Poets, to give of their Invention proof,
Time out of Mind, have Talk'd, and Written of
Their Flying Jennet Pegasus , (we find)
Begotten in their Empty Heads, by Wind;
But sure, their Airy, Light, High-flying Horse,
In Good Truth, is no better yet, or worse,
Than the Good Dray-Horse, who drags up and down,
Wine, by which Men grow more Wits, more High-flown;
Best Drawer of the Tavern, is he, who
Drawing Wine thither, draws Wits thither too;
Brings Good Wine thither, whence their Good Wit springs,
Since, but by his Help there, the Poet sings;
Then he but is the High-flown Poet's Steed,
His Fancy's Aid, when High-flights it may need;
Whilst Pegasus , the Poets write of so,
Does but himself, a Horse of Fancy show,
But on Poetic Feet, alone to go;
Then 'tis the Dray-Horse causes Sprightly Wit,
(Tho' without Wings) Aid and Support of it;
By dragging to the Tavern, the Good Wine,
Which, to most High-Flights, Poets does incline,
Exalts their Thoughts, which else wou'd meanly stoop,
To Cares, and Fears, to make their Fancies droop;
Raises Good Conversation to the top,
To Noise, and Nonsense, often puts a stop;
From the Base World, above the Moon, does bear
The Poor Wit's Thoughts, from Trouble, Care, or Fear;
And to them, oft does Inspiration prove,
But more, to show their Courage, Wit, or Love;
To make Men Heroes, Good Companions, Wits,
At least, in their own Fanciful Conceits;
Wine makes the Modest Man his Silence break,
Dull Sots to hold their Tongues, the Wise to speak;
The Noise of Empty, Sounding Things, to lay,
So make some Wits, taking their Speech away,
Since 'tis some Wit, no Foolish Thing, to say;
So that the Dray-Horse then, (we must allow)
Our only Aid to Wit is, that we know;
Since, by the Wine's Help, he to Taverns brings,
Each Dumb Fool's, Sober Sot's Good Humour, springs,
Cits Play at Crambo , the Hoarse Poet Sings;
But for whose Help, each Sober Wit had found,
His Fancy still, but as his Feet, aground.