The Authors: A Satire Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCADDEFGHIIJJ BBDDKKLLAA DDMMNNOO J OOBB PPMM QQRROOSSTTUUVVWWXXYY ZZA2A2 B2B2OOC2C2SS SD2E2E2 F2F2G2G2LLH2H2 LLDD A2A2DDI2I2D2D2JJBBLL SSDDJ2J2BBE2E2 DDK2K2L2L2LL M2M2N2N2 BBM2M2DD M2M2BBM2M2M2M2O2M2SS BBM2M2M2M2M2M2DD P2P2M2M2 M2M2SSSSM2M2BBQ2Q2 M2M2M2R2| Bright Arts abus'd like Gems receive their Flaws | A |
| Physick has Quacks and Quirks obscure the Laws | A |
| Fables to shade Historic Truths combine | B |
| And the dark Sophist dims the Text Divine | B |
| The Art of Reasoning in Religion's Cause | C |
| By Superstition's Taint a Blindness draws | A |
| The Art of Thinking Free Man's noblest Aim | D |
| Turns in Half thinking Souls his equal Shame | D |
| Colours ill mingled coarse and lifeless grow | E |
| Violins squeak when Scrapers work the Bow | F |
| Distortion deadens Action's temper'd Fire | G |
| Belab'ring Poetasters thrum the Lyre | H |
| Gesture shuns Strut and Elocution Cant | I |
| Passion lies murder'd by unmeaning Rant | I |
| Wit we debase if Ribaldry we praise | J |
| And Satire fades when Slander wears the Bays | J |
| - | |
| YOU to whose Scrolls a just Neglect is shewn | B |
| Whose Names tho' printed oft remain unknown | B |
| I war not with the Weak if wanting Fame | D |
| The Proud and Prosp'rous Trifler is my Game | D |
| With usual Wit unfelt while you assail | K |
| Remark unanswer'd and unheeded Rail | K |
| Or heeded know I can your Censure prize | L |
| For a Fool's Praise is Censure from the Wise | L |
| If then my Labour your kind Malice draws | A |
| Censure from you is from the Wise Applause | A |
| - | |
| YOU who delineate strong our Lust of Fame | D |
| These mimic Lays your kind Protection claim | D |
| My Frown like your's would to Improvement tend | M |
| You but assume the Foe to act the Friend | M |
| Pleasing yet wounding you our Faults rehearse | N |
| Strong are your Thoughts Inchanting rolls your Verse | N |
| Deep clear and sounding decent yet sincere | O |
| In Praise impartial without Spleen severe | O |
| - | |
| 'HOLD Criticks cry Erroneous are your Lays | J |
| 'Your Field was Satire your Pursuit is Praise ' | - |
| True you Profound I praise but yet I sneer | O |
| You're dark to Beauties if to Errors clear | O |
| Know my Lampoon's in Panegyric seen | B |
| For just Applause turns Satire on your Spleen | B |
| - | |
| SHALL Ignorance and Insult claim my Rage | P |
| Then with the World a gen'ral War I wage | P |
| No to some Follies Satire scorns to bend | M |
| And Worth or press'd or prosp'rous I commend | M |
| - | |
| FIRST let me view what noxious Nonsense reigns | Q |
| While yet I loiter on Prosaic Plains | Q |
| If Pens impartial active Annals trace | R |
| Others with secret Hist'ry Truth deface | R |
| Views and Reviews and wild Memoirs appear | O |
| And Slander darkens each recorded Year | O |
| Each Prince's Death to Poison they apply | S |
| No Royal Mortals sure by Nature die | S |
| Fav'rites or Kindred artful Deaths create | T |
| A Father Brother Son or Wife is Fate | T |
| In a past Reign was form'd a secret League | U |
| Some Ring or Letter now reveals th' Intrigue | U |
| A certain Earl a certain Queen enjoys | V |
| A certain Subject Fair her Peace destroys | V |
| The jealous Queen a vengeful Art assumes | W |
| And scents her Rival's Gloves with dire Perfumes | W |
| Queens with their Ladies work unseemly things | X |
| And Boys grow Dukes when Catamites to Kings | X |
| A lying Monk on Miracles refines | Y |
| And Vengeance glares from violated Shrines | Y |
| - | |
| THUS Slander o'er the Dead One's Fame prevails | Z |
| And easy Minds imbibe Romantic Tales | Z |
| Thus from feign'd Facts a false Reflection flows | A2 |
| And by Tradition Superstition grows | A2 |
| - | |
| NEXT Pamphleteers a Trade licentious drive | B2 |
| Like wrangling Lawyers they by Discord thrive | B2 |
| If Hancock proves Cold Water's Virtue clear | O |
| His Rival prints a Treatise on Warm Beer | O |
| If next Inoculation's Art spreads wide | C2 |
| An Art that mitigates Infection's Tide | C2 |
| Loud Pamphleteers 'gainst Innovation cry | S |
| Let Nature work 'Tis natural to die | S |
| - | |
| IF Heav'n born Wisdom gazing Nature thro' | S |
| Thro' Nature's Optics forms Religion's View | D2 |
| Priestcraft opposes Demonstration's Aid | E2 |
| And with dark Myst'ry dignifies her Trade | E2 |
| - | |
| IF Ruin rushes o'er a Statesman's Sway | F2 |
| Scribblers like Worms on tainted Grandeur prey | F2 |
| While a poor Felon waits th' impending Stroke | G2 |
| Voracious Scribes like hov'ring Ravens croak | G2 |
| In their dark Quills a dreary Insult lies | L |
| Th' Offence lives recent tho' th' Offender dies | L |
| In his last Words they suck his parting Breath | H2 |
