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HOW pleasing from some sea-washt rock's tall brow,
To watch the lab'ring vessel toss below!
'Tis not the crew's distress, which gives the charm,
But danger seen, ourselves secure from harm.
Thus, with a grateful joy and pitying smile,
We view the ancient Minstrel's endless toil.
While, free from care, we pour th' unlabour'd song,
Despise the Critic, and delight the throng.
To watch the lab'ring vessel toss below!
'Tis not the crew's distress, which gives the charm,
But danger seen, ourselves secure from harm.
Thus, with a grateful joy and pitying smile,
We view the ancient Minstrel's endless toil.
While, free from care, we pour th' unlabour'd song,
Despise the Critic, and delight the throng.
Of old the Poet's ills with youth began,
The boy bewail'd the woes, which vex'd the man.
The dread of Censor's frown, the fruitless toil,
The sickly hue, the waste of midnight oil,
The boy bewail'd the woes, which vex'd the man.
The dread of Censor's frown, the fruitless toil,
The sickly hue, the waste of midnight oil,
