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Tixall Poetry.
'Tis odds, but in that scanty room,
Thou robb'st another of his tomb;
Or, in thy delving, smit'st upon
A shin-bone, or a cranion!
Thou robb'st another of his tomb;
Or, in thy delving, smit'st upon
A shin-bone, or a cranion!
The Immortality of Poesie.
To Envy.
Ovid. Amor. Lib. I. Eleg. 15.
Envy, how dar'st thou say that I in vain
Have spent my years, or with false names profane
The sacred product of my fertile brain?
Have spent my years, or with false names profane
The sacred product of my fertile brain?
'Tis true, in th' art of war I am not skill'd,
No trophies did I e'er attempt to build,
By gaining grinning honour in the field.
No trophies did I e'er attempt to build,
By gaining grinning honour in the field.
