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Whose rapture would prevail, 'tis hard to say,
Theirs who rehears'd, or ours who heard the lay.
They proud to sing, and we well pleas'd to hear,
The willing voice would find the patient ear,
By mutual compact they would furnish lays,
And we the large return of grateful praise.
Thus on an earlier or a later date,
By strange caprice, is hung the Poet's fate.
Minstrels once loath'd and stigmatiz'd with shame,
Born in our days, had soar'd to heights of fame;
And those whose verse enchants this gentle age,
The ancient Muse had lash'd with fiercest rage.
Theirs who rehears'd, or ours who heard the lay.
They proud to sing, and we well pleas'd to hear,
The willing voice would find the patient ear,
By mutual compact they would furnish lays,
And we the large return of grateful praise.
Thus on an earlier or a later date,
By strange caprice, is hung the Poet's fate.
Minstrels once loath'd and stigmatiz'd with shame,
Born in our days, had soar'd to heights of fame;
And those whose verse enchants this gentle age,
The ancient Muse had lash'd with fiercest rage.
