 | Poems on several occasions |  |
75
THE Poet's Resentment;
OCCASION'D BY Some Persons doubting the Author's Capacity, and denying him the Credit of his own Works.
Resign thy Pipe! thy wonted Lays forego;
The Muse is now become thy greatest Foe:
With Taunts and Jeers, and most unfriendly Wrongs,
The flouting Rabble pay thee for thy Songs.
Untuneful is our Native Language now;
Nor must the Bays adorn a British Brow:
The wanton Vulgar scorn their Mother-Tongue,
And all our home-bred Bards have bootless sung.
A false Politeness has possess'd the Isle,
And ev'ry Thing that's English is Old Stile.
The Muse is now become thy greatest Foe:
With Taunts and Jeers, and most unfriendly Wrongs,
The flouting Rabble pay thee for thy Songs.
Untuneful is our Native Language now;
Nor must the Bays adorn a British Brow:
76
And all our home-bred Bards have bootless sung.
A false Politeness has possess'd the Isle,
And ev'ry Thing that's English is Old Stile.
Ev'n Heav'n-born Purcel now is held in Scorn,
Purcel! who did a brighter Age adorn.
That Nobleness of Soul, that Martial Fire,
Which did our British Orpheus once inspire
To rouze us all to Arms, is quite forgot;
We aim at something—but we know not what:
Effeminate in Dress, in Manners grown,
We now despise whatever is our Own.
Purcel! who did a brighter Age adorn.
That Nobleness of Soul, that Martial Fire,
Which did our British Orpheus once inspire
To rouze us all to Arms, is quite forgot;
We aim at something—but we know not what:
Effeminate in Dress, in Manners grown,
We now despise whatever is our Own.
So
Rome, when famous once for Arts and Arms,
(Betray'd by Luxury's enfeebling Charms)
Sunk into Softness, and its Empire lost;
We may be as refin'd, but to our Cost!
(Betray'd by Luxury's enfeebling Charms)
Sunk into Softness, and its Empire lost;
We may be as refin'd, but to our Cost!
77
Then break thy Reed, for ever close thy Throat;
Nor dare to sing a Line, or pen a Note:
Since any other Man shall meet with Praise,
For what, from thee, will but Derision raise.
Determin'd to condemn thy ev'ry Deed,
Thy Foes have vow'd, and thou shalt not succeed.
Nor dare to sing a Line, or pen a Note:
Since any other Man shall meet with Praise,
For what, from thee, will but Derision raise.
Determin'd to condemn thy ev'ry Deed,
Thy Foes have vow'd, and thou shalt not succeed.
Go, seek Retirement, learn to be obscure;
The Wretch that's least observ'd is most secure:
Dost thou write ill, then all against thee join:
Dost thou write well, they swear 'tis none of thine.
Short liv'd Applause is stifled soon as born,
While Nought subsists but Envy, Censure, Scorn.
The Jest of Coxcombs ev'ry Fool's Disdain;
These, these, are the Rewards of Poet's Pain.
Far, far away, then chase the Harlot Muse,
Nor let her thus thy Noon of Life abuse:
Be busy, know no Joy, but solid Pelf;
And wisely care for no Man but thy self:
Mix with the common Croud, unheard, unseen,
And be thy only Aim, the golden Mean:
And if again thou tempt'st the vulgar Praise,
May'st thou be crown'd with Birch instead of Bays.
The Wretch that's least observ'd is most secure:
Dost thou write ill, then all against thee join:
Dost thou write well, they swear 'tis none of thine.
Short liv'd Applause is stifled soon as born,
While Nought subsists but Envy, Censure, Scorn.
The Jest of Coxcombs ev'ry Fool's Disdain;
These, these, are the Rewards of Poet's Pain.
Far, far away, then chase the Harlot Muse,
Nor let her thus thy Noon of Life abuse:
78
And wisely care for no Man but thy self:
Mix with the common Croud, unheard, unseen,
And be thy only Aim, the golden Mean:
And if again thou tempt'st the vulgar Praise,
May'st thou be crown'd with Birch instead of Bays.
| Poems on several occasions | |