The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 6 by Lord Byron
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page 17 of 1010 (01%)
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The fame you envy, and the skill you need;
And, recollect, a poet nothing loses In giving to his brethren their full meed Of merit--and complaint of present days Is not the certain path to future praise. IX. He that reserves his laurels for posterity (Who does not often claim the bright reversion) Has generally no great crop to spare it, he Being only injured by his own assertion; And although here and there some glorious rarity Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion, The major part of such appellants go To--God knows where--for no one else can know. X. If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues,[6] Milton appealed to the Avenger, Time, If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs, And makes the word "Miltonic" mean "_Sublime_," _He_ deigned not to belie his soul in songs, Nor turn his very talent to a crime; _He_ did not loathe the Sire to laud the Son, But closed the tyrant-hater he begun. XI. |
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