I grieve to think that Waller's blam'd, <br />Waller, so long, so justly, fam'd. <br />Then own your Verses writ in Haste, <br />Or I shall say, you've lost your Taste. <br /> <br />Perhaps your loyal Heart disdains <br />A Poet, who could take such Pains, <br />To tune his sweet, immortal Lays <br />To an usurping Tyrant's Praise: <br />And, where you hate the Man, I see, <br />You never like his Poetry. <br />The Truth of this your Verse discovers; <br />So you abus'd the Conscious Lovers. <br /> <br />Tho' in your Principles you glory, <br />The Muses are nor Whig nor Tory: <br />So from your Sentence they appeal, <br />Nor will be judg'd by Party Zeal. <br />Whene'er a Poet's to be try'd, <br />Let Pope hereafter be your Guide. <br />``Survey the Whole, nor seek slight Faults to find, <br />``Where Nature moves, and Rapture warms the Mind.<br /><br />Mary Barber<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-gentleman-who-had-abus-d-waller/
