English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers; a Satire

Still must I hear? --shall hoarse FITZGERALD bawl His creaking couplets in a tavern hall, And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch Reviews Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my _Muse? _ Prepare for rhyme--I'll publish, right or wrong: Fools are my theme, let Satire be my song. Oh! Nature's noblest gift--my grey goose-quill! Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men!…