Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry (1700) and the Essay on Heroic Poetry (second edition, 1697) by Samuel Wesley
page 44 of 85 (51%)
page 44 of 85 (51%)
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She _painted_ and she _dress'd_, those _Arts_ she knew,
And to her _self_ her self a _Stranger_ grew, (Thus _old_ and batter'd _Bawds_ behind the Scenes, New _rigg'd_ and _dawb'd_, pass on the _Stage_ for _Queens_;) Nor yet, she cries, of _Britain_ we'll _despair_ } I've yet some _trusty Friends_ in _Ambush_ there, } All is not lost, we've still the _Theatre_: } I'll batter _Virtue_ thence, nor fear to gain } New _Subjects daily_ from her _hated Reign_; } Is not Great _D----_ ours and all his _Train_? } He knows he has new _Laurels_ here prepar'd, } 890 For those he lost _above_, a just Reward, } For his wide _Conquests_ he'll _command the Guard_: } _Headed_ by him one _Foot_ we'll scorn to yield, Tho _Virtue's_ glitt'ring _Squadrons_ drive the _Field_: Grant me, Dread _Sov'reign_! a _Detachment_ hence } We'll not be long alone on our _Defence_, } But hope to drive the proud _Assailants_ thence. } Bold _Blasphemy_ shall lead our black _Forlorn_, With _Colours_ from _Heav'n's Crystal Ramparts_ torn, And _Anti-Thunderrs_ arm'd; _Profaneness_ next 900 Their _Canon_ seize, and turn the _Sacred Text_ Against th' _Assailants_; brave _Revenge_ and _Rage_ Shall our _main Batt'ry_ ply, and guard the _Stage_. --But most I on dear _Ribaldry_ depend, We've not a _surer_ or a _stronger Friend_. Now shall she _broad_ and _open_ to the Skie, Now _close_ behind some _double Meaning_ lye; Now with _sulphureous Rivers_ lave the _French_, And choak th' _Assailants_ with infernal _Stench_; |
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