Poetics Or, a series of poems, and disquisitions on poetry. By George Dyer |
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XVIII. | ODE XVIII. TO A LADY, WHO HAD RALLIED THE AUTHOR
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Poetics | ||
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ODE XVIII. TO A LADY, WHO HAD RALLIED THE AUTHOR IN THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE, FOR HIS REJECTION OF TITLES.
Yes! things that are old, and some things that are new,
I love and I hate; yet I play you no trick:
I like an old friend, and I own I like you;
But I hate the new tax, and still more old Nick.
I love and I hate; yet I play you no trick:
I like an old friend, and I own I like you;
But I hate the new tax, and still more old Nick.
But you like old things, because they are old,
The church so believes, and so you believe;
Then I vow by the church, my faith you should hold;
For mine is as ancient as Adam and Eve.
The church so believes, and so you believe;
Then I vow by the church, my faith you should hold;
For mine is as ancient as Adam and Eve.
But Adam, like Nick, is too old: then, dear friend,
Pray take up your Bible, and read it right on;
And what can you find from beginning to end,
But Adam, and Sarah, Ruth, Mary, and John?
Pray take up your Bible, and read it right on;
And what can you find from beginning to end,
But Adam, and Sarah, Ruth, Mary, and John?
So you see I here at least square with the church;
A church old enough, too, not wanton in youth;
Nor think that he'll leave an old friend in the lurch,
Who sticks to his oldest, his best friend, dame Truth.
A church old enough, too, not wanton in youth;
Nor think that he'll leave an old friend in the lurch,
Who sticks to his oldest, his best friend, dame Truth.
Poetics | ||