ODE XXXIII.
[Oh, doe not breath too loud; though greife sometimes]
1
Oh, doe not breath too loud; though greife sometimes
In rude Expressions, and disordred Rhimes
Appeare;
It is not safe to sigh, too loud, when wee
Deplore, such tender Cases; Poesie
Must here
Curbe her free Qvill, and couch a big intent
In the darke folds of a faigned Argument.
2
But Danger onlie gvilt attends; I bring
White Thoughts, and never learnéd how to sing
Of more
Then Truth and Iustice in each Line might seale;
Vnbyasséd with Spleene, or too much Zeale.
How poore
Should I my selfe account! Had I bene swaied,
By these fraile Passions, this or that t' have said!
3
Then may I boldly vtter my free Thought;
And to the Age, poure all my Bosome out.
I will
Noe longer Swell and pinch my throbbing brest,
With ffears and Fancies, to my owne vnrest.
Poor Qvill!
Yet thou art free, and Iust to all my Care;
I am befreinded Still to have thee neare.
4
And though, perhaps, I privilie expresse
The summe of all my Thoughts, when nothing lesse
Is read;
I write what I intend, and rather Chuse
Such Intricacies; though not soe abstruse
As need
An Index to informe me what the Ayme
Was, when I laied the plott or raised the frame.
