The Muse should be sprightly, Yet not handling lightly Things grave; as much loath, Things that be slight, to cloath Curiously: To retayne The Comelinesse in meane, Is true Knowledge and Wit. Nor me forc'd Rage doth fit, That I thereto should lacke Tabacco, or need Sacke, Which to the colder Braine Is the true @3Hyppocrene@1; Nor did I ever care For great Fooles, nor them spare. Vertue, though neglected, Is not so dejected, As vilely to descend To low Basenesse their end; Neyther each ryming Slave Deserves the Name to have Of Poet: so the Rabble Of Fooles, for the Table, That have their Jests by Heart, As an Actor his Part, Might assume them Chayres Amongst the Muses Heyres. @3Parnassus@1 is not clome By every such Mome; Up whose steepe side who swerves, It behoves t'have strong Nerves: My Resolution such, How well, and not how much To write, thus doe I fare, Like some few good that care (The evill sort among) How well to live, and not how long. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES by CHARLES LAMB EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG by ALEXANDER POPE WINTER MOUNTAIN by MARIANA BACHMAN THE CHRISTENING OF THE STADIUM by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE FOURE MONARCHIES: ASSYRIAN. SEMIRAMIS by ANNE BRADSTREET AMERICAN CRADLE SONG by ROBERT JONES BURDETTE |