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As, laquei pretium.
Jure, inquit, Traufius istis
Jurgatur verbis: ego vectigalia magna,
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,
"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,
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
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.
Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm ?
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.
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
Content with little I can piddle here
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,
Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus!
Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius,
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