the sharper, I will not transpose his verse, but by the help of his own words trans-nonsense sense, that, by my stuff, people may judge the better what his is: Great Boy, thy tragedy and sculptures done, From press and plates, in fleets do homeward run: And in ridiculous and humble pride, Their course in ballad-singers' baskets guide; Whose greasy twigs do all new beauties take From the gay shows thy dainty sculptures make. Thy lines a mess of rhyming nonsense yield, A senseless tale, with fluttering fustian filled. No grain of sense does in one line appear; Thy words big bulks of boisterous bombast bear; With noise they move, and from players' mouths rebound, When their tongues dance to thy words' empty sound. By thee inspired, thy rumbling verses roll, As if that rhyme and bombast lent a soul; And with that soul they seem taught duty too; To huffing words does humble nonsense bow, As if it would thy worthless worth enhance, To the lowest rank of fops thy praise advance, To whom by instinct all thy stuff is dear; Their loud claps echo to the theatre. From breaths of fools thy commendation spreads, Fame sings thy praise with mouths of loggerheads; With noise and laughing each thy fustian greets, 'Tis clapped by choirs of empty-headed cits, Who have their tribute sent, and homage given, _As men in whispers send loud noise to heaven_.[166] Thus I have daubed him with his own puddle. And now we are come from aboard his dancing, masquing, rebounding, breathing fleet; and as if we had landed at Gotham, we meet nothing but fools and nonsense. Order and harmony in each appear, Their lofty bulks the flaming billows bear; In state they move, and on the waves rebound, As if they danced to their own trumpets' sound: By winds inspired, with lively grace they roll, As if that breath and motion lent a soul; And with that soul they seem taught duty too, Their topsails lowered, their heads with reverence bow, As if they would their general's worth enhance, From him by instinct taught allegiance. Whilst the loud cannons echo to the shore, Their flaming breaths salute you emperor; From their deep mouths he does your glory sing, With thunder and with lightning greets his King. Thus to express his joys, in a loud choir, And concert of winged messengers of fire, He has his tribute sent, and homage given, As men in incense send up vows to heaven. POSTSCRIPT.