So awful and majestic they appear,
They need not blush to reach a Prince's ear.
Princes, tho' to poor poets seldom kind,
20Their numbers turn'd to air with pleasure mind
Studied and labour'd tho' our poems be,
Alas! they die unheeded without thee,
Whose art can make our breathless labours live,
Spirit and everlasting vigour give.
Whether we write of Heroes and of Kings,
In Mighty Numbers, Mighty Things,