Page:Vida's Art of Poetry.djvu/98

 Now, regal palaces, of wond'rouswondrous [sic] size, With brazen beams, on Parian columns rise, That heave the pompous fabrick to the skies. But other writers sprinkle here and there These bolder beauties with a frugal care; So vast a freedom is allow'd to none; But suits the labours of the bard alone; Who in the laws of verse himself restrains, Ty'dTied [sic] up to time in voluntary chains. Others, by no restraint or stop with-heldwithheld [sic], May range the compass of a wider field; The sacred poets, who their labours fill With pleasing fictions, or with truths at will, Their thoughts in bolder liberties express, Which look more beauteous in a foreign dress. To all, unusual colours they impart, Nor blush, if e'er detected in their art.


 * beyond the bounds of truth they fly,

And boldly lift their subject to the sky;