But ask not to what Doctors I apply; Sworn to no master, of no sect am I: As drives the storm, at any door I knock, And house with Montaigne now, or now with Locke.

Sometimes a patriot, active in debate,
Mix with the world, and battle for the
state;

Free as young Lyttleton, her cause pursue,
Still true to Virtue, and as warm as true: 30
Sometimes with Aristippus or St. Paul,
Indulge my candour, and grow all to all;
Back to my native Moderation slide,
And win my way by yielding to the tide.
Long as to him who works for debt the
day,

Long as the night to her whose love 's away,
Long as the year's dull circle seems to run
When the brisk minor pants for twenty-

one;

So slow th' unprofitable moments roll
That lock up all the functions of my soul, 40
That keep me from myself, and still delay
Life's instant business to a future day;
That task which as we follow or despise,
The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise;
Which done, the poorest can no wants en-
dure;

And which not done, the richest must be poor.

Late as it is, I put myself to school, And feel some comfort not to be a fool. Weak tho' I am of limb, and short of sight, Far from a lynx, and not a giant quite, 50 I'll do what Mead and Cheselden advise, To keep these limbs, and to preserve these

'Tis the first virtue vices to abhor, And the first wisdom to be fool no more: But to the world no bugbear is so great As want of figure and a small Estate. To either India see the merchant fly, Scared at the spectre of pale Poverty! See him with pains of body, pangs of soul,

70

Burn thro' the Tropics, freeze beneath the Pole!

Wilt thou do nothing for a nobler end, Nothing to make Philosophy thy friend? To stop thy foolish views, thy long desires, And ease thy heart of all that it admires? Here Wisdom calls, 'Seek Virtue first, be bold!

As gold to silver, Virtue is to gold.' There London's voice, 'Get money, money still!

And then let Virtue follow if she will.' 80 This, this the saving doctrine preach'd to all,

From low St. James's up to high St. Paul; From him whose quills stand quiver'd at his ear,

To him who notches sticks at Westmin

ster.

Barnard in spirit, sense, and truth abounds;

Pray then what wants he?' Fourscore thousand pounds;

A pension, or such harness for a slave As Bug now has, and Dorimant would have.

Barnard, thou art a cit, with all thy worth; But Bug and D*1 their Honours! and so forth.

90

Yet ev'ry child another song will sing, 'Virtue, brave boys! 't is Virtue makes a King.'

True, conscious Honour is to feel no sin; He's arm'd without that 's innocent within: Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass;

Compared to this a Minister 's an Ass.

And say, to which shall our applause belong,

This new Court jargon, or the good old song ?

The modern language of corrupted peers, Or what was spoke at Cressy and Poictiers?

100

Who counsels best? who whispers, Be but great,

With praise or infamy - leave that to Fate;

Adieu to Virtue, if you 're once a slave: Send her to Court, you send her to her grave.

Well, if a King 's a lion, at the least 120 The people are a many-headed beast; Can they direct what measures to pursue, Who know themselves so little what to do?

Alike in nothing but one lust of gold,

Just half the land would buy, and half be sold:

Their country's wealth our mightier misers drain,

Or cross, to plunder provinces, the main; The rest, some farm the Poor-box, some the Pews;

Some keep Assemblies, and would keep the Stews;

Some with fat bucks on childless dotards fawn;

130

Some win rich widows by their chine and brawn;

While with the silent growth of ten per cent.,

In dirt and darkness, hundreds stink content.

Of all these ways, if each pursues his

own,

Satire, be kind, and let the wretch alone; But show me one who has it in his power To act consistent with himself an hour.

Adieu- if this advice appear the worst, 130 Ev'n take the counsel which I gave you first:

Or better precepts if you can impart, Why do; I'll follow them with all my heart.

THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE

The identification of Augustus with George II. makes it necessary to take much of this poem ironically. George II., since his accession ten years before this was written (1737), had shown absolute indifference to the literature of England. The critical portions of the satire undoubtedly present Pope's real judgment of contemporary literature.

ADVERTISEMENT

The reflections of Horace, and the judgments passed in his Epistle to Augustus, seemed so seasonable to the present times, that I could not help applying them to the use of my own country. The author thought them considerable enough to address them to his prince, whom he paints with all the great and good qualities of a monarch upon whom the Romans depended for the increase of an absolute Empire; but to make the poem entirely English, I was willing to add one or two of those which contribute to the happiness of a Free People, and are more consistent with the welfare of our neighbours.

This epistle will show the learned world to have fallen into two mistakes: one, that Augustus was a Patron of poets in general; whereas he not only prohibited all but the best writers to name him, but recommended that care even to the civil magistrate; Admonebat prætores. ne paterentur nomen suum obsolefieri, &c.; the other, that this piece was only a general Discourse of Poetry; whereas it was an Apology for the Poets, in order to render Augustus more their patron. Horace here pleads the cause of his contemporaries; first, against the Taste of the town, whose humour it was to magnify the authors of the preceding age; secondly, against the Court and Nobility, who encouraged only the writers for the Theatre; and, lastly, against the Emperor himself, who had conceived them of little use to the Government. He shows (by a view of the progress of Learning, and the change of Taste among the Romans) that the introduction of the Polite Arts of Greece had given the writers of his time great advantages over their predecessors; that their Morals were much im