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THE

MINSTREL;

\ , O R, T H E

PROGRESS Of GENIUS.

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THE FIRST BOOK.

I.

AH! who can tell how hard it is to climb Thesteep where Fame'sproud temple shinesasar! Ah! who can tell how many a foul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scosf of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In lise's low vak remote has pined alone, Tlicn dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

II.

And yet, the languor of inglorious days,. Not equally oppressive 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, Wou'd shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame; Supremely blest is to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim,

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