I know there are,towhofe prefumptuous thoughts Thofe freer beauties, ev'n in them, feem faults 170 Some figures monitrous and mil-fhap'd appear, Confider'd fingly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place,' Due diftance reconciles to form and grace. A prudent chief Lot always muft difplay His powers in equal ranks, and fair array, But with th' occafion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay fometimes feem to fly. Thofe oft are fratagems which error feem, Ner is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Still green with bays each ancient altar ftands, Above the reach of tacrilegious hands; Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage, Deftructive war, and all-involving age.
See from each clime the learn'd their incenfe bring! Hear, in all tongues confenting Feans ring! In praife fo juft let every voice be join'd, And fill the general chorus of mankind. Hail, bards triumphant! born in happier days; Immortal heirs of univerfal praife!
Whofe honours with increafe of ages grow, As ftreams roll down, enlarging as they flow; Nations unborn your mighty names fhall found, And worlds applaud that muft not yet be found! O may fome fpark of your celeftial fire, The last, the meaneft of your fons infpire, (That, on weak wings, from far pursues your flights, Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) To teach vain wits a fcience little known, T'admire fuperior fenfe, and doubt their own: Of all the caufes which confpire to bind zor Man's erring judgment, and nifguide the mind, What the weak head with ftrongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing voice of fools, Whatever nature has in worth deny'd, She gives in large recruits of needful pride! For as in bodies, thus in fouls, we find What wants in blood and fpirits, fwell'd with wind: Pride, where wit fails, fteps in to our defence,. And fills up all the mighty void of fenfe. If once right reafon drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with refiftless day. Truft not yourself; but, your defects to know, Make ufe of every friend-and every foe. A little learning is a dangerous thing! Drink deep, or tafle not the Pierian spring: There fhallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely fobers us again. Fir'd at first fight with what the mufe imparts, In fearlefs youth we tempt the heights of arts, 220
While, from the bounded level of our mind, Short views we take, nor fee the lengths behind; But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise New diftant fcenes of endlefs fcience rife! So pleas'd at firft the towering Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and feem to tread the sky; Th' eternal fnows appear already past, And the first clouds and mountains feem the laft: But, thofe attain'd, we tremble to furvey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way; 230 Th' increafing profpect tires our wandering eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arife!
A perfe& judge will read each work of wit With the fame fpirit that its author writ: Survey the whole, nor feek flight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;
Nor lafe, for that malignant dull delight, The generous pleasure to be charm'd with wit. But, in fuch lays as neither ebb nor flow, Correctly cold, and regularly low, That, fhunning faults, one quiet tenour keep; We cannot blame indeed--but we may fleep. In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full refult of all. Thus when we view fome well-proportion'd dome, (The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!)
The whole at once is bold, and regular.
Whoever thinks a faultlefs piece to fee, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er fhall be. In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compafs more than they intend; And if the means be juft, the conduct true, Applaufe, in fpite of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, fometimes men of wit, T' avoid great erro. muft the lefs commit: 260 Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays, For not to know fome trifles, is a praise. Moft critics, fond of fome fubfervient art, Still make the whole depend upon a part: They talk of principles, but notions prize, And all to one lov'd folly facrifice. Once on a time, La Mancha's knight, they say, A certain bard encountering on the way, Difcours'd in terms as juft, with looks as fage, As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage; 270
'Tis more to guide, than spur the muse's steed; Refrain his fury, than provoke his speed: The winged courfer, like a generous horfe, Shows most true mettle when you check his courfe. Thofe rules of old difcover'd, not devis'd, Are nature ftill, but nature methodis'd: Nature, like liberty, is but reftrain'd By the fame laws which firft herself ordain'd. Hear how learn'd Greece her ufeful rules endites, When to reprefs, and when indulge our flights: High on Parnaffus' top her fons the fhew'd, And pointed out thofe arduous paths they trod : Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rife. Juft precepts thus from great example given, She drew from them what they deriv'd from heaven. The generous critic fann'd the poet's fire, And taught the world with reafon to admire. Then criticifm the mufe's handmaid prov'd, To drefs her charms, and make her more belov'd: But following wits from that intention ftray'd, Who could not win the mistress woo'd the maid; Against the poets their own arms they turn'd, Sure to hate moft the men from whom they learn'd. So modern 'pothecaries taught the art By doctors bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prefcribe, apply, and call their masters fools. Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey, Nor time nor moths e'er fpoil'd fo much as they : Some drily plain, without invention's aid, Write dull receipts how poems may be made. These leave the fenfe, their learning to difplay, And thofe explain the meaning quite away. [tteer, You then whofe judgment the right courfe would Know well each Ancient's proper character: His fable, fubje&t, fcope in every page; Religion, country, genius of his age: Without all thefe at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticife.
