line of her labor _the copper may touch_,
As if done by a penny-a-liner.

And behold! how the fast-growing images gleam!
Like the sparkles of gold in a sunshiny stream,
Till perplex'd by the glittering issue,
You repine for a light of a tenderer kind--
And in choosing a substance for making a blind,
Do not sneeze at the paper call'd _tissue_.

For, subdued by the sheet so transparent and white,
Your design will appear in a soberer light,
And reveal its defects on inspection,
Just as Glory achieved, or political scheme,
And some more of our dazzling performances seem,
Not so bright on a _cooler reflection_.

So the juvenile Poet with ecstasy views
His first verses, and dreams that the songs of his Muse
Are as brilliant as Moore's and as tender--
Till some critical sheet scans the faulty design,
And alas! _takes the shine out of every line_
That had form'd such a vision of splendor;

Certain objects, however, may come in your sketch,
Which, design'd by a hand unaccustom'd to etch,
With a luckless result may be branded;
Wherefore add this particular rule to your code,
Let all vehicles take the _wrong_ side of the road,
And man, woman, and child, be _left-handed._

Yet regard not the awkward appearance with doubt,
But remember how often mere blessings fall out,
That at first seem'd no better than curses;
So, till _things take a turn_, live in hope, and depend
That whatever is wrong will come right in the end,
And console you for all your _reverses_.

But of errors why speak, when for beauty and truth
Your free, spirited Etching is worthy, in sooth,
Of that Club (may all honor betide it!)
Which, tho' dealing in copper, by genius and taste,
Has accomplish'd _a service of plate_ not disgraced
By the work of a Goldsmith beside it.[43]

So your sketch superficially drawn on the plate,
It becomes you to fix in a permanent state,
Which involves a precise operation,
With a keen biting fluid, which _eating its way_--
As in other professions is common they say--
Has attain'd an artistical station.

And it's, oh! that some splenetic folks I could name
If they _must_ deal in acids would use but the same,
In such innocent graphical labors!
In the place of the virulent spirit wherewith--
Like the polecat, the weasel, and things of that kith--
They keep biting the backs of their neighbors!

But beforehand, with wax or the shoemaker's pitch,
You must build a neat dyke round the margin