Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A POEM. OR ADVICE TO AUTHORS OF SATIRICAL POEM, UPON TOM PUNSIBI, by SAMUEL OWENS



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
A POEM. OR ADVICE TO AUTHORS OF SATIRICAL POEM, UPON TOM PUNSIBI, by            
First Line: Ye sons of levi, church divines
Last Line: Touch not the fiddle nor the drum.
Subject(s): Sheridan, Thomas (1687-1738); Tisdall, William (1669-1735)


Ye Sons of Levi, Church Divines,
Give ear to these my feeble lines;
Accept the same, as from a friend,
And pardon what I here intend,
Which does set forth you are to blame.
It's time to speak when all cry shame
For men of learning and the gown
To expose each other round the town;
In public print with odious words.
More cutting sure than fencers' swords;
A bright divine is termed a pig,
Then called silly face for Jig --
But sure they had better called him Whig.
Too harsh a discord, for a fiddle
Dulls all the music, mean or trible.
T' other's formed dissenting teacher
That he might better pelt the preacher,
And so falls foul upon Jett Black.
Are these the wits? True wit they lack,
And be't spoken under the rose,
The satire's S----t's; it's sure his prose,
As plain appears by his just charge
Against the D-----r drawn at large,
But D-----n, O D-----n, a rhyme for Graecum
Is what you hold an empty vacuum.
Let what I've said, I pray, suffice,
And if it won't here's more advice:
Desist such idle way of clashing --
Satire, pun, lampooning, lashing.
Choose virtue's paths therein to walk;
Let some great topic be your talk.
New sermons make in your spare hours,
Adorned with rhetoric's sweetest flowers.
Strive who each other shall excel
In seeking Heaven and shunning Hell,
In knowing God the chief great cause,
And you that teach, don't break his laws.
But if you say all this you know
(I'm sure you're wrong, you can't say no),
Then view the orbs and earth below.
From Arctic to Antarctic pole,
Easting and westing o'er it roll --
Your thoughts I mean. Let it take flight;
Survey those parts that's hid from sight;
Try whether space be infinite.
Compose a book of something new;
There's many divines, but very few
Take Gordon's, Fiddes', or Durham's pains,
Or in the least disturb their brains
To show the meaning of those texts
Which might convert Socinian sects.
Or study Nature's different parts.
For to improve our curious arts.
O, this is what I'd recommend:
Had I your income, time I'd spend;
This way to it, sure I'd incline --
To search things natural, moral and divine.

N. B. Henceforth keep silence, and be mum;
Touch not the fiddle nor the drum.





Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net