But spoil (I think) a very pretty poem.[262]
CVIII.
Oh! ye, who make the fortunes of all books!
Benign Ceruleans of the second sex!
Who advertise new poems by your looks,
Your "Imprimatur" will ye not annex?
What! must I go to the oblivious cooks,[EO]
Those Cornish plunderers of Parnassian wrecks?
Ah! must I then the only minstrel be,