Confound them with broad sweep of triviality—
But what’s the matter?—pain or ravishment?
Poet.
If such your service, you must be content
With other servants who will take your pay!
Shall then the bard his noblest right betray?
The right of man, which Nature’s gift imparts,
For brainless plaudits basely jest away?
What gives him power to move all hearts,
Each stubborn element to sway,