There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something read more

There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine read more

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster knife, that hacks and hews;
The rage but not the talent to abuse.

Men are more satirical from vanity than from malice.

Men are more satirical from vanity than from malice.

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
read more

I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go,
And pointed satire runs him through and through.

Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
read more

Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
He hides behind a magisterial air
He own offences, and strips others' bare.

Why should we fear; and what? The laws?
They all are armed in virtue's cause;
And aiming read more

Why should we fear; and what? The laws?
They all are armed in virtue's cause;
And aiming at the self-same end,
Satire is always virtue's friend.

The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or
behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, read more

The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or
behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out
of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.