English poetry

PoetsBiographiesPoems by ThemesRandom Poem
The Rating of PoetsThe Rating of Poems

Poem by James Maxwell


8. An Epitaph on L— Poems. By another Hand


Here lie the Poems of L–,
Which neither pleas’d the saint nor rake.

Which neither made us laugh nor weep;
But strange – they lull’d us fast asleep!

Dulness appear’d in every line,
Who then shall call the Bard divine?

Who e’er shall deck his brow with bays,
Or tell posterity his praise?

In dark oblivion’s blackest cave,
His stupid rhimes have found a grave:

Nor e’er shall from their cavern rise,
To snatch Fame’s bright and envied prize.

Ye Poets then all warning take,
From the sad fate of poor L–,

FINIS.



James Maxwell


James Maxwell's other poems:
  1. 6. On L-----------------’s Poems. Another A-----sh-----e Bard
  2. 7. To L-----------’s Subscribers
  3. 9. Postscript; by Way of Application
  4. 3. 1st Answer to the Foregoing. By------ HAMILTON
  5. 4. 2d Answer. By another Hand


Poem to print Print

1795 Views



Last Poems


To Russian version


Ðåéòèíã@Mail.ru

English Poetry. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru