Trifles :: :: University of Virginia Library

Forgive me, Duck, that such a muse as mine,
Brings her weak aid to the support of thine;
In lines, which if the world should chance to see,
They'd find I pleaded for myself—in thee.

Yet some indulgence sure they ought to shew
An infant poet, and unlearn'd as you;
Unskill'd in art, unexercis'd to sing;
I've just but tasted the Pierian spring:
But tho' my stock of learning yet is low;
Tho' yet my numbers don't harmonious flow,
I fain wou'd hope it won't be always so.
The morning sun emits a stronger ray,
Still as he rises tow'rds meridian day:

224

Large hills at first obstruct the oblique beam,
And dark'ning shadows shoot along the gleam;
Impending mists yet hover in the air,
And distant objects undistinct appear.
But as he rises in the eastern sky,
The shadows shrink, the conquer'd vapours fly;
Objects their proper forms and colours gain;
In all her various beauties shines th' enlighten'd plain.

So when the dawn of thought peeps out in man,
Mountains of ign'rance shade at first his brain?
A gleam of reason by degrees appears,
Which brightens and encreases with his years;
And as the rays of thought gain strength in youth,
Dark mists of error melt and brighten into truth.

Thus asking ign'rance will to knowledge grow;
Conceited fools alone continue so.
On then, my friend, nor doubt but that in time
Our tender muses, learning now to climb,
May reach perfection's top, and grow sublime.
The Iliad scarce was Homer's first essay;
Virgil wrote not his Æneid in a day:
Nor is't impossible a time might be,
When Pope and Prior wrote like You and Me.
'Tis true, more learning might their works adorn,
They wrote not from a pantry nor a barn:
Yet they, as well as we, by slow degrees
Must reach perfection, and to write with ease.

225

Have you not seen? yes, oft you must have seen,
When vernal suns adorn the woods with green,
And genial warmth, enkindling wanton love,
Fills with a various progeny the grove,
The tim'rous young, just ventur'd from the nest,
First in low bushes hop, and often rest;
From twig to twig, their tender wings they try,
Yet only flutter when they seem to fly.
But as their strength and feathers more increase,
Short flights they take, and fly with greater ease:
Experienc'd soon, they boldly venture higher,
Forsake the hedge, to lofty trees aspire;
Transported thence, with strong and steady wing
They mount the skies, and soar aloft, and sing.

So you and I, just naked from the shell,
In chirping notes our future singing tell;
Unfeather'd yet, in judgment, thought, or skill,
Hop round the basis of Parnassus' hill:
Our flights are low, and want of art and strength.
Forbids to carry us to the wish'd-for length.
But fledg'd, and cherish'd with a kindly spring,
We'll mount the summit, and melodious sing.