The Modern PoetFor your words and others.
Release 15
Always tinkering.

I use this place too. I keep finding things to add, change, or make a little better.

Latest check: 1,242 passed. Regular checks, ongoing improvements.

This round: quieter reading, book-style chapters, and one HH throughout.

THE MODERN POET

To the Author of a Poem Entitled Successio

By Alexander Pope

Begone, ye critics, and restrain your spite, Codrus writes on, and will for ever write. The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has gone, As clocks run fastest when most lead is on; What though no bees around your cradle flew, Nor on your lips distill'd the golden dew, Yet have we oft discover'd in their stead A swarm of drones that buzz'd about your head. When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre, Attentive blocks stand round you and admire. Wit pass'd through thee no longer is the same, As meat digested takes a different name, But sense must sure thy safest plunder be, Since no reprisals can be made on thee. Thus thou may'st rise, and in thy daring flight (Though ne'er so weighty) reach a wondrous height. So, forced from engines, lead itself can fly, And ponderous slugs move nimbly through the sky. Sure Bavius copied Maevius to the full, And Chaerilus taught Codrus to be dull; Therefore, dear friend, at my advice give o'er This needless labour; and contend no more To prove a _dull succession_ to be true, Since 'tis enough we find it so in you.

Original source ↗

Poetry data from PoetryDB, curated by The Combed Thunderclap · metadata CC BY 4.0 · Public-domain poem text (USA)

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