SATIRE.
Prepare for rhyme—I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. LORD BYRON.
Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
To the Imitator of the first Satire of Horace. Bk. II.
LADY M.W. MONTAGU.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
Second Book of Horace. A. POPE.
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel,
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
Satires: Prologue. A. POPE.