Mary Robinson

Prosy, "To Castalio, Laura Maria, Rosa Maria, &c." The True Briton (8 August 1800).

O ye whose voices, dolorously mild,
Whine your soft loves in soporific strains;
Or screaming, unintelligibly wild,
Too publicly attest your want of brains!

Oh! bright CASTALIO, LAURA, ROSA — Oh!
Fond Pupils of the DELLA CRUSCAN school!
Alas! to common sense why each a foe?
Alas! in Poesy, why each a fool?

Seek you FAME'S temple by these simple lays,
Wasteful of ink that Moon-struck frenzy yields?
O rather seek, of men to win the praise,
That Temple in the purlieus of Moorfields!

There each, immur'd in fit Parnassian cell,
May rave or droop as folly strikes the lyre;
There each may woo the other passing-well,
By Prudes unheeded, what the Loves inspire.

There each fond PYRAMUS, each THISBE there,
Some grateful Cranny in the wall may find;
A sweet conveyance of the sigh of care,
Or of the verse, if PHOEBUS prompts the mind.

There, Swan-like, each may musically die,
With Passions unobtrusive and unmock'd;
To Court in Public! — Fie, ye Minstrels, fie!
Your Love from vulgar Notice should be lock'd!
1st August, 1800.

[signed "L. L. D." in Oracle and the Daily Advertiser (9 August 1800)]