Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen’d by such means, here Scandal whets her quill,
Here Slander shoots unseen, whene’er she will;
Here Fraud and Falsehood labour to deceive,
And Folly aids them both, impatient to believe. 
Such, sons of Britain! are the guides ye trust;
So wise their counsel, their reports so just!-
Yet, though we cannot call their morals pure,
Their judgment nice, or their decisions sure;
Merit they have to mightier works unknown,
A style, a manner, and a fate their own. 
   We, who for longer fame with labour strive,
Are pain’d to keep our sickly works alive;
Studious we toil, with patient care refine,
Nor let our love protect one languid line. 
Severe ourselves, at last our works appear,
When, ah! we find our readers more severe;
For, after all our care and pains, how few
Acquire applause, or keep it if they do! 
Not so these sheets, ordain’d to happier fate,
Praised through their day, and but that day their date;
Their careless authors only strive to join
As many words as make an even line;
As many lines as fill a row complete;
As many rows as furnish up a sheet: 
From side to side, with ready types they run,
The measure’s ended, and the work is done;
Oh, born with ease, how envied and how blest! 
Your fate to-day and your to-morrow’s rest,
To you all readers turn, and they can look
Pleased on a paper, who abhor a book;
Those who ne’er deign’d their Bible to peruse,
Would think it hard to be denied their News;
Sinners and saints, the wisest with the weak,
Here mingle tastes, and one amusement seek;
This, like the public inn, provides a treat,
Where each promiscuous guest sits down to eat;
And such this mental food, as we may call
Something to all men, and to some men all. 
   Next, in what rare production shall we trace
Such various subjects in so small a space? 
As the first ship upon the waters bore
Incongruous kinds who never met before;
Or as some curious virtuoso joins
In one small room, moths, minerals, and coins,
Birds, beasts, and fishes; nor refuses place
To serpents, toads, and all the reptile race;
So here compress’d within a single sheet,
Great things and small, the mean and mighty meet. 
’Tis this which makes all Europe’s business known,
Yet here a private man may place his own: 
And, where he reads of Lords and Commons, he
May tell their honours that he sells rappee. 
   Add next th’ amusement which the motley page
Affords to either sex and every age: 
Lo! where it comes before the cheerful fire,-
Damps from the press in smoky curls aspire
(As from the earth the sun exhales the dew),
Ere we can read the wonders that ensue: 
Then eager every eye surveys the part
That brings its favourite subject to the heart;
Grave politicians look for facts alone,
And gravely add conjectures of their own: