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Poem by James Maxwell 6. On L-----------------’s Poems. Another A-----sh-----e Bard A—SH—E is sure become a fruitful field, It doth such store of noble Poets yield. Lo, here’s another started up of late, That on Parnassus sure hath had his feat: He seems with Poetry so deeply fraught, He sure hath been by great Apollo taught. If of Castalia’s Well large draughts he’s ta’en, He sure hath lost it ere ho came again. His budget sure from off his back hath gone, For grammar, rhime, or reason he hath none. His brother B__ does him by far excel, And is a bolder advocate for hell. A double dialect they both have us’d, Which by them both is wretchedly abus’d. B__ he set up an advocate for hell, And to get money hath succeeded well. L_____ seems not to steer for either port, For heaven or hell; but of them both falls short: But sure at one of these he’ll land at last, Unless in purgatory he stick fast. His vessel seems so poorly fitted out, How she will fail is almost past a doubt. If she comes loaded home with mighty store, As did his brother B__ , that sail’d before, ’Twill be a wonder! Yea, it will be more____ The former won upon mankind for once, The latter stands a wretched, nasty chance. For B— hath sour’d the taste of all mankind, None else may hope e’er such success to find. Tho’ he succeeded more than e’er was known, The next may beat the bush, the birds are flown, Tho’ he got thousands with a free consent, Yet nothing did they ever more repent. For some devoted theirs unto the flame; Bumfodder also others made of them. Some turn’d to dung, and others they were burn’d, And so to dirt and ashes all were turn’d. ’Twas not by merit he obtain’d his prize, But by a false report of flatt’ring lies. Let none write poetry but poets born, Or sure they must expose themselves to scorn. Let all mind what Dean Swift had once to say, Who was a real Poet in his day. “ Tho’ this our barren clime scarce bears “A sprig of bays in fifty years; “Yet ev’ry fool his claim alledges, “As if they grew in common hedges.” James Maxwell James Maxwell's other poems:
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