To Be Inspired, I Suck the Muses' Breasts

To be inspired, I suck the Muses' breasts; and, like young babes that thirst for tender milk, and for health from their mother's nippled chests, I champ the teats sublime for strains of silk. O god-like breasts from whence beauteous rhyme proceeds and flows (which sustain with dulcet songs), what swan, what bard, what poet can these feast-time glands make go wrong!? Their nourishment makes them strong. O thou bare-bosom'd Muses so divine! Be all mine, and I'll be thine: for as heir, I'll glut earth with breastmilk's rhymes, line by line, so all men grow through verses everywhere. O Muses! With potent breasts so nourishing, soon all the world's souls will be flourishing.