If e'er in thy sight I found favour, Apollo,
Defend me from all the disasters which follow:
From the knaves and the fools, and the fops of the time,
From the drudges in prose, and the triflers in rhyme:
From the patchwork and toils of the royal sack-bibber,
Those dead birthday odes, and the farces of Cibber:
From servile attendance on men in high places,
Their worships, and honours, and lordships, and graces:
From long dedications to patrons unworthy,
Who hear and receive, but will do nothing for thee:
From being caressed to be left in the lurch,
The tool of a party, in state or in church:
From dull thinking blockheads, as sober as Turks,
And petulant bards who repeat their own works:
From all the gay things of a drawing-room show,
The sight of a belle and the smell of a beau:
From busy backbiters, and tattlers and carpers,
And scurvy acquaintance of fiddlers and sharpers:
From old politicians, and coffee-house lectures,
The dreams of a chemist, and schemes of projectors:
From the fears of a gaol, and the hopes of a pension,
The tricks of a gamester, and oath of an ensign:
From shallow freethinkers in taverns disputing,
Nor ever confuted, nor ever confuting:
From the constant good fare of another man's board,
My lady's broad hints, and the jests of my lord;
From hearing old chemists prelecting de oleo ,
And reading of Dutch commentators in folio:
From waiting, like Gay, whole years at Whitehall:
From the pride of gay wits, and the envy of small,
From very fine ladies with very fine incomes,
Which they finely lay out on fine toys and fine trincums:
From the pranks of ridottos and court masquerades,
The snares of young jilts, and the spite of old maids:
From a saucy dull stage, and submitting to share
In an empty third night with a beggarly play'r:
From Curl and such printers as would have me curst
To write second parts, let who will write the first:
From all pious patriots, who would to their best,
Put on a new tax, and take off an old test:
From the faith of informers, the fangs of the law,
And the great rogues, who keep all the lesser in awe:
From a poor country cure, that living interment,
With a wife and no prospect of any preferment:
From scribbling for hire, when my credit is sunk,
To buy no new coat, and to line an old trunk:
From squires, who divert us with jokes at their tables
Of hounds in their kennels, and nags in their stables:
From the nobles and commons, who bound in strict league are
To subscribe for no book, yet subscribe to Heidegger:
From the cant of fanatics, the jargon of schools,
The censures of wise men, and praises of fools:
From critics who never read Latin or Greek,
And pedants, who boast they read both all the week:
From borrowing wit, to repay it like Budgell.
Or lending, like Pope, to be paid by a cudgel:
If ever thou didst, or wilt ever befriend me,
From these, and such evils, Apollo, defend me;
And let me be rather but honest with no wit,
Than a noisy nonsensical half-witted poet.
Defend me from all the disasters which follow:
From the knaves and the fools, and the fops of the time,
From the drudges in prose, and the triflers in rhyme:
From the patchwork and toils of the royal sack-bibber,
Those dead birthday odes, and the farces of Cibber:
From servile attendance on men in high places,
Their worships, and honours, and lordships, and graces:
From long dedications to patrons unworthy,
Who hear and receive, but will do nothing for thee:
From being caressed to be left in the lurch,
The tool of a party, in state or in church:
From dull thinking blockheads, as sober as Turks,
And petulant bards who repeat their own works:
From all the gay things of a drawing-room show,
The sight of a belle and the smell of a beau:
From busy backbiters, and tattlers and carpers,
And scurvy acquaintance of fiddlers and sharpers:
From old politicians, and coffee-house lectures,
The dreams of a chemist, and schemes of projectors:
From the fears of a gaol, and the hopes of a pension,
The tricks of a gamester, and oath of an ensign:
From shallow freethinkers in taverns disputing,
Nor ever confuted, nor ever confuting:
From the constant good fare of another man's board,
My lady's broad hints, and the jests of my lord;
From hearing old chemists prelecting de oleo ,
And reading of Dutch commentators in folio:
From waiting, like Gay, whole years at Whitehall:
From the pride of gay wits, and the envy of small,
From very fine ladies with very fine incomes,
Which they finely lay out on fine toys and fine trincums:
From the pranks of ridottos and court masquerades,
The snares of young jilts, and the spite of old maids:
From a saucy dull stage, and submitting to share
In an empty third night with a beggarly play'r:
From Curl and such printers as would have me curst
To write second parts, let who will write the first:
From all pious patriots, who would to their best,
Put on a new tax, and take off an old test:
From the faith of informers, the fangs of the law,
And the great rogues, who keep all the lesser in awe:
From a poor country cure, that living interment,
With a wife and no prospect of any preferment:
From scribbling for hire, when my credit is sunk,
To buy no new coat, and to line an old trunk:
From squires, who divert us with jokes at their tables
Of hounds in their kennels, and nags in their stables:
From the nobles and commons, who bound in strict league are
To subscribe for no book, yet subscribe to Heidegger:
From the cant of fanatics, the jargon of schools,
The censures of wise men, and praises of fools:
From critics who never read Latin or Greek,
And pedants, who boast they read both all the week:
From borrowing wit, to repay it like Budgell.
Or lending, like Pope, to be paid by a cudgel:
If ever thou didst, or wilt ever befriend me,
From these, and such evils, Apollo, defend me;
And let me be rather but honest with no wit,
Than a noisy nonsensical half-witted poet.