That he warms with his subject, and soars in his song.
But whether his lot be unhonour’d and low,
Or the wreath of the Laureat encircles his brow,
[p26] With the world to admire him, mysterious elf!
Is a secret of state that he keeps to himself.
But come! Zoological wonders require
The strains of his genius, his force and his fire;
He burns with impatience the scene to display:
Hark away, to the Gardens of Taste! Hark away!
The sun, as he rose, was received with a cheer,