Talent is rare, genius is rarer still:
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might I, a humble soul, covet the twain,
that I may scale the rugged heights and hill
of Helicon; and entreat once again
Apollo and the Muses for brilliance,
skill, art, and dexterity of sound mind,
with which to master written eloquence,
odes, pastorals, and songs lyrically refined.
Once granted to me by the gods of myth,
I'll offer thanks and sacrifice; promise
Phoebus incense, prayers, myself, and one-fifth
of my yearly harvests to appease Pierus;
and magnify with meter the Logos,
in whom resides, and is, the LORD of hosts!