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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396052" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Answer To Some Elegant Verses Sent By A Friend To The Author, Complaining That One Of His Descriptions Was Rather Too Warmly Drawn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But if any old lady, knight, priest or physician<br>Should condemn me for printing a second edition;<br>If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse, <br>May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?'~New Bath Guide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CANDOUR compels me, BECHER! to commend<br>The verse which blends the censor with the friend.<br>Your strong yet just reproof extorts applause<br>From me, the heedless and imprudent cause.<br>For this wild error which pervades my strain,<br>I sue for pardon, — must I sue In vain?<br>The wise sometlrnes ftom Wisdom's ways depart:<br>Can youth then hush the dlctates of the heart?<br>Precepts of prudence curb, but can't control<br>The fierce emotions of the flowing soul.<br>When Love's delirium haunts the glowing mind<br>Limping Decorum lingers far behind:<br>Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace, <br>Outstript and vanquish'd In the mental chase.<br>The young, the old, have worn the chains of love;<br>Let those they ne'er confined my lay reprove:<br>Let those whose souls Conternn the pleasing power<br>Their censures on the hapless victim shower.<br>Oh! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song, <br>The ceaseless echo of the rhyming throng, <br>Whose labour'd lines In chilling numbers flow,<br>To paint a pang the author ne'er can know!<br>The artless Helicon I boast is youth;— <br>My lyre, the heart; my muse, the simple truth.<br>Far be 't from me the 'vlrgin's stand' to 'taint':<br>Seduction's dread is here no slight restraint.<br>The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile,<br>Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile, <br>Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,<br>Firzn in her virtue's strength, yet not severe<br>She whom a conscious grace shall thus refine<br>Will ne'er be 'tainted' by a strain of mine.<br>But for the nymph whose premature desires<br>Torment her bosom with unholy fires,<br>No net to snare her willing heart is spread<br>Sho would have fallen, though she ne'er had read.<br>For me, I fain would please the chosen few,<br>Whose souls, to feeling and to nature true, <br>Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy<br>The light effusions of a heedless boy. <br>I seek not glory from the senseless crowd;<br>Of fancied laurels I shall ne'er he proud; <br>Their warrnest plaudits I would scarcely prize,<br>Their sneers or censures I alike despise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396052" data-title="Answer To Some Elegant Verses Sent By A Friend To The Author, Complaining That One Of His Descriptions Was Rather Too Warmly Drawn" data-description="'But if any old lady, knight, priest or physician
Should condemn me for printing a second edition;
If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse, 
May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?'~New Bath Guide.

CANDOUR compels me, BECHER! to commend..."></div>
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