@3Neither buskin now, nor bays Challenge I: a Lady's praise Shall content my proudest hope. Their applause was all my scope; And to their shrines properly Revels dedicated be: Whose soft ears none ought to pierce But with smooth and gentle verse. Let the tragic poem swell, Raising raging fiends from hell; And let epic dactyls range Swelling seas and countries strange: Little room small things contains; Easy praise quits easy pains. Suffer them whose brows do sweat To gain honour by the great: It's enough if men me name A retailer of such fame.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THAT VAGRANT MISTRAL VEXING THE SUN: A FAR CRY by DARA WIER A MODEST WIT by SELLECK OSBORNE SONG OF SEID NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN by AMIR NURU'D-DIN NI'MATU'LLAH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 23 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PRAYER OF A SPORTSMAN by BERTON BRALEY EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, THE LAIRD OF BOGHEAD by ROBERT BURNS |