While at each change the fon of Lybian Jove,
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
Now fierce his eyes with sparkling fury glow!
Now fighs fteal out, and tears begin to flow;
Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor stood fubdu'd by found!
The pow'r of music all our hearts allow,
And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
Avoid extremes, and fhun the fault of fuch,
Who ftill are pleas'd too little, or too much.
At ev'ry trifle fcorn to take offence,
That always fhows great pride, or little sense.
Thofe heads, as ftomachs, are not fure the best,
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;
For fools admire, but men of fense approve.
As things fem large which we thro' mists descry,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
Some the French writers, fome our own defpife;
The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
(Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd
To one small fect, and all are damn'd befide,)
Audin! ut alternis Lybici Jovis inclyta proles
Nunc ardet famam, folos nunc fpirat amores,
Lumina nunc vivis radiantia volvere flammis,
Mox furtim fufpiria, mox effundere Aletum!
Dum Perfæ, Græcique pares fentire tumultus
Difcunt, victricemque lyram rex orbis adorat.
Musica quid poterit corda ipfa fatentur, et audit
Timotheus noftras merita cum laude Drydenus.
Tu fervare modum ftudeas benè cautus, et iftos
Queis aut nil placuiffe poteft, aut omnia, vites.
Exiguas nafo maculas fufpendere noli,
Namque patent nullo ftupor atque fuperbia mentis
Clariùs indicio; neque mens eft optima certè,
Non fecus ac ftomachus, quæcunque recufat et odit
Omnia, difficilifque nihil tibi concoquit unquam.
Non tamen idcirco vegeti vis ulla leporis
Te tibi furripiat; mirari mentis ineptæ eft,
Prudentis vero tantum optima quæque probare.
Majores res apparent per nubila vifæ,
Atque ita luminibus ftupor ampliat omnia denfis.
His Galli minus arrident, illifque poetæ
Noftrates, hodierni aliis, aliifque vetufti.
Sic * fidei fimile, ingenium fectæ arrogat uni
Quifque fuæ ; folis patet illis janua cœli
Meanly they feek the bleffing to confine,
And force that fun but on a part to fhine,
Which not alone the fouthern wit fublimes,
But ripens fpirits in cold northern climes,
Which from the firft has fhone on ages paft,
Enlights the prefent, and fhall warm the last.
(Tho' each may feel increases 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 ftill the true.
Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
But catch the fpeading notion of the town;
They reafon and conclude by precedent,
And own ftale nonfenfe, which they ne'er invent.
Some judge of authors names, not works, and then 415
Nor praife, nor blame the writings, but the men.
Of all this fervile herd, the worst is he
Who in proud dulnefs joins with quality,
A conftant critic at the great man's board,
To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord.
What woful ftuff this madrigal wou'd be,
In some starved hackney fonneteer, or me?
But let a lord once own the happy lines,
How the wit brightens, how the ftyle refines!
Scilicet, inque malam rem cætera turba jubentur.
Fruftra autem immenfis cupiunt imponere metam
Muneribus Divûm, atque illius tela coarctant
Solis, hyperboreas etiam qui temperat auras,
Non folum auftrales genios fœcundat et auget.
Qui primis laté fua lumina fparfit ab annis,
Illuftrat præfens, fummumque accenderit œvum.
(Cuique vices variæ tamen; et jam fæcula fœclis
Succedunt pejora, et jam meliora peractis )
Pro meritis mufam laudare memento, nec unquam 430 Neglige quod novitas diftinguit, quodve vetuftas.
Sunt qui nil proprium in medium proferre suërunt,
Judiciumque fuum credunt popularibus auris;
Tum vulgi quò exempla trahunt retrahuntque fequuntur,'
Tolluntque expofitas latè per compita nugas.
Turba alia authorum titulos et nomina difcit
Scriptorefque ipfos, non fcripta examinat. Horum
Peffimus ifte cluet, fi quem fervilitèr ipfos
Vifere magnates ftupor ambitiofus adegit.
Qui critice ad menfam domino ancillatur inepto,
Futilis ardelio, femper referenfque ferenfque
Nuntia nugarum. Quam pinguia, quam male nata
Carmina cenfentur, quæcunque ego fortè vel ullus
Pangere Apollineæ tentat faber improbus artis !
At fiquis vero, fiquis vir magnus adoptet
Felicem mufam, quantus nitor ecce! venufque
Before his facred name flies ev'ry fault,
And each exalted stanza fteems with thought!
The vulgar thus thro' imitation err,
As oft the learn'd by being fingular;
So much they scorn the croud, that if the throng
By chance go right, they purpofely go wrong:
So fchifmatics the plain believers quit,
And are but damn'd for having too much wit.
Some blame at morning what they praise at night; But always think the last opinion right.
A muse by these is like a mistress us'd,
This hour fhe'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 still they say;
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 fo.
Once fchool-divines this zealous ifle oe'erfpread;
Who knew most fentences, was deepest read;
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