Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/463

Rh Nor will Melpomene ascend her Throne

Without high heels, white plume, and Bristol stone.

Old Comedies still meet with much applause,

Though too licentious for dramatic laws;

At least, we moderns, wisely, 'tis confest,

Curtail, or silence, the lascivious jest.

Whate'er their follies, and their faults beside,

Our enterprising Bards pass nought untried;

Nor do they merit slight applause who choose

An English subject for an English Muse,

And leave to minds which never dare invent

French flippancy and German sentiment.

Where is that living language which could claim

Poetic more, as philosophic, fame,

If all our Bards, more patient of delay,

Would stop, like Pope, to polish by the way?

Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults

O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults,