Classic Poem

And here perchance, bending his beetled brow,
Some angry Critic scornful shall exclaim:
‘What G OTHIC Wight is this, who dares avow
‘To scorn of B RITISH Arts the fairest name,
‘Who wishes to recall with Idiot aim
‘What Elegance has banish'd from our shore,
‘Would blast the rural wreath of A LBION 's fame
‘The ancient forms of Folly to restore,
‘And bid the spruce Parterre usurp her seats once ‘more?’