Yet, tho' dame nature may bestow This knack of verse, and jingling flow: (And thousands have that impulse felt, With whom the Muses never dwelt) Tho' it may save the lab'ring brain From many a thought-perplexing pain, And while the rhyme presents itself, Leaves BYSSHE untouch'd upon the shelf; Yet more demands the critic ear, Than the two catch-words in the rear, Which stand like watchmen in the close, To keep the verse from being prose.
