The Zeal Of Fools Offends At Any

All Nature's Diff'rence Keeps All Nature's Peace.

Then, At The Last And Only Couplet Fraught With Some Unmeaning Thing They Call A Thought, A Needless Alexandrine Ends The Song, That, Like A Wounded Snake, Drags Its Slow Length Along.

Therefore They Who Say Our Thoughts Are Not Our Own Because They Resemble The Ancients, May As Well Say Our Faces Are Not Our Own, Because They Are Like Our Fathers: And Indeed It Is Very Unreasonable, That People Should Expect Us To Be Scholars, And Yet Be Angry To Find Us So.

Then Sculpture And Her Sister Arts Revived; Stones Leaped To Form, And Rocks Began To Live.

Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be Gods.