'I wonder,' said a friend of mine,
'How many names of taste will shine
'On your Subscription List?'
'Two hundred, Sir, perhaps, or so;
'There can't be more, as few can know,
'My Songs or I exist:
'Besides, the great, no doubt, will think
'I write and waste my time and ink,
'Without or sense or rule;
'A female, train'd to care and toil--
'Her mind unnurs'd in Learning's soil,
'Can never touch the soul.'
'But sure you'll publish,' said my friend,
'The names of those who condescend
'To raise your humble fame?
'Ah no!' said I, 'they'll be too few,
'M'NEIL and BURNS had ten for two;
'I cannot then for shame.'
But now, to my most sweet surprize,
How many hundreds meet my eyes!
Unlook'd for smile of Fate!
To see so many names of worth
Here join'd, to draw their Poet forth
From her obscure estate!
My num'rous friends, accept my thanks,
Where, to my pride, in goodly ranks,
Ye grace my simple page;
The sight of each respected name
Will raise my little volume's fame,
And shame the critic's rage.