When none shall rail

While Malice, Pope, denies thy Page
It's own celestial Fire;
While Critics, and while Bards in Rage
Admiring, won't admire;

While wayward Pens thy Worth assail,
And envious Tongues decry,
These Times tho' many a Friend bewail,
These Times bewail not I.

But when the World's loud praise is thine,
And Spleen no more shall blame,
When with thy Homer Thou shalt shine
In one establish'd Fame,

When none shall rail, and ev'ry Lay
Devote a Wreath to Thee;
That Day (for come it will) that Day
Shall I lament to see.