Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/368

326 Bowles! in thy memory let this precept dwell,

Stick to thy Sonnets, Man!—at least they sell.

But if some new-born whim, or larger bribe,

Prompt thy crude brain, and claim thee for a scribe:

If 'chance some bard, though once by dunces feared,

Now, prone in dust, can only be revered;

If Pope, whose fame and genius, from the first,

Have foiled the best of critics, needs the worst,

Do thou essay: each fault, each failing scan;

The first of poets was, alas! but man.

Rake from each ancient dunghill ev'ry pearl,

Consult Lord Fanny, and confide in ;

Let all the scandals of a former age

Perch on thy pen, and flutter o'er thy page;

Affect a candour which thou canst not feel,

Clothe envy in the garb of honest zeal;

Write, as if St. John's soul could still inspire,

And do from hate what did for hire.

Oh! hadst thou lived in that congenial time,

To rave with, and with to rhyme;