A Century of Parody and Imitation

by Unknown

Are these the wreaths thou deignest to bestow

On bard, whose life and lays to virtue prone,

Have never turn'd aside on devious way?

Is this the high reward, to be of fools the prey?'

XII.

A laugh of scorn the welkin seem'd to rend,

And by my side I saw a form serene;

'Thou bard of honour, virtue's firmest friend,'

He said, 'can'st thou thus fret? or dost thou ween