I grieve to see you waste your Time,
And turn your Thoughts so much to Rhyme.
Be wise — your useless Views resign,
And fly the fair, delusive Nine .

I know, they try their wonted Art,
To win your easy, youthful Heart;
They talk of an immortal Name,
And promise you the Realms of Fame:
A mighty Empire, Con . 'tis true,
But wondrous small the Revenue!

They'll tell you too, to gain their Ends,
That Verse will raise you pow'rful Friends.
Believe me, Youth, this is not true:
The Great think ev'ry thing their Due .