 | Divine Fancies |  |
100. To my Booke .
Here comes a Criticke; Close thy Page:Thou art no Subject for this Age:
And censure, oftentimes, yee know,
Will strike the Dove, and spare the Crow:
But hold; Thy Guilt does not require
That thou shouldst lurke, or yet retyre;
Be open as the Eye of Noone:
And let Dogs barke against the Moone:
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But what's deriv'd from Heav'n alone:
Feare not: Thy Heav'n-instructed Page,
Will either please, or teach the Age.
| Divine Fancies | |