To His Detractors Poem by Robert Gomersall
To His Detractors
Deane, (then which no other name
Is of better, of more Fame)
Sleepe in quiet: if there be
Tongues of that Malignity,
That will dare to wound thy grave
And not suffer thee to have
Slumber here, Ile say no more;
May they when they have plai'd ore
All their scenes of life, but know
The same Rigor, that they shew
That 'tis not generous, nor scarcely safe
To make a Libell, for an Epitaph.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/20/2024 12:38:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
