of the adversary; and as to the Individual to whom some of my remarks are more particularly pointed, I must be bold enough to say that I have hopes of being able, in case of necessity, to prove myself a match for so formidable an antagonist*, without resorting either to his ribaldry or his fiction.

Ode to the Muse.

In vain thy glorious voice they heard;

No waken'd pulse within them stirr'd

A tremulous delight:

With dull regard they pass'd thee by,
They saw thy wild prophetic eye,
And wonder'd at the sight.

Not the supreme in power and pride,
The rich, the great, the high-allied,
Thy choicest boons have blest:

O generous Muse, through every age,
Thy gifts have sooth'd, on sorrow's stage,
The poor and the opprest.

Angel of light, the spell is thine
That lifts with raptures all divine
Coy Nature's lowliest child:

In spite of penury and scorn,

For Him is Fancy's sweetest morn,

Dear Nurse of visions wild!