Sir Inigo doth fear it as I hear (And labours to seem worthy of that fear) That I should write upon him some sharp verse, Able to eat into his bones and pierce The marrow! Wretch, I'quit thee of thy pain. Th'art too ambitious: and dost fear in vain! The Lybian lion hunts no butterflies, He makes the camel and dull ass his prize. If thou be so desirous to be read, Seek out some hungry painter, that for bread, With rotten chalk, or coal upon a wall, Will well design thee, to be viewed of all That sit upon the common draught: or Strand! Thy forehead is too narrow for my brand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECHOES: 9 by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE BELLS OF LYNN; HEARD AT NAHANT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AFTER DEATH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE SPELL OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE MY BEAUTIFUL LADY by THOMAS WOOLNER STRANGE FILAMENT by LILLIAN M. (PETTES) AINSWORTH EVENING MUSIC by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |