University of Virginia Library

So I, dear sir, have oft snatch'd up the quill
To hail your ear, yet have been silent still;
Aw'd by superior worth, my pen forgot
Its wonted pow'r, and trembled out a blot;
The Muse sat mute and hung her languid head,
And fancy crawl'd with diffidence and dread;
Till forc'd at last, I spurn the phantom Fear,
And dare to face your dread tribunal here.