 | Poems |  |
12
POVERTY and POETRY.
A SATIRE.
ÆTAT. 15.
'T was sung of old how one Amphion
Could, by his verses, tame a lion,
And, by his strange unchanting tunes,
Make bears and wolves dance rigadoons:
His songs could call the timber down,
And form it into house or town.
But it is plain now in these times,
No house is rais'd by poets' rhimes.
They for themselves can only rear
A few wild castles in the air.
Could, by his verses, tame a lion,
And, by his strange unchanting tunes,
Make bears and wolves dance rigadoons:
His songs could call the timber down,
And form it into house or town.
But it is plain now in these times,
No house is rais'd by poets' rhimes.
They for themselves can only rear
A few wild castles in the air.
Poor are the brethren of the bays
Down from high strains to ekes and ayes.
The muses too are virgins yet,
And may be, till they portions get.
Yet still the doating rhimer dreams,
And sings of Helicon's bright streams.
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields nothing but insipid water.
Yet, ev'n a-thirst, he sweetly sings
Of nectar, and elysian springs.
Down from high strains to ekes and ayes.
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And may be, till they portions get.
Yet still the doating rhimer dreams,
And sings of Helicon's bright streams.
But Helicon, for all his clatter,
Yields nothing but insipid water.
Yet, ev'n a-thirst, he sweetly sings
Of nectar, and elysian springs.
The grave physician, who, by physick,
Like death, dispatches him that is sick;
Pursues a sure and thriving trade:
Tho' patients die the doctor's paid.
Licens'd to kill, he gains a palace
For what another mounts a gallows.
Like death, dispatches him that is sick;
Pursues a sure and thriving trade:
Tho' patients die the doctor's paid.
Licens'd to kill, he gains a palace
For what another mounts a gallows.
In shady groves the muses play,
And love in flow'ry meads to stray:
Pleas'd with a bleaky barren ground,
Where rip'ning fruits are never found.
And love in flow'ry meads to stray:
Pleas'd with a bleaky barren ground,
Where rip'ning fruits are never found.
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But then some say you purchase fame,
And gain a never-dying name.
Great recompence for real trouble!
To be rewarded with a bubble.
And gain a never-dying name.
Great recompence for real trouble!
To be rewarded with a bubble.
Thus soldiers who, in many battles,
Get bangs, and blows, and god knows what else,
Are paid with fame, and wooden leg,
And gain a pass with leave to beg.
Get bangs, and blows, and god knows what else,
Are paid with fame, and wooden leg,
And gain a pass with leave to beg.
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