Right Trusty, and so forth--we let you know We are very ill used by you mortals below. For, first, I have often by chemists been told, (Though I know nothing on't,) it is I that make gold; Which when you have got, you so carefully hide it, That, since I was born, I hardly have spied it. Then it must be allow'd, that, whenever I shine, I forward the grass, and I ripen the vine; To me the good fellows apply for relief, Without whom they could get neither claret nor beef: Yet their wine and their victuals, those curmudgeon lubbards Lock up from my sight in cellars and cupboards. That I have an ill eye, they wickedly think, And taint all their meat, and sour all their drink. But, thirdly and lastly, it must be allow'd, I alone can inspire the poetical crowd: This is gratefully own'd by each boy in the College, Whom, if I inspire, it is not to my knowledge. This every pretender in rhyme will admit, Without troubling his head about judgment or wit. These gentlemen use me with kindness and freedom, And as for their works, when I please I may read 'em. They lie open on purpose on counters and stalls, And the titles I view, when I shine on the walls. But a comrade of yours, that traitor Delany, Whom I for your sake have used better than any, And, of my mere motion, and special good grace, Intended in time to succeed in your place, On Tuesday the tenth, seditiously came, With a certain false trait'ress, one Stella by name, To the Deanery-house, and on the North glass, Where for fear of the cold I never can pass, Then and there, vi et armis, with a certain utensil, Of value five shillings, in English a pencil, Did maliciously, falsely, and trait'rously write, While Stella, aforesaid, stood by with a[3] light. My sister[2] hath lately deposed upon oath, That she stopt in her course to look at them both; That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding; And still as he writ, stood smiling and reading: That her eyes were as bright as myself at noon-day, But her graceful black locks were all mingled with grey: And by the description, I certainly know, 'Tis the nymph that I courted some ten years ago; Whom when I with the best of my talents endued, On her promise of yielding, she acted the prude: That some verses were writ with felonious intent, Direct to the North, where I never once went: That the letters appear'd reversed through the pane, But in Stella's bright eyes were placed right again; Wherein she distinctly could read ev'ry line,[4] And presently guessed the fancy was mine. She can swear to the Parson whom oft she has seen At night between Cavan Street and College Green. Now you see why his verses so seldom are shown, The reason is plain, they are none of his own; And observe while you live that no man is shy To discover the goods he came honestly by. If I light on a thought, he will certainly steal it, And when he has got it, find ways to conceal it. Of all the fine things he keeps in the dark, There's scarce one in ten but what has my mark;