Begone ye Criticks, and restrain your Spite, Codrus writes on, and will for ever write; The heaviest Muse the swiftest Course has gone, As Clocks run fastest when most Lead is on. What tho' no Bees around your Cradle flew, Nor on your Lips distill'd their golden Dew? Yet have we oft discover'd in their stead, A Swarm of Drones, that buzz'd about your Head. When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling Lyre, Attentive Blocks stand round you, and admire. Wit, past thro' thee, no longer is the same, As Meat digested takes a diff'rent Name; But Sense must sure thy safest Plunder be, Since no Reprizals can be made on thee. Thus thou may'st Rise, and in thy daring Flight (Tho' ne'er so weighty) reach a wondrous height; So, forc'd from Engines, Lead it self can fly, And pondrous Slugs move nimbly thro' the Sky. Sure Bavius copy'd Moevius to the full, And Choerilus taught Codrus to be dull; Therefore, dear Friend, at my Advice give o'er This needless Labour, and contend no more, To prove a dull Succession to be true, Since 'tis enough we find it so in You. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE MAID'S LAMENT; ELIZABETHAN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A MOUNTAIN SOUL (KATHARINE COMAN) by KATHARINE LEE BATES HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 19 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 7 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |