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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HUDIBRAS AND MILTON RECONCILED; TO SIR ADOLPHUS OUGHTON, by WILLIAM SOMERVILE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Dear knight, how great a drudge is he / who would excel in poetry Last Line: Let a great ft, and went to bed. Alternate Author Name(s): Somerville, William Subject(s): Milton, John (1608-1674) | |||
DEAR Knight, how great a drudge is he Who would excel in poetry! And yet how few have learnt the art To inform the head, or touch the heart! Some, with a dry and barren brain, Poor rogues! like costive lapdogs strain; While others with a flux of wit, The reader and their friends besht. Would you (Sir Knight) my judgement know? He still writes worst who writes so-so, In this the mighty secret lies: To elevate, and to surprise. Thus far my pen at random run; The fire was out, the clock struck one. When lo! strange hollow murmurs from without Invade my ears. In ev'ry quarter roused, The warring winds rush from their rocky caves Tumultuous; the vapours dank or dry, Beneath their standards ranged, with low'ring front Darken the welkin. At each dreadful shock Oaks, pines and elms down to their mother earth Bend low their suppliant heads. The nodding tow'rs Menace destruction, and old Edrick's house From its foundation shakes. The bellying clouds Burst into rain, or gild their sable skirts With flakes of ruddy fire; fierce elements In ruin reconciled! redoubled peals Of ceaseless thunder roar. Convulsions rend The firmament. The whole creation stands Mute and appalled, and trembling waits its doom. And now perhaps (dear friend) you wonder, In this dread scene of wind, rain, thunder, What a poor guilty wretch could do. Then hear (for, faith, I tell you true), I pissed, thrice shook my giddy head, Let a great ft, and went to bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 22. MILTON IN AGE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES PARADISE LOST, BOOK 5. AN EPITOME by ANTHONY HECHT THE SNOWFLAKE WHICH IS NOW AND HENCE FOREVER by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH TO THE GHOST OF JOHN MILTON by CARL SANDBURG THE PROGRESS OF POESY; A PINDARIC ODE by THOMAS GRAY ON NOT BEING MILTON by TONY HARRISON MILTON'S PRAYER [OF PATIENCE, OR, IN BLINDNESS] by ELIZABETH LLOYD HOWELL AN ADDRESS TO HIS ELBOW CHAIR, NEW CLOTHED by WILLIAM SOMERVILE PRESENTING TO A LADY A WHITE ROSE AND A RED, ON 10TH OF JUNE by WILLIAM SOMERVILE |
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