EPISTOLA I.

RIMA dicte mihi, summa dicende camena,

PRI

b Spectatum satis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.

Non eadem est aetas, non mens. Veianius, armis

Herculis ad postem fixis, latet abditus agro;

Ne populum extrema toties exoret arena.

f Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui personet aurem ;

Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne

Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat,

NOTES.

VER. 3. Sabbath of my days?] i. e. The 49th year, the age of the Author.

VER. 8. Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,] An occafional stroke of Satire on ill-placed ornaments. He has more openly ridiculed them in his Epistle on Taste.

EPISTLE I.

To L. BOLINGBRO ΚΕ.

ST. JOHN, whose love indulg'd my labours paft,

Matures my present, and shall bound my last!

Why will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!
See Modeft Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Gen'rals now, a retir'd to their Eftates,
Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool Ev'ning satiate of Applause,

5

II

Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's cause.
f A Voice there is, that whispers in my ear,
('Tis Reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear)
" Friend Pope! be prudent, let your & Muse take

" breath,

"And never gallop Pegasus to death;

61

NOTES.

Load some vain Church with old theatric state,

" Turn Arcs of Triumph to a garden gate.

VER. 10. ev'nin Brunswick's cause.] In the former Editions it was, Britain's cause. But the terms are synony

Nunc itaque eth versus, et caetera ludicra pono:

i

Quid verum atque decens, curo et rogo, et omnis in

hoc fum:

* Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim.

Ac ne forte roges, 1 quo me duce, quo Lare tuter:

Nullius addictus jurare in verba magiftri,

* Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes.

Nunc agilis fio, et merfor civilibus undis,

Virtutis verae cuftos, rigidusque satelles :
Nunc in * Ariftippi furtim praecepta relabor,
Et mihi res, non me rebus, subjungere conor.

4 Ut nox longa, quibus mentitur amica; diesque

* Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res. P.

NOTES.

VER. 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's horse.] The fame of this heavy Poet, however problematical elsewhere, was univerfally received in the City of London. His verfification is here exactly described: ftiff,