Nay, by my Muse too I was blest
With Off-springs of the choicest kinds,
Such as have pleas'd the noblest minds,
And been approv'd by Judgements of the best.
But in this most transporting height,
Whence I lookt down, and laught at Fate,
All of a sudden I was alter'd grown;
I round me lookt, and found my self alone:
My faithless Muse, my faithless Muse was gone.
I try'd if I a Verse could frame:
Oft I in vain invok'd my Clio's name.
The more I strove, the more I fail'd.
I chaf'd, I bit my Pen, curst my dull Scull, and rail'd,
Resolv'd to force m'untoward Thought, and at the last prevail'd.
A Line came forth, but such a one,
No trav'ling Matron in her Child-birth pains,
Full of the joyfull Hopes to bear a Son,
Was more astonisht at th' unlookt-for shape
Of some deform'd Baboon, or Ape,
Then I was at the hideous Issue of my Brains.
I tore my Paper, stabb'd my Pen,
And swore I'd never write agen,
Resolv'd to be a doating Fool no more.
But when my reck'ning I began to make,
I found too long I'd slept, and was too late awake;
I found m'ungratefull Muse, for whose false sake
I did my self undo,
Had robb'd me of my dearest Store,
My precious Time, my Friends, and Reputation too;
And left me helpless, friendless, very proud, and poor.
7.
Reason, which in base Bonds my Folly had enthrall'd,
I strait to Council call'd;
Like some old faithfull Friend, whom long ago