That, once the Poet’s theme, the Muses’ boast,
Now lie in ruins, in oblivion lost!
Did they, whose sad distress these lays deplore, }
Unskilled in Grecian, or in Roman lore, }
Unconscious pass along each famous shore? }
They did: for in this desert, joyless soil,
No flowers of genial science deign to smile;
Sad ocean’s genius, in untimely hour,
Withers the bloom of every springing flower;
For native tempests here with blasting breath,