Poesis Rediviva | ||
On Homer.
Homer , who seem'd to want the eyes of's mind,Must now give light, in his own age was blind.
Some did his Iliads to a nutshel fit;
A Cherystone might have confin'd the wit.
The Gods know all; wise men sleep not all night,
One man must govern; many can't do right.
To expresse drums, and trumpets verse is fit,
Yet knew no part of th' war of which he writ.
Ος εφαι οι δ'εγεροντο θεοι κατα χαλκοβατες δω.
A warlike tone, might children fright 'bove too.
Some Poets paint, licking what he did spew,
Vomits must need be filth; 'tis strangely true.
By the beam of light whom Plato could traduce,
Shall we in th' Gospels Sunshine love his use?
Petavius Psalms, a Nonnus, Duports Job,
For th' Sanctuary who heathenism disrobe,
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Let these impressions make on tender mold.
Can Egypts garlick, we or onyons need?
On th' milk of th' word can't our youth better feed?
Poesis Rediviva | ||