Where rapid fortunes have been lost and gained; Where nature asks no grand mechanics art To till the ground, to cheer the poor man's heart, The earth which yields from her all bounteous hand, In parts 'tis beautiful, but not sublime, Somewhere what vacant minds would name as stuff. Often historical, unmixed with lies, Which scanned, says Bacon, makes the scholar, wise; Sometimes poetical, but prosy matter, Pedantic often to prolong the chatter Throughout instructive in the first degree No thoughts curtailed, the author's "Fancy free." And cause him wish the light to linger still. Such is its power, and from my heart I tell it. "Blame where you must, be candid where you can And be each critic, a good natured man." POLYPHILUS.. 85 |