OF ENGLISH VERSE.
Reading edition
1 Poets may boast, as safely vain, Their works shall with the world remain: Both, bound together, live or die, The verses and the prophecy.
2 But who can hope his line should long Last in a daily changing tongue? While they are new, envy prevails; And as that dies, our language fails.
3 When architects have done their part, The matter may betray their art; Time, if we use ill-chosen stone, Soon brings a well-built palace down.
4 Poets that lasting marble seek, Must carve in Latin, or in Greek; We write in sand, our language grows, And like the tide, our work o'erflows.
5 Chaucer his sense can only boast; The glory of his numbers lost! Years have defaced his matchless strain; And yet he did not sing in vain.
6 The beauties which adorn'd that age, The shining subjects of his rage, Hoping they should immortal prove, Rewarded with success his love.
7 This was the gen'rous poet's scope; And all an English pen can hope, To make the fair approve his flame, That can so far extend their fame.
8 Verse, thus design'd, has no ill fate, If it arrive but at the date Of fading beauty; if it prove But as long-lived as present love.