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To see our supercilious wizerds frowne;
Their faces falne like Foggs; and coming downe,
Stincking the Sunn out; make me shine the more:
And like a checkt flood, beare aboue the shore,
That their prophane Opinions faine would set,
To what they see not; know not; nor can let.
Yet then, our learn'd Men, with their Torrents come
Roring from their forc't Hills, all crown'd with fome,
That one not taught like them, should learne to know
Their Greeke rootes, & from thence the Groues that grow,
Casting such rich shades, from great Homers wings:
That first, and last, command the Muses springs.
Though he's best Scholler, that through paines and vows;
Made his owne Master onely; all things know's.
Nor pleades my poore skill; forme; or learned Place;
But dantlesse labor, constant Prayer, and Grace.
And what's all their skill, but vast varied reading?
As if brode-beaten High-waies had the leading
To Truths abstract, and narrow Path, and Pit?
Found in no walke, of any worldly wit.
And without Truth; all's onely sleight of hand,
Or our Law-learning, in a Forraine Land;
Embroderie spent on Cobwebs, Braggart show
Of Men that all things learne; and nothing know.
For Ostentation, humble Truth still flies,
And all confederate fashionists, defies.
And as some sharpe-browd Doctor, (English borne;)
In much learn'd Latine Idioms can adorne
Their faces falne like Foggs; and coming downe,
Stincking the Sunn out; make me shine the more:
And like a checkt flood, beare aboue the shore,
That their prophane Opinions faine would set,
To what they see not; know not; nor can let.
Yet then, our learn'd Men, with their Torrents come
Roring from their forc't Hills, all crown'd with fome,
That one not taught like them, should learne to know
Their Greeke rootes, & from thence the Groues that grow,
Casting such rich shades, from great Homers wings:
That first, and last, command the Muses springs.
Though he's best Scholler, that through paines and vows;
Made his owne Master onely; all things know's.
Nor pleades my poore skill; forme; or learned Place;
But dantlesse labor, constant Prayer, and Grace.
And what's all their skill, but vast varied reading?
As if brode-beaten High-waies had the leading
To Truths abstract, and narrow Path, and Pit?
Found in no walke, of any worldly wit.
And without Truth; all's onely sleight of hand,
Or our Law-learning, in a Forraine Land;
Embroderie spent on Cobwebs, Braggart show
Of Men that all things learne; and nothing know.
For Ostentation, humble Truth still flies,
And all confederate fashionists, defies.
And as some sharpe-browd Doctor, (English borne;)
In much learn'd Latine Idioms can adorne
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