The Critick And The Writer Of Fables Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCBB DDDEE FFFGGHHBBIIJJ BBBBB CCBBBKKLM NNOOPQRRBB SSSTT UVV WW| Weary at last of the Pindarick way | A |
| Thro' which advent'rously the Muse wou'd stray | A |
| To Fable I descend with soft Delight | B |
| Pleas'd to Translate or easily Endite | B |
| Whilst aery Fictions hastily repair | C |
| To fill my Page and rid my Thoughts of Care | C |
| As they to Birds and Beasts new Gifts impart | B |
| And Teach as Poets shou'd whilst they Divert | B |
| - | |
| But here the Critick bids me check this Vein | D |
| Fable he crys tho' grown th' affected Strain | D |
| But dies as it was born without Regard or Pain | D |
| Whilst of his Aim the lazy Trifler fails | E |
| Who seeks to purchase Fame by childish Tales | E |
| - | |
| Then let my Verse once more attempt the Skies | F |
| The easily persuaded Poet cries | F |
| Since meaner Works you Men of Taste despise | F |
| The Walls of Troy shall be our loftier Stage | G |
| Our mighty Theme the fierce Achilles Rage | G |
| The Strength of Hector and Ulysses Arts | H |
| Shall boast such Language to adorn their Parts | H |
| As neither Hobbes nor Chapman cou'd bestow | B |
| Or did from Congreve or from Dryden flow | B |
| Amidst her Towers the dedicated Horse | I |
| Shall be receiv'd big with destructive Force | I |
| Till Men shall say when Flames have brought her down | J |
| Troy is no more and Ilium was a Town | J |
| - | |
| Is this the way to please the Men of Taste | B |
| The Interrupter cries this old Bombast | B |
| I'm sick of Troy and in as great a Fright | B |
| When some dull Pedant wou'd her Wars recite | B |
| As was soft Paris when compell'd to Fight | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| To Shades and Springs shall we awhile repair | C |
| The Muse demands and in that milder Air | C |
| Describe some gentle Swain's unhappy Smart | B |
| Whose folded Arms still press upon his Heart | B |
| And deeper drive the too far enter'd Dart | B |
| Whilst Phillis with a careless pleasure reigns | K |
| The Joy the Grief the Envy of the Plains | K |
| Heightens the Beauty of the verdant Woods | L |
| And softens all the Murmurs of the Floods | M |
| - | |
| Oh stun me not with these insipid Dreams | N |
| Th' Eternal Hush the Lullaby of Streams | N |
| Which still he cries their even Measures keep | O |
| Till both the Writers and the Readers sleep | O |
| But urge thy Pen if thou wouldst move our Thoughts | P |
| To shew us private or the publick Faults | Q |
| Display the Times High Church or Low provoke | R |
| We'll praise the Weapon as we like the Stroke | R |
| And warmly sympathizing with the Spite | B |
| Apply to Thousands what of One you write | B |
| - | |
| Then must that single Stream the Town supply | S |
| The harmless Fable writer do's reply | S |
| And all the Rest of Helicon be dry | S |
| And when so many choice Productions swarm | T |
| Must only Satire keep your Fancies warm | T |
| - | |
| Whilst even there you praise with such Reserve | U |
| As if you'd in the midst of Plenty starve | V |
| Tho' ne'er so liberally we Authors carve | V |
| - | |
| Happy the Men whom we divert with Ease | W |
| Whom Opera's and Panegyricks please | W |
Anne Kingsmill Finch
(1)
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