Another scorns the home-spun threed of rimes, Match'd with the loftie feet of elder times: Giue him the numbred verse that @3Virgil@1 sung, And @3Virgil@1 selfe shall speake the English tongue: @3Manhood & garboiles shall he chaunt@1 with changed feete, And head-strong @3Dactils@1 making musicke meete, The nimble @3Dactils@1 striuing to out-goe The drawling @3Spondees@1 pacing it below. The lingring @3Spondees,@1 labouring to delay, The breath-lesse @3Dactils@1 with a sudden stay. Who euer saw a colt wanton and wilde, Yok'd with a slow-foote Oxe on fallow field, Can right areed how handsomly besets Dull @3Spondees@1 with the English @3Dactilets?@1 If @3Ioue@1 speake English in a thundring cloud, @3Thwick thwack,@1 and @3rif raf,@1 rores he out aloud. Fie on the forged mint that did create New coyne of words neuer articulate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST A WINTRY LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA THE BOOK OF LOS by WILLIAM BLAKE |