Nor you, thrice happy few! whose writings please,
Contemn the Bard whom Fame disdains to crown,
Or scorn the wretch, whose vain attempts to seize
The Laureat Wreath, are sadly overthrown.
Can pompous dedication’s splendid line,
Or praises on rich Lords profusely poured,
Make Envy her dire qualities resign,
Or empty fame satiety afford?
Perhaps in this sad garret once has lodged
Some vent’rous Knight, well skill’d to cog the die,