Responding to Pope on his Essay on Criticism has indeed been the most difficult task, for I, wanting wit, fall right into his targeted groups.
I do not dare to write in verse or prose, Lest lack of wit in one or th’ other shows.
Nor do I know whether to create or criticize, for neither receive I the aid of Muse nor the gift to peruse.
As I write wobbling lines with jumbled up beats, my Pegasus dives from the height of Parnassus’ top to meet its oblivion;
When I venture to dethrone renowned poets from their time-tested seats, I make a fool of myself with but ridicule on my partial opinion.
I ofttimes break from the vulgar bounds of ancient times, with great boldness deviate, only to produce grating streams of clashes.
Focusing not on the flow of thoughts but on what rhymes, in search of which I long meditate, I write lines exactly like this one - trashes.
When I judge, I focus on small clips of the authors’ works that I criticize, and only with minor parts of their reasons and styles harmonize.
With a grudge, I read compositions with opinions differing from my own, and with biases blast at the authors with little evidence shown.
Repent thus I today for my past sins; anew present my works as the new day begins.