Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/278

thus she addressed herself: "Go on, my son, in whom I am renewed, and prosper in thy brave undertakings on mankind: assert their wit to be dulness; prove their sense to be folly; know truth only when it is on thy own side; and acknowledge learning at no other time to be useful. Spare not an author of any rank or size; let not thy tongue or pen know pity; make the living feel thy accusations; make the ghosts of the dead groan in their tombs for their violated fame. But why do I spend time in needless advice, which may be better used in encouragement? Let thy eyes delight themselves with the future recompense which I have reserved for thy merit." Thus spoke the monster, and shrieked the name of Zoilus. The shades, who were to bear the same name after him, became obedient, and the mouth of the cave was filled with strange supercilious countenances, which all crowded to make their appearance. These began to march before him with an imitation of his mien and manners: some crowned with wild sorrel, others having leaves of dead bays mingled amongst it; whilst the monster still described them as he passed, and touched each with a livid track of malignant light, that shot from her eye, to point where she meant the description. "They (says she) in the chaplets of wild sorrel, are my writers of prose, who erect scandal into criticism: they who wear the withered bay with it, are such who write poems, which are professedly to answer all rules, and be left for