And _Objects_ in a proper _Medium_ view.
'Tis _Time_ alone can _Strength_ and _Ripeness_ give;
A _Hasty Birth_ can ne'er expect to _live_.
Fly, _low_ at first, you'll with Advantage _rise_;
This _pleases_ all, as that will all _surprize_.
[Sidenote: _The Subject_.]
No _Work_ attempt but where your _Strength_ you know,
Be _Master of your Subject_, _Thoughts_ will _flow_: 300
The _newer_ 'tis, the _choicer Fruit_ 'twill yield,
More _Room_ you have to work if _large_ your _Field_;
The _Sponge_ you oftner than the _Pen_ will want,
And rather _Reason_ see to _prune_ than _plant_;
Yet where the _Thoughts_ are _barren, weak_ and _thin_,
New _Cyons_ should be neatly _grafted_ in.
[Sidenote: _A Judge_.]
If you with _Friend_ or _Enemy_ are blest,
Your _Fancy's Offspring_ ne'er can want a _Test_,
Tho _Both_, perhaps may _overshoot_ the _Mark_:
First _Spite_ with _Envy_ charges in the _Dark_; 310
_Unread_ they _damn_, and into _Passion_ fall,
'Tis _Stuff_, 'tis _Blasphemy_ 'tis _Nonsense_ all;
They _sleep_ (when _doz'd before_) at every _Line_, }
While your more _dang'rous Friend_ exclaims,--'Tis fine, }
'Tis _furiously Delightful_, 'tis _Divine_; }
Th' _inspiring God's_ in ev'ry Page confess'd;
A COWLEY or a DRYDEN at the least!
Yet you'll from _both_ an _equal Judgment_ frame
And stand the _nearest Candidate_ for _Fame_:
What _Envy praises_, or what _Friends dislike_, 320
This bears the _Test_, and that the _Sponge_ should strike.