Be Homer's works your ftudy and delight Read them by day, and meditate by night,;
Ver. 90. Ed. 1. Nature, like monarchy, &c. Ver. 92. First learned Greece juft precepts did endite, When to reprefs, and when indulge our flight. Ver. 97.
From great examples ufeful rules were given. After ver. 104, this line is omitted: Set up themselves, and drove a feparate trade. Ver. 116. Ed. 1. Thefe loft, &c.
Ver. 117. And these explain'd, &c.
Ver. 123. Ed. 1. You may confound, but, &c. Ver. 123. Cavil you may, but never criticife.
The Author after this verfe originally inferted the following, which he has however omitted in all the editions:
Zoilus, had thefe been known, without a name Had dy'd, and Perault ne'er been damn'd to fame : The fenfe of found antiquity had reign'd, And facred Homer yet been unprofan'd. None e'er had thought his comprehensive mind To modern customs, modern rules confin'd;
And trace the mufes upward to their spring; Still with itfelf compar'd, his text perufe ; And let your comment be the Mantuan mufe. When first young Maro, in his boundless mind
A work t'outlaft immortal Rome defign'd, 131 Perhaps he fecm'd above the critic's law, And but from nature's fountains fcorn'd to draw: But when t' examine every part he came, Nature and Homer were, he found, the fame. Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold defign; And rules as ftrict his labour'd work confine, As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line. Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; To copy nature, is to copy them.
Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, For there's a happiness as well as care. Mufic refembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a mafter-hand alone can reach. If, where the rules not far enough extend, (since rules were made but to promote their end),
Some lucky license answer to the full Th' intent propos'd, that license is a rule. Thus Pegafus, a nearer way to take, May boldly deviate from the common track; From vulgar bounds with brave diforder part, And foatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which, without paffing through the judgment, gains
The heart. and all its end at once attains. In profpects thus, fome objects please our eyes, Which out of nature's common order rife, The shapelefs rock, or hanging precipice Great wits fometimes may gloriously ofend, And rife to faults true critics dare not mend. 160 But though the ancients thus their rules invade (As kings difpenie with laws themselves have made);
Moderns, beware! or, if you must offend Againf the precept, ne'er tranfgrefs its end: Let it be feldom, and compell'd by need; And have, at leaft, their precedent to plead. The critic elle proceeds without remorse. Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
Thence form your judgment, thence your notions bring.
When first young Maro fung of kings and wars, Ere warning Phoebus touch'd his trembling ears. Ver. 130. Ed. 1. When firft great Maro, &c. Ver. 136.
Convinc'd, amaz'd, he check'd the bold defign; And did his work to rules as ftri&t confine. Ver. 145. Ed. 1. And which a mafter's hand, &c. After ver. 158. the first edition reads, But care in poetry muft ftill be had, It afks difcretion ev'n in running mad; And though the ancients, &c.
I know there are, towhofe prefumptuousthoughts Thofe freer beauties, ev'n in them, feem faults 170 Some figures monstrous and mil-fhap'd appear, Confidei'd fingly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place,' Due diftance reconciles to form and grace. A prudent chief not always muft difplay His powers in equal ranks, and fair array, But with th' occafion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay fometimes feem to fly. Thofe oft are fratagems which error feem, Ner is it Homer nods, but we that dream. Still green with bays each ancient altar ftands, Above the reach of facrilegious hands; Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage, Destructive war, and all-involving age.
