To the Learnèd Critic
May others fear, fly, and traduce thy name,
As guilty men do magistrates: glad I,
That wish my poems a legitimate fame,
Charge them, for crown, to thy sole censure high.
And, but a sprig of bays, given by thee,
Shall outlive garlands, stol'n from the chaste tree.
As guilty men do magistrates: glad I,
That wish my poems a legitimate fame,
Charge them, for crown, to thy sole censure high.
And, but a sprig of bays, given by thee,
Shall outlive garlands, stol'n from the chaste tree.
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