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The poetical works of John Nicholson

... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird
 

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THE MUSE.
 
 
 
 
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THE MUSE.

What means it though the poet's cot
Be placed in some sequester'd spot,
Where oaks, and elms, and beeches grow,
Or on the heath, where rushes bow,
In vales, where peaceful graze the flocks,
Or near the mossy-vestur'd rocks?
Romantic scenes can ne'er indite,
Nor situations make him write.

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'Tis genius must his breast inspire,
And light the true, poetic fire.
Without it he may read and pore
Ancient and modern classics o'er,
May walk in ruins late or soon,
While through the arches shines the moon,
Where sleeps the abbot, monk, or friar;
But if he has not Nature's lyre,
Nor ancient ruins, nor the woods,
The rippling rills, the foaming floods,
Embattled fields, nor ancient hall,
Romantic scenes, where cat'racts fall,
Nor works of other authors' pens,
Nor Cumbria's lakes, nor Highland glens,
Nor all the scenes which ever graced
The paintings of a man of taste,
Not all the arts the scribblers use
Can make a bard without the Muse.