Muse, `tis enough: at length thy labour ends, And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends. Let Crowds and Critics now my verse assail, Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail: This more than pays whole years of thankless pain; Time, health, and fortune are not lost in vain. Sheffield approves, consenting Phoebus bends, And I and Malice from this hour are friends.SourceThe script ran 0.005 seconds.
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