Classic Poem

1.

Unhurt, untoucht did I complain;
And terrifi'd all others with the pain:
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah, there's no fooling with the Devil!
So wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real Spright .

2.

I thought, I'll swear, an handsome ly
Had been no sin at all in Poetry:
But now I suffer an Arrest ,
For words were spoke by me in jest .
Dull, sottish God of Love , and can it be
Thou understand'st not Raillery?

3.

Darts , and Wounds , and Flame , and Heat ,
I nam'd but for the Rhime , or the Conceit .
Nor meant my Verse should raised be,
To this sad fame of Prophesie ;
Truth gives a dull propriety to my stile,
And all the Metaphors does spoil.

4.

In things, where Fancy much does reign,
'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign .
The Play at last a Truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go.
By this curst art of begging I became
Lame , with counterfeiting Lame .

5.

My Lines of amorous desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others fire:
And 'twas a barbarous delight
My Fancy promis'd from the sight;
But now, by Love , the mighty Phalaris , I
My burning Bull the first do try.