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Give Poets leave to make themselves away,
Why should it be a greater sin to kill,
Then to keep Men alive against their will?
Nor was this chance; But a deliberate choice;
For if Empedocles were now reviv'd,
He would be at his Frolick once again,
And his pretensions to Divinity:
Tis hard to say whether for Sacrilege
Or Incest, or some more unhear'd of Crime
The Rhyming Fiend is sent into these Men,
But they are all most visibly possest,
And like a baited Bear, when he breaks loose,
Without distinction seize on all they meet;
None ever scap'd that came within their reach,
Sticking like Leaches till they burst with blood,
Without remorse insatiably they read,
And never leave till they have read Men dead.
Why should it be a greater sin to kill,
Then to keep Men alive against their will?
Nor was this chance; But a deliberate choice;
For if Empedocles were now reviv'd,
He would be at his Frolick once again,
And his pretensions to Divinity:
Tis hard to say whether for Sacrilege
Or Incest, or some more unhear'd of Crime
The Rhyming Fiend is sent into these Men,
But they are all most visibly possest,
And like a baited Bear, when he breaks loose,
Without distinction seize on all they meet;
None ever scap'd that came within their reach,
Sticking like Leaches till they burst with blood,
Without remorse insatiably they read,
And never leave till they have read Men dead.
FINIS.
