The fate, in lively sorrow, to deplore
Of wanderers shipwrecked on a leeward shore.
Alas! neglected by the sacred Nine,
Their suppliant feels no genial ray divine
Ah! will they leave Pieria’s happy shore,
To plough the tide where wintery tempests roar?
Or shall a youth approach their hallowed fane,
Stranger to Phœbus, and the tuneful train?
Far from the Muses’ academic grove,
’Twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove;