The Carrier's Address to the Patrons and Friends of the Flag of the Union
The Carrier’s Address To The Patrons And Friends of The Flag of The Union.
Whilst genial friendship on this festive day,
Prompts each kind heart its compliments to pay;
Whilst generous joy with each enlivening grace
Glows in all hearts, and beams from every face;
Say, will it chase your smiles, if he once more,
Who weekly brings the paper to your door,
Now comes to greet you with his annual strains,
And ask a little boon for all his pains?
And ah! he strain’d indeed these strains to write,
Oft smote his breast and thump’d his vacant head,
Hopeless behold his lamp’s expiring light,
And sleepless tumbled on his lonely bed.
Thus to the Nine I rais’d my invocation;
“Celestial Queens! your tuneful influence shed,
For tho’ most lowly is my occupation,
Yet must I write my verse, or lose my bread.
Some prompted by ambition, write for fame,
Praise all their object, and their aim bright glory,
All for the very highest scat to gain,
Of Fame’s high temple in the upper story.
No seat in Fame’s fine temple I desire,
No branches from the Olympian grove I claim;
I only want a SEAT beside my fire,
Sweet Nymphs, I want the wood to raise the flame.
I write not for a badge to make a show,
But for a cOAT to guard from the storm;
Not for a myrtle-wreath to deck my brow,
But only for a HAT to keep it warm.
I do not write for name, ah no! but need,
I do not pant for praise, but only pelf;
Not write for crities on my lines to feed,
But only, lovely muse, to feed myself.
Effulgent maids the brightest of your kind,
Who round Castalia’s crystal waters play,
Then spread your sapphire pinions to the wind,
And to sublime Parnassus tone your way.
Oh from your glittering plumes one quill bestow,
Wet with Pierian dew so chaste and clear,
Then with sweet melody my strains shall flow
And win the hearts of all my PATRONS dear”
While to the muses thus I raised my prayer,
Entreating their kind aid to tune my lay;
One came methought, and whispered in my ear,
And said with gentle voice,—or seem’d to say
For Heaven’s sake stop! Why all this mighty flutter?
Do not disturb your heart with anxious care;
If now your scatter’d wits you cannot muster,
Thou must surrender to dispair.
Kind are your friends, sweet Charity they love,
And of its sting harsh Poverty disarm,
They want no song their sympathy to move,
No verse, their liberality to charm.
Tell them in simple phrase your small demand,
And how for them you toil at early day;
Quickly they’ll open wide the liberal hand,
And with a CHRISTMAS GIFT your toils repay.
Oh yes! I’ll take thy counsel, then, cried I,
With joy, with gratitude and wonder too,
And to kind friends you see I’ve come to try,
If my good whispering guide has me true.
Now Heaven preserve you all full many a year,
Place guardian Cherubs round with watchful eyes,
To keep your lives, my friends, in safety here,
Then lend their little wings, and lift you to the skies.