Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams

The Sound Must Seem An Echo To The Sense.

Bear, Like The Turk, No Brother Near The Throne.

Who Combats Bravely Is Not Therefore Brave, He Dreads A Death-bed Like The Meanest Slave: Who Reasons Wisely Is Not Therefore Wise,- His Pride In Reasoning, Not In Acting Lies.

At Every Trifle Take Offense, That Always Shows Great Pride Or Little Sense.

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!