Horace Smith

J. S. W., "To the Authors of the celebrated Rejected Addresses and Horace in London" European Magazine 63 (May 1813) 415.

Wit, like beauty's glances bright,
Kindles in the soul delight,
Though fiery, half enchanting,
Kills dusky care in spirits rife,
Revives in hermit-bosoms life,
Cold cheerless gloom supplanting.

But the wanton's practis'd smile,
Stings while striving to beguile,
And thus is wit mischievous;
Discretion e'er should spring the mine,
Its magic else indeed may shine,
But just as surely grieve us.

Stars of satire, twins of song,
Rais'd above the muses throng,
Of woeful toiling debtors,
With genius' various powres blest,
To lash the worst, nor fear the best,
That tread the world of letters.

Bursting on a waning age,
Thalia calls you to the stage,
Behold her mangled tresses,
Eager she hails regarding fame,
Points to your hope-inspiring name,
And seals it with "Addresses."

Friends, accept this hasty lay,
Brief and barren as it may,
You'll by it ne'er be undone;
'Tis but the payment of your due,
For pleasure I receiv'd from you,
Per Odes "Horace in London."
Islington, March 17, 1813.