SONNET LXXVI.

Lo! modern Critics emulously dare Ape the great Despot; throw in pompous tone And massy words their true no meaning down! But while their envious eyes on Genius glare, While axioms false assiduously they square In arrogant antithesis, a frown Lours on the brow of Justice, to disown The kindred malice with its mimic air. Spirit of Common Sense! must we endure The incrustation hard without the gem? Find in th' Anana's rind the wilding sour, The Oak's rough knots on every Osier's stem? The dark contortions of the Sybil bear, Whose inspirations never meet our ear?