CCCXVI.

TO MR. THOMSON.

[In the double service of poesy and music the poet had to sing of pangs which he never endured, from beauties to whom he had never spoken.]

FORLORN my love, no comfort near, &c.[284]

How do you like the foregoing? I have written it within this hour: so much for the speed of my Pegasus; but what say you to his bottom?

R. B.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 284: Song CCLVIII.]

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