SAT. IIII.

Too popular is Tragick Poesie ,
Strayning his tip-toes for a farthing fee,
And doth besides on Rimelesse numbers tread,
Vnbid Iambicks flow from carelesse head.
Some brauer braine in high Heroick rimes
Compileth worme eate stories of olde times:
And he like some imperious Maronist ,
Coniures the Muses that they him assist.
Then striues he to bumbast his feeble lines
With farre-fetcht phraise:
And maketh vp his hard-betaken tale,
With strange enchantments, fetcht from darksom vale
Of some Melissa , that by Magicke dome
To Tuscan soyle transporteth Merlins tombe :
Painters and poets hold your ancient right:
Write what you wil, and write not what you might:
Their limits be their List , their reason will.
But if some painter in presuming skill
Should paint the stars in center of the earth,
Could ye forbeare some smiles, & taunting mirth?
But let no rebell Satyre dare traduce
Th'eternall Legends of thy Faery Muse ,
Renowmed Spencer : whome no earthly wight
Dares once to emulate, much lesse dares despight.
Salust of France and Tuscan Ariost,
Yeeld vp the Lawrell girlond ye haue lost:
And let all others willow weare with mee,
Or let their vndeseruing Temples bared bee.