 | The Distressed Poet |  |
43
CANTO THE THIRD.
No—not for all that empty fameCan give, or happiest writers claim,
Nor what to Bards is most bewitching,
The run of a warm plenteous kitchen;
Tho' Dodsley beckon'd with his purse,
Dodsley, the Poets' friend and nurse,
No—nor for all beneath the skies,
Would I offend The Unities;
Nor my historic Tale disgrace
By want of Action, Time, or Place;
Or in this little Drama bring,
Or person, circumstance, or thing,
44
Deem most essential to the plot,
That thus each part well ty'd together,
The whole may stand both wind and weather.
Tho' in obedience to these rules,
We find too often Genius cools,
I hold it classical and right
To keep them ever in our sight.
| The Distressed Poet | |