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xxv
ODE TO ANTHONY PASQUIN, Esq.
Pasquin, can nought thy daring pen impede,
Or stem the venom of thy critic gall?
Shall thy effusions make whole legions bleed,
And thou sit smiling as their numbers fall?
Or stem the venom of thy critic gall?
Shall thy effusions make whole legions bleed,
And thou sit smiling as their numbers fall?
By heaven! I'll probe thee to the heart's warm core,
If Thespis hurl again his satire round,
E'en thy existence, by the gods, I've swore,
To bring, by strength samfonian, to the ground!
If Thespis hurl again his satire round,
E'en thy existence, by the gods, I've swore,
To bring, by strength samfonian, to the ground!
For know, that giants should with giants vie,
And such art thou, magnanimous and proud,
Disdaining all who give thy works the lie,
And spurning those who've threaten'd vengeance loud.
And such art thou, magnanimous and proud,
Disdaining all who give thy works the lie,
And spurning those who've threaten'd vengeance loud.
Say, shall thy haughty and indignant quill
Hurl barbed shafts, speak Reputation's death?
No! I'll annihilate thy savage will,
And stop the course of thy infectious breath!
Hurl barbed shafts, speak Reputation's death?
No! I'll annihilate thy savage will,
And stop the course of thy infectious breath!
xxvi
The fires of Ætna shall awhile be mine,
To set thy satires in a general blaze,
And from thy ashes rebuild Folly's shrine,
That ideots may upon the structure gaze.
To set thy satires in a general blaze,
And from thy ashes rebuild Folly's shrine,
That ideots may upon the structure gaze.
Imperious tyrant, doth my threats affright
Thy yet ungovern'd and undaunted soul?
Or, rather, fill thee with renew'd delight,
Such as when Paris lovely Helen stole?
Thy yet ungovern'd and undaunted soul?
Or, rather, fill thee with renew'd delight,
Such as when Paris lovely Helen stole?
Yes: far eternal warfare is thy sport,
With those who will not own thy iron sway,
For monarchs fear, and queens thy graces court,
And all the Thespian tribe thy nod obey.
With those who will not own thy iron sway,
For monarchs fear, and queens thy graces court,
And all the Thespian tribe thy nod obey.
WILLIAM UPTON.
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