To the Author of the Answer to the REBUS in our last.
What paltry Muse could e’er inspire,
A Genius to assail,
With keenest Satire, sharpest Wit,
The fair one’s woven Tale.
What could induce his narrow Mind,
To bid her learn to cook;
And nip another in the Bud,
And bid him learn his Book.
The warmest, noblest, greatest fires,
From smallest sparks arise,
Till kindling quick on every side,
They rise to meet the Skies.
’Twas cruel then, with hasty Step,
To crush the rising Flame,
Which upwards tends, and might perhaps,
Hereafter raise a Name.
Cease then thy censure, Critic cease,
If thou art now expert,
Perhaps thy Muse once rude as theirs,
Once as devoid of Art.
A rebus never more attack,
Make choice of loftier Themes,
Subjects more worthy of thy Verse,
Than “rousing Men from Dreams”.
Resolve to leave such vulgar Themes,
For more sublime and high;
Be your resolve sincere and just,
Howe’er I thus will try.