Dim Eclipse, Disastrous Twilight.

This Is Servitude, To Serve The Unwise.

Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream. Then To The Well-trod Stage Anon, If Jonson's Learned Sock Be On, Or Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child, Warble His Native Wood-notes Wild.

[rhyme Is] But The Invention Of A Barbarous Age, To Set Off Wretched Matter And Lame Meter; ... Not Without Cause Therefore Some Both Italian And Spanish Poets Of Prime Note Have Rejected Rhyme, ... As Have Also Long Since Our Best English Tragedies, As... Trivial And Of No True Musical Delight; Which [truly] Consists Only In Apt Numbers, Fit Quantity Of Syllables, And The Sense Variously Drawn Out From One Verse Into Another, Not In The Jingling Sound Of Like Endings, A Fault Avoided By The Learned Ancients Both In Poetry And All Good Oratory.

And As An Ev'ning Dragon Came, Assailant On The Perched Roosts And Nests In Order Rang'd Of Tame Villatic Fowl.

For Solomon, He Lived At Ease, And Full Of Honour, Wealth, High Fare, Aimed Not Beyond Higher Design Than To Enjoy His State.