Volume 3 — SONNET XVI. TRANSLATED FROM BOILEAU.

Apollo, at his crowded altars, tired Of votaries, who for trite ideas thrown Into loose verse, assume, in lofty tone, The Poet’s name, untaught, and uninspir’d, Indignant struck the Lyre.—Straight it acquired New powers, and complicate. Then first was known The rigorous Sonnet, to be framed alone By duteous bards, or by just taste admir’d.— Go, energetic Sonnet, go, he cried, And be the test of skill!—For rhymes that flow Regardless of thy rules, their destin’d guide, Yet take thy name, ah! let the boasters know That with strict sway my jealous laws preside, While I no wreaths on rebel verse bestow.