Far other scenes my timid hour admits,
Relentless critics, and avenging wits;
E'en coxcombs take a licence from their pen,
And to each "let-him-perish" cry Amen!
And thus, with wits or fools my heart shall cry,
For if they please not, let the trifles die—
Die, and be lost in dark oblivion's shore,
And never rise to vex their author more.
350
I would not dream o'er some soft liquid line,