Classic Poem

Should some ill Painter in a wild design
To a mans Head an Horses shoulders joyn,
Or Fishes Tail to a fair Womans Waste,
Or draw the Limbs of many a different Beast,
Ill match'd, and with as motly Feathers drest;
If you by chance were to pass by his Shop;
Could you forbear from laughing at the Fop,
And not believe him whimsical, or mad?
Credit me, Sir, that Book is quite as bad,
As worthy laughter, which throughout is fill'd
With monstrous inconsistencies, more vain and wild
Than sick mens Dreams, whose neither head, nor tail,
Nor any parts in due proportion fall.
But 'twill be said, None ever did deny
Painters and Poets their free liberty
Of feigning any thing : We grant it true,
And the same privilege crave and allow:
But to mix natures clearly opposite,
To make the Serpent and the Dove unite,
Or Lambs from Savage Tygers seek defence,
Shocks Reason, and the rules of common Sence.