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T II E

MINSTREL;

OR, THE

PROGRESS Of GENIUS.

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THE FIRST BOOK.

AH! who cfcn tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple siiinesasar i Ah! who can tell how many a foul sublime 17Is felt the influence os malignant star, And wag d with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff os Pride, by Envy's frown. And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote li :s pined alone, slien dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown i.

II.

And yet, the languor of inglorious days, Not equally oppreffive is to all. Him who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise, The silence of neglect can ne'er appal. There are, who, deas to mad Ambition's call, Won d shrink to hearth'obstreperous trump of Fames Supremely blest is to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines pro*

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