Allow me to complete your second stanza:

Convinced they were his Rhymes were naught but Jests.
In this new day the Critics may be right;
But no true Poet ever fled a Fight.

The Little House at Kolomna

1.

These foolish four-stress Lines have had their Day;
They’re puny Rubbish, fit for Boys and Girls;
Ottava rima’s best for a fresh Fray–
I’ve always liked its fast, facetious Swirls;
Chimes One and Two should come as fresh as May,
Though Number Three more cautiously uncurls;
Rhymes always were my favorite Relations–
So, off to War! En avant! Battle Stations!

2.

To make my new Verse true and empathetic,
I’ll take for Rhymes whate’er my Soul suggests–
Despite the Cavils, arrogant, emetic,
Which carping Critics, feathering their Nests,
Give old John Hookham Frere, that proud Heretic, …

Rainy