Page:Vida's Art of Poetry.djvu/39

Nor with vain labour wander up and down
To view the land, and visit every town;
That would but call them from their former road,
To spend as age in banishment abroad;
Too late returning from the dang'rous main,
To see their countries and their friends again.

Still be the sacred poets your delight,
Read 'em by day, consult 'em in the night;
From those clear fountains all your raptures bring,
And draw for ever from the muses spring.
But let your subject in your bosom roll,
Claim every thought, and draw in all the soul.
That constant object to your mind display,
Your toil all night, your labour all the day.

I need not all the rules of verse disclose,
Nor how their various measures to dispose;
The tutor here with ease his charge may guide
To join the parts and numbers, or divide.
Now let him words to stated laws submit,
Or yoke to measures, or reduce to feet;

Now