Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends, And thou shalt live; for Buckingham commends. Let crowds of criticks now my verse assail, Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail: This more than pays whole years of thankless pain; Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain. Sheffield approves, consenting Phoebus bends, And I and Malice from this hour are friends. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARAB TO HIS FAVORITE STEED by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON FABLE; ROME, 1875 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE DROWNED HIDALGO DREAMS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET EVENING MYSTERY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE CROSSING AT FREDERICKSBURG by GEORGE HENRY BOKER AN EPITAPH ON HIM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |