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Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry (1700) and the Essay on Heroic Poetry (second edition, 1697) by Samuel Wesley
page 44 of 85 (51%)
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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