Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.
Let Crowds and Critics now my verse assail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail:
This more than pays whole years of thankless pain;
Time, health, and fortune are not lost in vain.
Sheffield approves, consenting Phoebus bends,
And I and Malice from this hour are friends.
Occasioned By Some Verses Of His Grace The Duke Of Buckingham
Alexander Pope
(1)
Poem topics: lost, pain, time, health, write, live, verse, labour, fortune, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< On Seeing The Ladies Crux-easton Walk In The Woods By The Grotto. Poem
The Rape Of The Lock (canto 3) Poem>>