"Tho' liv'd he now he might appeal with scorn / To Lords, Knights, 'Squires and Doctors, yet unborn; / Or justly mad to Moloch's burning fane / Devote the choicest children of his brain."
— Armstrong, John (1708/9-1779)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Date
1753, 1770
Metaphor
"Tho' liv'd he now he might appeal with scorn / To Lords, Knights, 'Squires and Doctors, yet unborn; / Or justly mad to Moloch's burning fane / Devote the choicest children of his brain."
Metaphor in Context
Judge for yourself; nor wait with timid phlegm
'Till some illustrious pedant hum or hem.
The lords who starv'd old Ben were learn'dly fond
Of Chaucer, whom with bungling toil they conn'd.
Their sons, whose ears bold Milton could not seize,
Would laugh o'er Ben like mad, and snuff and sneeze,
And swear, and seem as tickled as you please.
Their spawn, the pride of this sublimer age,
Feel to the toes and horns grave Milton's rage.
Tho' liv'd he now he might appeal with scorn
To Lords, Knights, 'Squires and Doctors, yet unborn;
Or justly mad to Moloch's burning fane
Devote the choicest children of his brain.
Judge for yourself; and as you find report
Of wit as freely as of beef or port.
Zounds! shall a pert or bluff important wight,
Whose brain is fanciless, whose blood is white;
A mumbling ape of taste; prescribe us laws
To try the poets, for no better cause
Than that he boasts per ann. ten thousand clear,
Yelps in the House, or barely sits a Peer?
For shame! for shame! the liberal British soul
To stoop to any stale dictator's rule!
(Cf. pp. 15-16 in 1753 printing)
'Till some illustrious pedant hum or hem.
The lords who starv'd old Ben were learn'dly fond
Of Chaucer, whom with bungling toil they conn'd.
Their sons, whose ears bold Milton could not seize,
Would laugh o'er Ben like mad, and snuff and sneeze,
And swear, and seem as tickled as you please.
Their spawn, the pride of this sublimer age,
Feel to the toes and horns grave Milton's rage.
Tho' liv'd he now he might appeal with scorn
To Lords, Knights, 'Squires and Doctors, yet unborn;
Or justly mad to Moloch's burning fane
Devote the choicest children of his brain.
Judge for yourself; and as you find report
Of wit as freely as of beef or port.
Zounds! shall a pert or bluff important wight,
Whose brain is fanciless, whose blood is white;
A mumbling ape of taste; prescribe us laws
To try the poets, for no better cause
Than that he boasts per ann. ten thousand clear,
Yelps in the House, or barely sits a Peer?
For shame! for shame! the liberal British soul
To stoop to any stale dictator's rule!
(Cf. pp. 15-16 in 1753 printing)
Categories
Provenance
HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.
Citation
At least 4 entries in ECCO and ESTC (1753, 1770, 1790). Appears in The Works of the English Poets (1790).
Taste: an Epistle to a Young Critic. (London: Printed for R. Griffiths in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1753). <Link to ESTC>
Text from Miscellanies; by John Armstrong, M.D. In two volumes. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, (successor to Mr. Millar) in the Strand, 1770). <Link to ESTC>
Taste: an Epistle to a Young Critic. (London: Printed for R. Griffiths in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1753). <Link to ESTC>
Text from Miscellanies; by John Armstrong, M.D. In two volumes. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, (successor to Mr. Millar) in the Strand, 1770). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
09/01/2004
