The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
 | I. |
The Duel
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 | II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| 1 | | VI. |
| VII. |
 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
21
The Duel
22
Of Clineas' and Dametas' sharper fight
I've neither leisure nor design to write;
Of blood and wounds let bolder poets sing:
My muse shall of our modern heroes sing.
In humble verse I'll only dare to tell
How brawny Bavius and slim Maevius fell
At odds, and in their bloodless rhyming strife
There was no jeopardy of limbs or life.
Bold's thy attempt, Will Maevius, to engage
Bob Bavius, the macninny of the age:
Redoubled blockhead, eminently dull,
The lyric poet with the sevenfold skull.
A head that's guarded has a sure defence
Against the weak attacks of wit and sense.
Thus arm'd, the mighty hero takes the field,
And in his fist a swinging pen does wield,
Drawn from a swan's white wing with art and care,
One of the largest weapons poets wear;
For swan and goose and crow, sometimes we see,
Afford the rhyming crew artillery.
With this dire weapon, harmless without skill,
He vows to be reveng'd on whiffling Will:
I've neither leisure nor design to write;
Of blood and wounds let bolder poets sing:
My muse shall of our modern heroes sing.
In humble verse I'll only dare to tell
How brawny Bavius and slim Maevius fell
At odds, and in their bloodless rhyming strife
There was no jeopardy of limbs or life.
Bold's thy attempt, Will Maevius, to engage
Bob Bavius, the macninny of the age:
Redoubled blockhead, eminently dull,
The lyric poet with the sevenfold skull.
A head that's guarded has a sure defence
Against the weak attacks of wit and sense.
Thus arm'd, the mighty hero takes the field,
And in his fist a swinging pen does wield,
Drawn from a swan's white wing with art and care,
One of the largest weapons poets wear;
23
Afford the rhyming crew artillery.
With this dire weapon, harmless without skill,
He vows to be reveng'd on whiffling Will:
Will, a pert youth, a scandal scribbling elf,
Whom Bob had brought up dully like himself;
He taught his feeble hand to trail a quill
And nicely did direct him to write ill.
He shew'd him first the art or surest way
Of writing an insipid roundelay.
Of any word Bob makes a mercury,
For any dunce can write as well as he;
When this Will knew, he straight rejects his sway,
And tho' a minor blockhead, scorns to obey,
Undone by false admirers of his wit,
For some dull coxcombs prais'd what he had writ.
Pamper'd with praise, the fop grows proud and vain,
And foolish commendation turn'd his brain.
This made him in poetic frenzy raise
Legions of verse to fight for blasted bays;
That sneering, sniveling, scribbling knight, his friend,
Has levy'd rhymes, and both with Bob contend,
But such a wretched rhymer he is found,
With lasting fame for dullness, he is crown'd.
Whom Bob had brought up dully like himself;
He taught his feeble hand to trail a quill
And nicely did direct him to write ill.
He shew'd him first the art or surest way
Of writing an insipid roundelay.
Of any word Bob makes a mercury,
For any dunce can write as well as he;
When this Will knew, he straight rejects his sway,
And tho' a minor blockhead, scorns to obey,
Undone by false admirers of his wit,
For some dull coxcombs prais'd what he had writ.
Pamper'd with praise, the fop grows proud and vain,
And foolish commendation turn'd his brain.
This made him in poetic frenzy raise
Legions of verse to fight for blasted bays;
That sneering, sniveling, scribbling knight, his friend,
Has levy'd rhymes, and both with Bob contend,
But such a wretched rhymer he is found,
With lasting fame for dullness, he is crown'd.
Angry at their revolt, with passion wild,
Bob Bavius swore he'd ne'er be reconcil'd;
In wrath contracts his forehead with a frown,
And with his pen's butt end knocks poor Will down.
Will whips his crow quill up in his defence,
And swore the world should judge who writ most sense.
When pigmies fight, the cranes straight part the fray,
And whirl the little combatants away.
Let this similitude give no offence,
For gyant Bob like Will's a dwarf in sense.
Bob Bavius swore he'd ne'er be reconcil'd;
In wrath contracts his forehead with a frown,
And with his pen's butt end knocks poor Will down.
Will whips his crow quill up in his defence,
And swore the world should judge who writ most sense.
When pigmies fight, the cranes straight part the fray,
And whirl the little combatants away.
Let this similitude give no offence,
For gyant Bob like Will's a dwarf in sense.
Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina Maevi.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |