Portland Gazette, And Maine Advertiser

Original Poetry.

TO THE NINE MUSES.

YE Nine hackneyed girls who so oft meet with praises,
Who to every rude passenger deigns to be kind;
You've appeared no doubt with those sweet
lack-a-dashes,
Those love breathing sounds of rapture refin'd
If some coaxing fool with no mind, but two faces,
To win some small favour have call'd you the chaste;
You need not be proud for "the sons of the graces"
Have painted you all rather loose in the waist
For Colin ne'er writes to his Cloe a sentence,
But to you he first kneels and implores your kind aid;
And then in "rough metre" he swears his repentance,
And again, by your arts he seduces the Maid.
So as for your virtue, 'tis trash just to cheat with.
You know-I know-and the world knows it too,
That you give yourselves up to each fellow you meet with;
First it him then laugh that he thought you was true
Farewell triple trinod, Adieu ye nine Muses-
I ask not your favour, there's others as good ;
I ne'er will be jilted. ne'er bear your abuse
I've found a TENTH Muse who is good flesh and blood."

CYPRIAN.