In evil hour did Pope's declining age, Deceived and dazzled by the tinsel show Of wordy science and the nauseous flow Of mean, officious flatteries, engage Thy venal quill to deck his laboured page With ribald nonsense, and permit to strew Amidst his flowers, the baleful weeds that grow In the unblessed soil of rude and rancorous rage. Yet this the avenging muse ordainéd so, When, by his counsel or weak sufferance, To thee were trusted Shakespeare's fame and fate: She doomed him down the stream of time to tow Thy foul, dirt-loaded hulk, or sink perchance, Dragged to oblivion by the foundering weight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ADVANCE GUARD by BERTON BRALEY THE MARCH OF THE GHOSTS by VINCENT GODFREY BURNS THE MARCHING FEET by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT SPECIOUS AND SUPERFICIAL WRITERS by JOHN BYROM TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. IN THE DEEP CAVE OF THE HEART by EDWARD CARPENTER |