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, in which
  You may pour the dilute aqua-fortis. 
For if raw like a dram, it will shock you to trace
Your design with a horrible froth on its face,
  Like a wretch in articulo mortis.

Like a wretch in the pangs that too many endure
From the use of strong waters, without any pure,
  A vile practice, most sad and improper! 
For, from painful examples, this warning is found,
That the raw burning spirit will take up the ground,
  In the churchyard, as well as on copper!

But the Acid has duly been lower’d, and bites
Only just where the visible metal invites,
  Like a nature inclined to meet troubles;
And behold! as each slender and glittering line
Effervesces, you trace the completed design
  In an elegant bead-work of bubbles!