The
INSPIR'D
QUILL
.
Occasion'd
by
a
Present
of
CROW-PENS
.
TO
you
,
Dear
Madam
,
I
complain
,
Where
Wretches
never
sigh
in
vain
;
But
always
find
,
if
not
Relief
,
At
least
Compassion
for
their
Grief
.
But
I
shou'd
make
my
Woes
appear
,
Before
I
claim
a
gentle
Tear
;
My
Tale
is
something
odd
,
'tis
true
;
Yet
sure
'twill
Credit
find
with
you
.
The
sage
Pythagoras
,
you
know
,
Asserted
many
Years
ago
,
That
when
or
Man
or
Woman
dies
,
The
Soul
to
some
new
Mansion
flies
?
If
so
,
Belinda
,
now
so
fair
May
range
the
Woods
a
sullen
Bear
:
Likewise
the
courtly
Bellamour
,
The
Lady's
Darling
to
be
sure
:
Tho'
he
in
sparkling
Laces
glow
,
The
Pattern
of
a
perfect
Beau
;
When
he
puts
off
the
human
Shape
,
May
strut
a
Monkey
or
an
Ape
.
For
me
who
now
to
you
indite
,
Whose
Talent
chiefly
is
to
write
;
What
Form
it
was
,
I
do
not
know
,
I
wore
two
thousand
Years
ago
:
The
Being
that
I
first
remember
,
Was
on
a
Morning
of
December
;
But
not
December
last
(
I
ween
)
No
—
many
Years
have
past
between
;
I
found
myself
a
wealthy
Squire
,
And
seated
by
a
Parlour-Fire
,
A
fine
Estate
of
mellow
Ground
,
In
Cash
full
Thirty
thousand
Pound
,
Two
hundred
Oxen
in
a
Stall
,
And
ten
lean
Servants
at
my
Call
,
An
ancient
House
well
built
but
low
,
Behind
of
Oaks
an
ample
Row
,
A
Court
before
—
without
much
State
,
And
three
Gaunt
Mastiffs
at
the
Gate
;
All
these
had
I
—
a
happy
Knave
As
you
may
think
—
but
with
your
Leave
A
wretched
Usurer
was
I
,
With
hagard
Jaws
and
eager
Eye
,
That
starv'd
amidst
unwieldy
Store
,
And
lost
my
Life
in
search
of
more
,
This
Pluto
saw
,
and
bid
me
go
Into
the
Carcase
of
a
Beau
,
To
taste
of
Pleasure
and
of
Pains
,
With
slender
Purse
and
shallow
Brains
,
My
Wig
behind
was
smartly
ty'd
,
My
silver
Box
with
Snuff
supply'd
:
On
Books
I
seldom
lov'd
to
pore
,
But
sung
and
danc'd
,
and
aptly
swore
;
Where-e'er
I
came
the
Ladies
smil'd
;
This
call'd
me
Pug
—
and
t'other
Child
:
To
please
and
to
address
the
Fair
,
Was
all
my
Business
and
my
Care
;
But
now
my
Gold
began
to
fly
,
And
sure
Destruction
hover'd
nigh
:
At
last
to
Limbo
was
I
led
,
From
whence
the
struggling
Spirit
fled
.
Almeria's
Lap-dog
next
I
grew
,
And
wore
a
Coat
of
glossy
Hue
,
Caress'd
and
courted
ev'ry
Day
,
At
Ev'ning
by
her
Side
I
lay
:
Her
Smiles
were
always
bent
on
me
(
The
happiest
Days
that
e'er
I
see
)
But
,
Oh
,
as
by
a
River-side
,
I
walk'd
along
with
short-liv'd
Pride
,
A
cruel
Foot-boy
threw
me
in
,
And
laugh'd
as
tho'
it
was
no
Sin
.
Once
more
to
gain
a
human
Face
,
I
step'd
into
a
Lawyer's
Case
:
This
Station
pleas'd
me
wond'rous
well
,
And
in
a
trice
I
learn'd
to
spell
,
Cou'd
read
old
Coke
with
prying
Eyes
,
Explain
,
distinguish
,
and
advise
,
Talk
Latin
to
a
good
degree
;
As
Admittendo
Custode
,
Eject
,
Extendi
:
and
my
Fee
:
'Tis
true
I
scorn'd
to
rob
or
kill
,
But
not
to
cheat
or
forge
a
Will
:
In
Jointures
I
cou'd
split
a
Hair
,
And
make
it
turn
against
the
Heir
:
I
spar'd
no
Widow
for
her
Tears
,
No
Orphan
for
his
tender
Years
:
My
Maxim
was
—
'
Get
Money
,
Man
,
Get
Money
,
where
and
how
you
can
:
Thus
through
the
Stage
of
Life
I
run
,
(
For
,
Ah
!
my
Race
was
quickly
done
)
And
still
preserv'd
my
Ears
and
Nose
,
In
spite
of
venial
Sins
like
those
.
My
next
Disguise
too
well
you
know
,
Degraded
to
a
simple
Crow
;
Both
Cold
and
Hunger
doom'd
to
bear
,
And
hover
in
the
limpid
Air
,
Till
on
a
day
a
spiteful
Hind
,
With
dreadful
Arms
and
bloody
Mind
,
Vow'd
quick
Destruction
to
my
Head
:
And
in
a
Moment
shot
me
dead
:
Then
set
my
ghastly
Corse
on
high
To
fright
my
Fellows
from
his
Rye
.
I
now
grew
out
of
Pluto's
Favour
,
Who
grumbl'd
at
my
late
Behaviour
;
And
vow'd
(
when
thus
his
Sentence
ran
)
I
shou'd
no
more
appear
as
Man
;
But
that
he
wou'd
confine
me
still
Within
the
compass
of
a
Quill
.
My
Fate
is
hard
,
as
you
may
guess
,
Yet
I
cou'd
bear
it
ne'er-the-less
,
Wou'd
you
or
Fortune
be
so
kind
To
comfort
an
afflicted
Mind
,
And
take
me
from
the
hated
Cell
,
Where
Yesterday
you
bid
me
dwell
:
For
Oh
,
I
guess
—
nay
more
I
know
it
,
That
my
new
Mistress
is
a
Poet
;
Then
how
shall
I
who
still
inherit
,
A
Tincture
of
the
Lawyer's
Spirit
;
How
shall
I
bear
from
time
to
time
To
scrawl
unprofitable
Rhyme
?
To
live
for
Years
and
ne'er
behold
The
Presence
of
enchanting
Gold
,
Yet
scribble
on
—
Besides
,
alack
,
I
fear
she'll
quickly
break
my
Back
.
Then
since
my
Pedigree
you
know
:
(
Dear
Madam
,
)
Ah
some
Pity
show
,
And
recommend
me
to
a
Place
;
For
sure
there's
Mercy
in
your
Face
,
To
some
Attorney
let
me
go
,
For
there
my
Talents
suit
(
you
know
)
Heroicks
I
shall
write
but
ill
;
But
I'm
a
Doctor
at
a
Bill
,
At
Flights
of
Fancy
very
dull
;
But
I
can
form
Receipts
at
full
.
The
Favour
that
I
ask
of
you
,
(
Have
pity
when
the
Wretched
sue
)
Is
your
good
Word
or
what
is
better
,
A
Recommandatory
Letter
?
And
if
I'm
happy
in
your
Grace
,
I
think
I
need
not
doubt
a
Place
.