Written in Ridicule of Certain Poems
{of Thomas Warton} Published in 1777.
Wheresoe'er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that time has flung away,
Uncouth words in disarray,
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode, and elegy, and sonnet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good rendition of words with artistic brilliance.