there a bard whom genius fires,
Whose ev'ry thought the God inspires?
When Envy reads the nervous lines,
She frets, she rails, she raves, she pines,
Her hissing snakes with venom swell,
She calls her venal train from hell,
The servile fiends her nod obey,
And all  authors are in pay.
Fame calls up calumny and spite.
Thus shadow owes its birth to light.