A
Pindarick ODE
In the Praise of
Folly and Knavery.
I.
My humble Muse no Hero Sings,
Nor Acts, nor Funerals of Kings:
The great Maria now no more,
In Sable Lines she does deplore;
Of mighty William's growing fame,
At present must forget the name,
Yet she affects something that is sublime,
And would in Dytherambick strain }
Attempt to rise, and now disdain
The Shrubs and Furzes of the Plain:
He that's afraid to fall, shou'd ne'r pretend to climb.
II.
Let others boast of potent Wit,
And Summon in the awful Nine,
With all their Aids of Fancy, Humor, Sence,
Fair polish'd Learning, Eloquence,
And call their gawdy works Divine:
Hov'ring above my Head let dullness sit,
The only God that's worshipp'd by the Age;
Immortal Nonsence guide my Pen,
The Fames of Shakespear and of Ben,
Must warp, before my nobler fire
To their regardless Tombs retire.
Thus Arm'd, with Nonsence, I'll engage
Both Universities,
And their Pedantick fooleries,
Show the misguided World the Cheat,
And let Man know that Nonsence makes him Great.
III.