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As, laquei pretium.

Jure, inquit, Traufius istis

Jurgatur verbis: ego vectigalia magna,
Divitiafque habeo tribus amplas regibus. Ergo,
Quod fuperat, non eft melius quo infumere poffis ?
Cur eget indignus quifquam, te divite? quare
*Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm? cur, improbe, carae
Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo?

Uni nimirum tibi recte femper erunt res?


VER. 117, 118. Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy store, How dur' thou let one worthy man be poor?]

Cur eget indignus quifquam, te divite?

is here admirably paraphrafed. And it is obfervable in these Imitations, that where our Poet keeps to the fentiments of Horace, he rather piques himself in excelling the most finished touches of his Original, than in correcting or improving the more inferior parts. Of this elegance of ambition all his Writings bear fuch marks, that it gave countenance to an invidious imputation, as if his chief talent lay in copying finely. But if ever there was an inventive genius in Poetry it was Pope's. But his fancy was fo corrected by his judgment, and his imitation fo

To friends, to fortune, to mankind a fhame,
Think how posterity will treat thy name;
And buy a rope, that future times may tell
Thou haft at least bestow'd one penny well.


"Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need "To have a Tafte is infolence indeed:

"In me 'tis noble, fuits my birth and state,


My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great." Then, like the Sun, let' Bounty spread her ray, And shine that fuperfluity away.


Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy store,
How dar'ft thou let one worthy man be poor?
Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?
Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair White-hall:
Or to thy Country let that heap be lent,
As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.



fpirited by his genius, that what he improved struck the vulgar eye more strongly than what he invented.

VER. 122. As M**o's was, etc.] I think this light stroke of fatire ill placed; and hurts the dignity of the preceding morality. Horace was very ferious, and properly fo, when he said, cur, Improbe! carae

Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo.

He remembered, and hints with juft indignation,, at thofe luxu rious Patricians of his old party; who, when they had agreed to establish a fund in the cause of Freedom, under the conduct of Brutus, could never be perfuaded to withdraw from their expenfive pleasures what was fufficient for the fupport of fo great

O magnus pofthac inimicis rifus! uterne

Ad cafus dubios fidet fibi certius? hic, qui
Pluribus affuêrit mentem corpufque fuperbum;
An qui contentus parvo metuenfque futuri,
In pace, ut fapiens, aptarit idonea bello?

Quo magis his credas:


Integris opibus novi non latius ufum,

Quam nunc accifis. Videas, metato in agello,

Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum, Non ego, narrantem, temere edi luce profesta

Quidquam, praeter* olus fumofae cum pede pernae.


puer hunc


Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm ?

ego parvus


a caufe. He had prepared his apology for this liberty, in the preceding line, where he pays a fine compliment to Auguftus:

Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her


Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind.
And "who ftands fafeft? tell me, is it he 125
That spreads and fwells in puff'd Prosperity,
Or bleft with little, whofe preventing care
In peace provides fit arms against a war?

Thus BETHEL fpoke, who always fpeaks his


And always thinks the very thing he ought:130 His equal mind I copy what I can,

And as I love, would imitate the Man.

In South-fea days not happier, when furmis'd
The Lord of Thousands, than if now "Excis'd;
In forest planted by a Father's hand,
Than in five acres now of rented land.

Content with little I can piddle here
On brocoli and mutton, round the year;



which oblique Panegyric the Imitator has very properly turned into a just stroke of fatire.

VER. 133. In South-fea days not happier, etc.] Mr. Pope had South-fea flock, which he did not fell out. It was valued at between twenty and thirty thousand pounds when it fell.

Ac mihi feu longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,


Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem Vicinus; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis, Sed pullo atque hoedo: tum penfilis uva fecundas Et nux ornabat menfas, cum duplice ficu.

Poft hoc ludus erat cuppa potare magistra :


Ac venerata Ceres, ita culmo furgeret alto,
Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis.

Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus!

Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius,

aut vos,

O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc novus incola venit?


VER.150. And, what's more rare, a Poet fhall fay Grace.] The pleasantry of this line confifts in the fuppofed rarity of a Poet's having a table of his own; or a fenfe of gratitude for the blef

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