sing the Town, where balmy Waters flow,
To which  Health the Nations owe,
My Muse aspires; while conscious Blushes rise,
And her weak Pinions tremble, ere she flies;
Till, drawing Vigour from those living Springs,
She dares to raise her Voice, and stretch her Wings.
Not the fam'd Springs, which gave Poetic Fire,
Had nobler Virtues, or could more inspire.
Too weak my Voice; but Great  Name
Shall raise my Numbers, and defend my Fame.