In evil Hour did Pope's declining Age, Deceiv'd and dazzled by the Tinsel show Of wordy Science, and the nauseous Flow Of mean officious Flatteries, engage Thy venal Quill to deck his labour'd Page With ribbald Nonsense, and permit to strow Amidst his Flow'rs the baleful Weeds, that grow In th' unbless'd Soil of rude and rancrous Rage. Yet this th' avenging Muse ordained so, When by his Counsel, or weak Sufferance, To thee were trusted Shakespear's Fame and Fate; She doom'd him down the Stream of Time to tow Thy foul dirt-loaded Hulk, or sink perchance Dragg'd to Oblivion by the found'ring Weight.
