TO humbler Strains, ye Nine, descend,
And greet my poor sequester'd Friend.
Not Odes with rapid Eagle flight,
That soar above all human Sight;
Not Fancy's fair and fertile Field,
To all the same Delight can yield.
But come CALLIOPE and say
How Pleasure wastes the various Day:
Whether thou art wont to rove
By Parade, or Orange Grove,
Or to breathe a purer Air
In the Circus or the Square;
Wheresoever be thy Path,
Tell, O tell the Joys of