The Author to his Book.
Go gall-less infant of my teeming quill.
Not yet bedew'd in Syracusa's rill,
And like a forward plover gadd'st abroad,
Ere shell-free or before full age has strow'd
On thy smooth back a coat of feathers,
To arm thee 'gainst the force of weathers,
Doom'd to the censure of all ages,
Ere mail'd against the youngest rages.