IN the first days of this Review, When Griffith, ay, and Madam, too, From the old Dunciad in the Row Instructed folk how they should go, 'Tis rumoured that they kept confined And cabined in some room behind A queer slow-witted, stuttering rogue, An usher, with an Irish brogue, Who, working then for Grub-Street pay, Yet lived to write one perfect play That still is played; to tell a tale Still, as the book-stalls show, on sale; And write, besides, some verse of note That still old-fashioned persons quote. Full well, I wot, Sir, your domain No such back-parlour could contain; Sure, too, am I you would not choose The Dunciad for your sign to use; But still I trust that you may light Upon some genius who will write Plain-spoken things, and unperplext, That we may read this year and next, Though they should fail to last as long As GOLDSMITH'S play and tale and song! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABOVE AND WITHIN by DAVID IGNATOW ODE TO SIMPLICITY by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW A BALLAD OF HELL by JOHN DAVIDSON THE BOATMAN OF KINSALE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS |