Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold,
Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,
From heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows ;-360
These now no more shall be the Muse's themes,
Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine;
Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train :
Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.
No more my sons shall dye with British blood
Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood:
Safe on my shore each unmolested swain
Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain:
The shady empire shall retain no trace
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase;
The trumpet sleep while cheerful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold! the ascending villas on my side
Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide;
Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase,
And temples rise, the beauteous works of peace.
I see, I see, where two fair cities bend
Their ample bow, a new Whitehall* ascend! 380
There mighty nations shall inquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;
There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen
Once more to bend before a British queen.
'Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods,
And half thy forests rush into thy floods;
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display
To the bright regions of the rising day;
Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole;
Or under southern skies exalt their sails,
Led by new stars and borne by spicy gales!
For me the balm shall bleed and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
* In 1698, a fire had destroyed nearly all Whitehall-palace, the banquetting-room excepted.
The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.
The time shall come, when free as seas or wind,
Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And seas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side;
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire.
O, stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves;
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition shall attend her there :
There purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires :
There hated Envy her own snakes shall feel,
And Persecution mourn her broken wheel : 420
There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days: The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite, And bring the scenes of opening fate to light. My humble Muse, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forests and the flowery plains, Where Peace descending bids her olive spring, And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing. E'en I more sweetly pass my careless days, 431 Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise : Enough for me, that to the listening swains First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.
Introduction. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public, v. 1. That a true taste is as rare to be found as a true genius, v. 9 to 18. That most men are born with some taste, but spoiled by false education, v. 19 to 25. The multitude of critics, and causes of them, v. 26 to 45. That we are to study our own taste, and know the limits of it, v. 46 to 67. Nature the best guide of judgment, v. 68 to 87. Improved by art and rules, which are but methodised nature, v. 88. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets, v. 88 to 110. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a critic, particularly Homer and Virgil, v. 120 to 138. Of licences, and the use of them by the ancients, v. 140 to 180. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them, v. 181, &c.
V. 203, &c. Causes hindering a true judgment. I. Pride, v. 208. II. Imperfect learning, v. 215. III. Judging by parts and not by the whole, v. 233 to 288. Critics in wit, language, and versification only, v. 288, 305, 339, &c. IV. Being too hard to please or too apt to admire, v. 384. V. Partiality; too much love to a sect, -to the ancients or moderns, v. 394. VI. Prejudice or prevention, v. 408. VII. Singularity, v. 424. VIII. Inconstancy, v. 430. IX. Party spirit, v. 452, &c. X. Envy, v. 466. Against envy, and in praise of good nature, v. 508, &c. When severity is chiefly to be used by critics, v. 526, &c. PART III.
V. 560, &c. Rules for the conduct of manners in a critic. I. Candour, v. 563. Modesty, v. 566. Good breeding,
* Written 1709; published 1711, anonymously.
v. 572. Sincerity and freedom of advice, v. 578. II. When one's counsel is to be restrained, v. 584. Character of an incorrigible poet, v. 600. And of an impertinent critic, v. 610, &c. Character of a good critic, v. 629. The history of criticism, and characters of the best critics: Aristotle, v. 645. Horace, v. 653. Dionysius, v. 665. Petronius, v. 667. Quintilian, v. 670. Longinus, v. 675. Of the decay of criticism and its revival: Erasmus, v. 693. Vida, v. 705. Boileau, v. 714. Lord Roscommon, &c. v. 725. Conclusion.
'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss :
A fool might once himself alone expose :
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In poets as true genius is but rare,
True taste as seldom is the critic's share :
Both must alike from Heaven derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel;
And censure freely, who have written well.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true;
But are not critics to their judgment too?
Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimmering light;
The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn
right;
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill colouring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn critics in their own defence:
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