APOLLO, at his crowded altars, tired
Of votaries, who for trite ideas thrown
Into loose verse, assume, in lofty tone,
The Poet’s name, untaught, and uninspir’d,
Indignant struck the Lyre.—Straight it acquired
New powers, and complicate. Then first was known
The rigorous Sonnet, to be framed alone
By duteous bards, or by just taste admir’d.—
Go, energetic Sonnet, go, he cried,
And be the test of skill!—For rhymes that flow
Regardless of thy rules, their destin’d guide,
Yet take thy name, ah! let the boasters know
That with strict sway my jealous laws preside,
While I no wreaths on rebel verse bestow.