and Ezekiel's names endorsed,
And were the sum applied for, but a groat;
No just director, were the signer known,
Would trust so base an applicant a stiver;
To thy responsorship would clip the loan,
And, cent per cent, curtail it—to a cypher.
Would trust so base an applicant a stiver;
To thy responsorship would clip the loan,
And, cent per cent, curtail it—to a cypher.
Henceforth, let “Truth” a liberal spirit learn,
For female genius claims a deathless mead;
Henceforth those low, aspersive insults spurn,
Which Truth would blush to write, and Genius weep to read.
For female genius claims a deathless mead;
Henceforth those low, aspersive insults spurn,
Which Truth would blush to write, and Genius weep to read.
| The works, in verse and prose, of the late Robert Treat Paine, Jun. Esq | |