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The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson

... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c

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EPIGRAM.
  
  
  
  
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EPIGRAM.

I ask'd a poor fav'rite of Phœbus t'other night,
Whom to see, I had toil'd seven proud stories' height;
If his wit could inform me what cause can be for it,
That poets incline so to live in a garret?
‘There are many,’ quoth he, ‘don't you know that sly reynard
When trac'd from the hen-roost, the fold or the vineyard,
How by turnings and doubling he endeavors to fleece
Each hound of its aim, then repose him in peace?
So we, (such you see are the terms of Apollo)
Still in dread of the Bailiff or Dun's horrid hollo;

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Mount, winding and circling through a labyrinth of stairs,
To our own airy regions of hunger and cares.
‘Another, moreover, might likewise be given—
We're nearer Apollo, the Muses, and Heaven;
From whence, when the patch from its pane is unfurl'd,
We can spit with contempt on the rest of the world;
And, living on air, sure 'tis well understood,
That the higher the garret the purer the food.’