See from each clime the learn'd their incenfe bring! Hear, in all tongues confenting Peans ring! In praife fo just let every voice be join'd, And fill the general chorus of mankind. Hail, bards triumphant! born in happier days; Immortal heirs of univerfal praife! Whofe honours with increase of ages grow, As fireams roll down, enlarging as they flow; Nations unborn your mighty names fhall found, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! O may fome fpark of your celeftial fire, The laft, the meaneft of your fons infpire, (That, on weak wings, from far purfues your flights, Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) To teach vain wits a fcience little known, T'admire fuperior fenfe, and doubt their own:
Of all the caufes which confpire to bind zor Man's erring judgment, and mifguide the mind, What the weak head with ftrongest bias rules, I's pride, the never-failing voice of fools, Whatever nature has in worth deny'd, She gives in large recruits of needful pride! For as in bodies, thus in fouls, we find What wants in blood and fpirits, fwell'd with wind: Pride, where wit fails, fteps in to our defence,. And fills up all the mighty void of fenfe. I once right reafon drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with refiftless day. Truft not yourfelf; but, your defects to know, Make ufe of every friend-and every foe. A little learning is a dangerous thing! Drink deep, or tafle not the Pierian fpring: There fhallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely fobers us again. Fir'd at first fight with what the mufe imparts, In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, 220
While, from the bounded level of our mind, Short views we take, nor fee the lengths behind; But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise New diftant fcenes of endlefs fcience rife! So pleas'd at firft the towering Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and feem to tread the fky; Th' eternal fnows appear already past,
And the first clouds and mountains feem the last: But, thofe attain'd, we tremble to furvey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way; 230 Th' increafing profpect tires our wandering eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arife!
A perfe& judge will read each work of wit With the fame fpirit that its author writ: Survey the whole, nor feck flight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;
Nor 1afe, for that malignant dull delight, The generous pleafure to be charm'd with wit. But, in fuch lays as neither ebb nor flow, Correctly cold, and regularly low,
That, fhunning faults, one quiet tenour keep; We cannot blame indeed--but we may fleep. In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full refult of all. Thus when we view fome well-proportion'd dome, (The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!)
No fingle parts unequally furprife, All comes united to th' admiring eyes; No monftrous height, or breadth, or length ap-
The whole at once is bold, and regular.
Whoever thinks a faultlefs piece to fee, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er fhall be. In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applaufe, in spite of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, fometimes men of wit, T' avoid great erro. muft the lefs commit: 260 Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays, For not to know fome trifles, is a praife. Moft critics, fond of fome fubfervient art, Still make the whole depend upon a part: They talk of principles, but notions prize, And all to one lov'd folly facrifice. Once on a time, La Mancha's knight, they say, A certain bard encountering on the way, Difcours'd in terms as juft, with looks as fage, As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage;
The traveller beholds with cheerful eyes The leffening vales, and seems to tread the skies Ver. 259.
As men of breeding, oft the men of wit.
They talk of principles, but parts they prize. Ver. 270.
As e'er could Dennis of the laws o' th' stage.
So vaft a throng the flage can ne'er contain. Then build a new, or act it in a plain." Thus critics, of lefs judgment than caprice, Curicus, not knowing, not exact but nice, Form fhort ideas; and offend in arts (As moft in manners) by a love to parts.
Some to conceit alone their tafte confine, And glittering thoughts ftruck out at every line; Pleas'd with a work where nothing's juft or fit; One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit. Poets like painters, thus unikill'd to trace The naked nature, and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover every part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is nature to advantage drefs'd, What oft was thought, but ne'er fo well exprefs'd; Something, whofe truth convinc'd at fight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind. As fhades more fweetly recommend the light, So modeft plainnefs fets off fprightly wit; For works may have more wit than does them good,
As bodies perish through excefs of blood.
Others for language all their care exprefs, And value books, as women men, for drefs: Their praife is fill-the ftyle is excellent; The fenfe, they humbly take upon content. Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of fenfe beneath is rarely found. 310 Falfe eloquence, like the prifmatic glass, Its gaudy colours fpreads on every place; The face of nature we no more lurvey, All glares alike, without distinction gay: But true expreffion, like th' unchanging fun, Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon; It gilds all objects, but it alters none. Expreffion is the drefs of thought, and ftill Appears more decent, as more fuitable; A vile conceit in pompous words exprefs'd, Is like a clown in regal purple drefs'd: For different ftyles with different fubjects fort, As feveral garbs, with country, town, and court. Some by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrafe, mere moderns in their sense;
Ver. 272. Ed. 1. That durft, &c.
What oft was thought, but ne'er before exprefs'd. Ver. 320. Ed. 1.
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned fmile. Unlucky, as Fungofa in the play,
Thefe fparks with aukward vanity display What the fine gentleman wore yesterday; 330, And but fo mimic ancient wits at best,
As apes our grandfires in their doublets dreft. In words, as fashions, the fame rule will hold; Alike fantaftic, if too new or old :
Be not the first by whom the new are try'd, Nor yet the laft to lay the old afide.
