html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }For once, ye critics, let the sportive Muse
Her fool's cap wear, spite of the shaking head
Of stern-eyed Gravity—for, tho' the Muse
To frolic be dispos'd, no song she chants
Immoral; nor one picture will she hold,
But Virtue may approve it with a smile.
Ye sylvan deities! awhile adieu!
Ye curling streams! whose banks are fring'd with flowers,
Violet and hare-bell, or the king-cup bright,
Farewell! for I must leave your rich perfumes
To sing the Pin in ever sounding lays:
But not that Pin, at whose circumference
Rotund, the strong-nerv'd rustic hurls the bowl
Ponderous and vast: nor that which window bars
From thief nocturnal: nor that other call'd
A skittle; chiefly found where alehouse snug
Invites mechanic to the flowing cup
Of Calvert's mild, o'er-canopied with froth.
No—'tis the Pin so much by ladies us'd;
Without whose aid the nymph of nicest taste,
Of neatest mould, a slattern would appear.
Hail then, thou little useful instrument!
Tho' small, yet consequential. For by thee
Beauty sets off her charms, as at the glass
Lucy, or Phillis, best adapts thy point.
Without thy service would the ribband flaunt
Loose to the fanning gale, nor on the head
Of belle would stand her whimsical attire.
The kerchief from her neck of snow would fall
With freedom bold, and leave her bosom bare.
How would the sempstress trim thy want regret
As she her apron forms! And how the man
Of law, sagacious, with his spectacles
On nose reverted! frequent does he want
Thy prompt assistance, to connect his scraps
And notes obliterated o'er. Thee oft
In alley, path, wide square, and open street,
The miser picks, as conscious of thy use;
With frugal hand, accompanied with brow
Of corrugated bent, he sticks thee safe,
Interior on his coat; then creeps along,
Well judging thy proportion to a groat.
Thro' all thy different storehouses to trace
Thy presence, either in the sculptur'd dome,
Or tenement clay-built, would ask a pen
With points almost as various as thy heads.
Where-e'er thou art, or in whatever form,
Magnificent in silver, or in brass,
Or wire more humble, nightly may'st thou lie
Safe on thy cushion'd bed, or kiss the locks
Of Chloe, sleeping on the pillow's down.