| And gorge on his loath'd Memory after Death | H2 |
| - | |
| WRETCHES like these no Satire wou'd chastise | L |
| But Follies here to ruthless Insult rise | L |
| Distinguish'd Insult taints a Nation's Fame | D |
| And various Vice deserves a various Shame | D |
| - | |
| PAMPHLETS I leave sublime my Fancy grows | A2 |
| No more she sweeps the humble Vale of Prose | A2 |
| Now I trace swift the Muse's airy Clime | D |
| The Dance of Numbers and the Change of Rhime | D |
| In measur'd Rounds Imagination swims | I2 |
| And the Brain whirls with new surprizing Whims | I2 |
| Poets are mad 'tis granted So are you | D2 |
| Grave Critics who those Lunatics pursue | D2 |
| You labour Comments dry on Classic Lays | J |
| Partial alike in Censure and in Praise | J |
| Where most abstruse you most assert they shine | B |
| Where Homer raves his Allegory's fine | B |
| But if a Modern with an Ancient vies | L |
| Spirit grows Phrensy to a Wit so wise | L |
| - | |
| PHLEGM without Fire your flat Encomiums bear | S |
| When you declaim a Mark revers'd you wear | S |
| If not inspir'd at least possess'd you seem | D |
| You boil with Choler and dismiss your Phlegm | D |
| None unprefer'd in Parliament more loud | J2 |
| No worn out Fair more peevish or more proud | J2 |
| No City Dame when to the Birth Night drawn | B |
| More vain of Gems some Female Courtier's Pawn | B |
| Proud as a Judge when Equity's a Trade | E2 |
| Or Lord whose Guilt was with a Title paid | E2 |
| - | |
| MARK cautious Cinna mimic Poesy's Flame | D |
| Coarse are his Colours and obscure his Aim | D |
| Cinna thy Genius weds not with the Muse | K2 |
| No longer then thy well known Parts misuse | K2 |
| Cinna thus doctor'd stifles all he writ | L2 |
| But sneers malignant at another's Wit | L2 |
| Some beauteous Piece applauded He replies | L |
| The Sun has Spots and a wish'd Error spies | L |
| - | |
| SO some warm Lass grows pregnant e'er she marries | M2 |
| Takes Physic and for Honour's sake miscarries | M2 |
| Jealous of Praise pale Envy taints her Lip | N2 |
| And her Tongue tattles of each Virgin's Trip | N2 |
| - | |
| THEOCRITUS's Ape dry proud and vain | B |
| Shews the stiff Quaker for the simple Swain | B |
| In Tragic Scenes how soft he moves Distress | M2 |
| His Lamb like Princess in the Pure one's Dress | M2 |
| Plain in Expression and in Passion tame | D |
| Propriety of Words is all his Aim | D |
| - | |
| SCRIBLERS grow fast One who gains least Applause | M2 |
| His Works reprinting a Subscription draws | M2 |
| Ape of an Ape How is the Species grown | B |
| Inferior Apes this Ape a Viceroy own | B |
| O'er a learn'd Tribe He Grand Dictator plays | M2 |
| And points young Wits new Models in his Lays | M2 |
| Flat Odes Epistles and Translations rise | M2 |
| And a new Preface words it with the Wise | M2 |
| Art is School Trash Horace and Pope are Fool | O2 |
| Sonnets and Madrigals require no Rules | M2 |
| Milton runs rough Here plainer Lays allure | S |
| Nor Low nor Grand nor Simple nor Impure | S |
| - | |
| A Love sick Youth who sighs about Eighteen | B |
| Whines in Blank Verse and tries a Tragic Scene | B |
| One Poet damn'd turns Critick storms in Prose | M2 |
| His railing Pamphlet his wrong'd Merit shows | M2 |
| A trading Bard salutes the Lord in Place | M2 |
| Whom he insults with Satire in Disgrace | M2 |
| One jocund sings Birth Days and Nuptial Rites | M2 |
| One of the Dead a doleful Dirge recites | M2 |
| Dull as deep Bells that toll the Fun'ral's Time | D |
| Or drowzy Echoes from the Bell Man's Rhime | D |
| - | |
| A cast off Dame who of Intrigues can judge | P2 |
| Writes Scandal in Romance A Printer's Drudge | P2 |
| Flush'd with Success for Stage Renown she pants | M2 |
| And melts and swells and pens luxurious Rants | M2 |
| - | |
| BUT while her Muse a sulph'rous Flame displays | M2 |
| Glows strong with Lust or burns with Envy's Blaze | M2 |
| While some black Fiend that hugs the haggar'd Shrew | S |
| Hangs his collected Horrors on her Brow | S |
| Clio descending Angels sweep thy Lyre | S |
| Prompt thy soft Lays and breathe Seraphic Fire | S |
| Tears fall Sighs rise obedient to thy Strains | M2 |
| And the Blood dances in the mazy Veins | M2 |
| Crown'd with the Palm Bays Myrtle and the Vine | B |
| Love Pity Friendship Music Wit and Wine | B |
| In social Spirits lead thy Hours along | Q2 |
| Thou Life of Loveliness thou Soul of Song | Q2 |
| - | |
| A Blade whose Life a Turn of Humour takes | M2 |
| Cocks smart trims fine treats Harlots scours with Rakes | M2 |
| When his drain'd Purse no new Expence supplies | M2 |
| Fond Mad | R2 |
Richard Savage
(1)
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About The Authors: A Satire
The Authors: A Satire is a poem by Richard Savage. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.