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 This to prevent, consult your words; and know How far their strength, extent, and nature go. To all their charges, and their labors fit; To all, their sev'ral provinces of wit. Without this care, the poem will abound With empty noise, and impotence of sound; Unmeaning terms will crowd in ev'ry part, Delude the ear, but never reach the heart. Yet would I sometimes venture to disperse Some words, whose splendor should adorn my verse; (Words, that to wit and thought have no pretence, And rather vehicles of sound than sense;) Till in the gorgeous dress the lines appear, And court with gentle harmony the ear. Nor with too fond a care such words pursue, They meet your sight, and rise in ev'ry view. Oft, from its chains the shackled verse unloose, And give it liberty to walk in prose; Renew the poem with unweary'd pain, Bind and cement the shatter'd parts again; The lurking faults and errors you may see, When the words run unmanacled and free.