Page:The Poetical Works of Elijah Fenton (1779).djvu/73

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Epistles.
65
This Heathen logic seems to bear too hard 260
On me, and many a harmless modern bard:
The critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk the wits, and rail at all they read;
Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan,
As monkies draw their pedigree from man; 265
To which (tho' by the breed our kind 's disgrac'd)
We grant superior elegance of taste;
But in their own defence the wits observe,
That by impulse from Heav'n they write and starve;
Their patron planet with resistless pow'r 270
Irradiates ev'ry poet's natal hour,
Engend'ring in his head a solar heat,
For which the college has no sure receipt,
Else from their garrets would they soon withdraw,
And leave the rats to revel in the straw. 275
Nothing so much intoxicates the brain
As Flatt'ry's smooth insinuating bane:
She on th' unguarded ear employs her art,
While vain self-love unlocks the yielding heart;
And reason oft' submits when both invade, 280
Without assaulted, and within betray'd.
When flatt'ry's magic mists suffuse the sight,
The don is active and the boor polite;
Her mirror shews perfection thro' the whole,
And ne'er reflects a wrinkle or a mole; 285
Each character in gay confusion lies,
And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wise: