As we foretold you, were all Spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air.
And, like the baseless fabric of these verses,
The Critic's puff, the Trade's advertisement,
The Patron's promise, and the World's applause,—
Yea, all the hopes of poets,—shall dissolve,
And, like this unsubstantial fable fated,
Leave not a groat behind!