From themes too lofty for a bard so mean
beckons to an humbler scene.
The restless fever of ambition laid,
Calm I retire, and seek the sylvan shade.
Now be the  disrob'd of all her pride,
Be all the glare of verse by  supplied,
And if plain nature pours a simple strain,
Which BUTE may praise, and OSSIAN not disdain,
OSSIAN,  Bard of all,
Whom  MACPHERSON
Then round my head shall honour's ensigns wave,
And pensions mark me for a willing slave.