But most by numbers judge a poet's fong; And fmooth or rough, with them, is right or [fpire,
In the bright muse though thousand charms con- Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire; 340 Who haunt Parnaffus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. Thefe, equal fyllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire; While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line: While they ring round the fame unvary'd chimes, With fure returns of ftill expected rhymes; Where'er you find " the cooling western breeze," In the next line it "whispers through the trees:” If crystal ftreams" with pleafing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain with "fleep:' Then at the laft and only couplet fraught With fome unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needlefs Alexandrine ends the fong, That, like a wounded fnake, drags its flow length along. [know Leave fuch to tune their own dull rhymes, and What's roundly fmooth, or languishingly flow; And praise the easy vigour of a line, Where Denham's ftrength and Waller's [weetness join.
And smooth or rough, with fuch, &c. Ver 363. 34. These lines are added.
Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found, 380 And the world's victor food fubdued by found! The power of music all our hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such, Who ftill are pleas'd too little or too much. At every trifle fcorn to take offence, That always fhows great pride, or little fenfe ; Those heads, as ftomachs, are not sure the best, Which naufeate all, and nothing can digest. Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move; 390 For fools admire, but men of fense approve : As things feem large which we through mifts defery,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
Some foreign writers, fome our own despise; The ancients only, or the moderns prize : Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd To one fmall fect, and all are damn'd befide. Meanly they feek the bleffing to confine, And force that fun but on a part to hine, Which not alone the fouthern wit fublimes, 400 But ripens fpirits in cold northern climes; Which from the first has fhone on ages paft, Enlights the prefent, and shall warm the last; Though each may feel increafes and decays, And fee now clearer and now darker days. Regard not then if wit be old or new, But blame the falfe, and value still the true. Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own, But catch the spreading notion of the town; They reafon and conclude by precedent, And own ftale nonsense which they ne'er invent. Some judge of authors names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. Of all this fervile herd, the worft is he That in proud dulnefs joins with quality; A conftant critic at the great man's board, To fetch and carry nonfenfe for my lord, What wofel stuff this madrigal would be, Ja fome starv'd hackney-fonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines! Before his facred name flies every fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought! The vulgar thus through imitation err;
As oft the learn'd by being fingular;
So much they fcorn the crowd, that if the throng By chance go right, they purposely go wrong: So Schifmatics the plain believers quit, And are but damn'd for having too much wit. Some praise at morning what they blame at night, But always think the last opinion right. A mufe by these is like a miftrefs us'd, This hour she's idoliz'd, the next abus'd; While their weak heads, like towns unfortify'd, 'Twixt fenfe and nonfenfe daily change their fide. Afk them the caufe; they're wifer ftill, they fay; And ftill to-morrow's wifer than to-day. We think our fathers fools, fo wife we grow; Our wifer fons, no doubt, will think us 19,
Ver. 394. Ed. 1. Some the French writers, &c. Ver 413. Ed. I. Nor praife nor damn, &c. Ver 428. So Schifmatics the duil, &c.
Once school divines this zealous ifle o'erfpread; Who knew moft fentences was deepest read: 44E Faith, gofpel, all, feem'd made to be difputed, And none had fenfe enough to be confuted: Scotifts and Thomifts, now in peace remain, Amidft their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane. If faith itself has different dreffes worn, What wonder modes in wit fhould take their turn?
Oft, leaving what is natural and fit, The current folly proves the ready wit; And authors think their reputation safe, Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh. Some, valuing those of their own fide or mind, Still make themselves the measure of mankind: Fondly we think we honour merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men. Parties in wit attend on those of state, And public faction doubles private hate. Pride, malice, folly, against Dryden rose, In various fhapes of parfons, critics, beaux : But fenfe furviv'd, when merry jefts were paft; For rising merit will buoy up at last. Might he return, and bless once more our eyes, New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arife: Nay, fhould great Homer lift his awful head, Zoilus again would start up from the dead. Envy will merit, as its fhade, purfue; But, like a fhadow, proves the substance true : For envy'd wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known Th' oppofing body's groffnefs, not its own. When first that fun too powerful beams dif- plays.
It draws up vapours which obfcure its rays; 471 But ev'n thofe clouds at laft adorn its way, Reflect new glories, and augment the day.
Be thou the firft, true merit to befriend; His praise is loft, who stays till all commend. Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes, And 'tis but juft to let them live betimes. No longer now that golden age appears, When patriarch-wits furviv'd a thousand years; Now length of fame (our fecond life) is loft, 480 And bare threefcore is all ev'n that can boaft; Our fons their fathers failing language fee, And fuch as Chaucer is, fhail Dryden be. So when the faithful pencil has defign'd Some bright idea of the master's mind, Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready nature waits upon his hand;
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