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Poems

By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes

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Nor ever be it thine, correctly-dull,
To weary judgment by the meagre speech
Creeping in all the penury of words;
Whose humble merit scarce o'ershoots the mark
Of base vulgarity. And shun details,
And each prolix discussion; too remote
From the main objects of thy proper sphere,
To interest or instruct. Thus, heedless, oft,
Of yawning somnolence diffus'd around,
The speaker by political harangues

120

Fatigues his audience; whilst of Russia's wealth
He talks, perhaps his travels to display.
Then heed not systems never doom'd to prove
The touchstone of experience; but address
The judgment's keen perception, that delights
In the full force of nervous argument,
Tho' solid yet not tedious; tho' arrang'd
In order, from apparent art averse.