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Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem
Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem
Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem
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Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem

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"Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem" by Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherGood Press
Release dateApr 10, 2021
ISBN4064066317065
Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem

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    Book preview

    Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem - Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux

    Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux

    Le Lutrin—An Heroick Poem

    Published by Good Press, 2022

    [email protected]

    EAN 4064066317065

    Table of Contents

    CANTO I

    CANTO II

    CANTO III

    CANTO IV

    CANTO I

    Table of Contents

    ARGUMENT

    The Argument? what needs a Proëme

    To vamp a Three-half-penny Poëme?

    No, Reader, No; ‘twas never writt

    For thy sake, but for little Chitt.

    St. George oth’ back-side of the Horn-book,

    The Dragon kills, to Humour Scorn-book.

    And thus to wheddle in young Fops,

    The gilded Sign hangs o’re the Shops:

    Miss won’t come in to Buy, before

    She spies the Knick-knack at the Dore.

    Thus Queasie Madams meat forbear

    Until they read, The Bill of Fare.

    Instead a Frontispiece, or Babbie,

    We plac’t to please some puiney Rabbie,

    Who hates an Author that enlarges,

    And cons the Index to save charges.

    Discord, that Tearing, Hectoring Ranter,

    Provokes a Dean and his Arch-chanter,

    Who had liv’d friendly forty years,

    To fall together by the ears;

    A Rotten Pulpit plac’d i’th’ Quire

    Furnished fewel to the Fire:

    Three swashing Blades, blind Fates agree

    Should do the work: but who they bee,

    Pray ask the Canto, that can tell

    Better than I: and so Farewell

    Thus far the Porch, now view the House,

    Here is the Mountain, there’s the Mouse.

    Immortal feuds, and more than Civil Warrs,

    And Fights thô fierce, disfigur’d with no Scarrs

    I sing! And thee Great Prelate, who of late,

    Maugre the Changer, and Reluctant Fate

    Didst raise at length a Pulpit in the Quire,

    Th’ immortal Trophee of thy Mortal Ire.

    Twice the Pragmatick Chanter, thô in vain,

    Pesum’d to discompose thy peaceful Reign;

    Twice with Schismatick Pride did enterprise

    To force the Chapter in Rebellion rise;

    As oft the Dean him swoln with envious rage,

    Hurl’d Headlong from high hopes; and by sage

    Sexton assisted, terrify’d the People

    Who durst dispute the Title to his Steeple.

    Instruct me Muse, for thou canst tell, what Thirst

    Of sweeet Revenge, thô Dire, engaged first

    Religious Souls to break the Sacred Tye

    Of blessed Peace and heaven-born Amitie,

    To make old Friends new Rivals; can there rest

    Such bitter Gall in a Religious Breast?

    And thou Great Heroe, whose wise conduct stifled

    The growing Schisme which else thy Church had rifled

    With favour influence my Advent’rous Verse,

    Nor dare to laugh, whilest I thay Acts rehearse.

    In melting Pleasures of Fraternal Peace

    An ancient Abbey long had dwelt at case,

    Whose Scarlet Prebends blear’d poor Mortals eyes,

    Whose Ermines, Winters Frost, and Snow defies;

    Basking in fat, and Wealth, themselves they Bless

    In sweet Repose of Sacred Idleness:

    Thus Stretcht at length on downy Featherbeds,

    To chaunt their Matines ne’re lift up their Heads,

    But before Dinner wek’d; for they could smell

    The Kitchin Steams, though Deaf to th’ Prayer-bell

    When Eyes and Ears Nights leaden Key composes,

    Kind Sleep yet open left

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