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Then Erato he sought, the Muse of Love;

But here, again, it was his lot to prove

What bitter hopelessness his search befel!

For, in the stead of Erato, he saw,

Scribbling soft rubbish with immense eclat,

She of the three initials L. E. L.

Now Polyhymnia, who'over song

And harmony presides, among the throng

He sought; but, in her place, alas, he found

A lady full of quavers and of shakes,
A prima donna maķing sad mistakes,

Giving for harmony unnatural sounds.

Calliope his next attention claimed,

Of epic poetry the goddess named;

But her he found asleep with fast-closed eye :

He tried to wake her,—but 'twas all in vain;

Phæbus at first her trance could not explain,

Until he saw Montgomery's Satan by.



Lastly Urania he turns to find,

To whom Astronomy has been assigned;

But fate once more his inclination mars :

Disgusted with our uncongenial clime,

Urania, since Sir Isaac Newton's time,

Has taken up her quarters in the stars.

Hurt at the treatment which his protegés
Have met with, “Phoebus you're a fool," he says,

“For sending them to this most dull of nations;

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