You us'd me ill, and I withdrew, <br />Intent on satirizing you. <br />The Muses to my Aid I call; <br />They came; and told me, one and all, <br />That I mistook their Province quite, <br />They never sully'd what was bright; <br />And said, If Satire was my Aim, <br />I ought to chuse another Theme. <br /> <br />I heard with Anger, and Surprize; <br />Begg'd they'd inspire, and not advise. <br />In vain I begg'd--they all withdrew; <br />When to my Aid a Phantom flew, <br />And vow'd she'd give my Satire Stings, <br />And whisper'd some resentful Things-- <br />Said, You delighted, all your Days, <br />To torture her a thousand Ways: <br />Bid me revenge her Cause, and mine, <br />And blacken you in ev'ry Line. <br /> <br />This I resolv'd; but still in vain-- <br />We both must unreveng'd remain: <br />For I, alas! remember now, <br />I long ago had made a Vow, <br />That, should the Nine their Aid refuse, <br />Envy should never be my Muse.<br /><br />Mary Barber<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/written-at-bath-to-a-young-lady/
