Parent of song! and, equal by his side,
The British Muse; join’d hand in hand they walk,
Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame,
Nor absent are those shades, whose skilful touch
Pathetic drew th’ impassion’d heart, and charm’d
Transported Athens with the moral scene;
Nor those who, tuneful, waked th’ enchanted lyre.
‘First of your kind! society divine!
Still visit thus my nights, for you reserved,
And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours.