Sir Inigo doth fear it as I hear (And labours to seem worthy of that fear) That I should write upon him some sharp verse, Able to eat into his bones and pierce The marrow! Wretch, I'quit thee of thy pain. Th'art too ambitious: and dost fear in vain! The Lybian lion hunts no butterflies, He makes the camel and dull ass his prize. If thou be so desirous to be read, Seek out some hungry painter, that for bread, With rotten chalk, or coal upon a wall, Will well design thee, to be viewed of all That sit upon the common draught: or Strand! Thy forehead is too narrow for my brand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IF by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS ONLY A WOMAN by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK BABY RUNNING BAREFOOT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE MOUNTAIN STORM by FRANCES DAVIS ADAMS OUR CLUB by SYLVIA DILLAVOU BARCLAY |