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"Soft, soft my friend, go ask some brib'd Review,"And then to Fame's third Heav'n the Bard pursue."Oh, if another Judge, of spotless name, "Could try his merits and award his fame; "Could Flaccus wake from Death's unbroken sleep, "The Judge would laugh—the Modern Bard would weep." Thus train'd in doctrines of th' exploded school, I judg'd of modern song by ancient rule. If Horace told me, that the verse should flow Concise and clear, I thought it must be so. If he advis'd, to choose each theme with care, As genius prompts, or as our strength will bear; The man, who scarce a birthday ode could frame, Yet dar'd an epic, was, I thought, to blame.
