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v

Dedicatory Sonnet.

Roscoe! wilt thou forgive me, when I claim
Thus publicly thy friendship, and aspire
After attention to my humble lyre
Beneath the shelter of thy honour'd name?
Pleas'd to encourage, and averse to blame
The meanest votary of the tuneful choir,
Thou wilt not bid me in despair retire,
Though slow my progress in the road to fame.
Whether the simple wreath thus idly twin'd
Shall fade neglected, or regarded bloom
I leave to taste like thine; and if the mind
Which genius and the muses all illume
Deride me not, no puny critic's dart
Shall change my course, or ever reach my heart.