Monday, December 23, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

John Dryden

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The rest to some faint meaning make pretense,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through and make a lucid interval;
But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,
His rising fogs prevail upon the day.
--
l. 19-24.

 
John Dryden

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