My unwashed Muse pollutes not things divine,
Nor mingles her profaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly waiting at the porch, she stays, 5
And with glad ears sucks in thy sacred lays.
So, devout penitents of old were wont,
Some without door, and some beneath the font,
To stand and hear the Church’s liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemn exercise: 10
Sufficeth her, that she a lay-place gain,
To trim thy vestments, or but bear thy train;