A truce to words, mere empty sound, Let deeds at length appear, my friends! While idle compliments you round, You might achieve some useful ends. Why talk of the poetic vein? Who hesitates will never know it; If bards ye are, as ye maintain, Now let your inspiration show it. To you is known what we require, Strong drink to sip is our desire; Come, brew me such without delay! To-morrow sees undone, what happens not to-day Still forward press, nor ever tire! The possible, with steadfast trust, Resolve should by the forelock grasp; Then she will ne'er let go her clasp, And labours on, because she must.