Since fair Augusta first had bless'd his eyes,
When great Bronzoides first soliloquiz'd:
'Was it for this, that o'er the classic deep
I sail'd, and landed on poetic shores?
Have I for this flew round the Aonian mount
With plumes immortal, and so often play'd
With spotless Muses, in Pierian meads?
Am I, ye Gods, eternally to scribe
Inglorious? No—Some power uplifts my soul,
Buoyant, above the common class of earth's