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Or bid the new be English, ages hence,
(For Ufe will father what's begot by Senfe)
Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong,
Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue;
Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine,
But show no mercy to an empty line:
Then polish all, with so much life and ease,
You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please :
"But ease in writing flows from Art, not chance
"As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
If fuch the plague and pains to write by rule, 180
Better (fay I) be pleas'd, and play the fool;
Call, if you will, bad rhiming a disease,
It gives men happiness, or leaves them ease.
But there is a fet of still lower Creatures than thefe, at the
tail of which is one EDWARDS, who can make shift to
fubfift even on a Printer's blunder. The late Editor of
Shakespear gave order to the corrector of the prefs, that
all Mr. Pope's notes fhould be printed in their places. In
one of these there was mention made, as they fay, of
fome Italian novels (I forget whofe) in which Dec. and
Nov. were printed thus contractedly. But the printers of
the late edition lengthen'd them into December and No-
vember, and, in this condition, they are charged upon the
Editor by this Edwards. Now, was the man such a
Dunce to make his criticism with good faith, he is much
to be pitied; was he fuch a Knave to make it without,
he is much more to be pitied.
In vacuo laetus feffor plauforque theatro:
Caetera qui vitae fervaret munia recto
More; bonus fane vicinus, amabilis hofpes,
Comis in uxorem; poffet qui ignofcere servis,
Et figno laefo non infanire lagenae:
Poffet qui rupem, et puteum vitare patentem.
Hic ubi cognatorum opibus curífque refectus,
Expulit elleboro morbum bilemque meraco,
Et redit ad fefe: Pol me occidiftis, amici,
Non fervaftis, ait; cui fic extorta voluptas,
Et demtus per vim mentis gratiffinus error.
Nimirum fapere eft abjectis utile nugis,
Et tempeftivum pueris concedere ludum;
VER. 184. There liv'd in primo Georgii, etc.] The imitation of this ftory of the Madman is as much fuperior to his original, in the fine and eafy manner of telling, as that of Lucullus's Soldier comes fhort of it. It is true the turn
There liv'd in primo Georgii (they record)
A worthy member, no fmall fool, a Lord;
Who, tho' the Houfe was up, delighted fate,.
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate:
In all but this, a man of sober life,
Fond of his Friend, and civil to his Wife;
Not quite a mad-man, tho' a pasty fell,
And much too wife to walk into a well.
Him, the damn'd Doctors and his Friends immur'd,
They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in short, they
Whereat the gentleman began to stare—
My Friends! he cry'd, p-x take you for your care! That from a Patriot of distinguish'd note, 196
Have bled and purg'd me to a fimple Vote.
Well, on the whole, plain Prose must be my fate: Wisdom (curse on it) will come foon or late. There is a time when Poets will grow dull: I'll e'en leave verses to the boys at school: To rules of Poetry no more confin'd, I learn to smooth and harmonize my Mind, Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll, And keep the equal measure of the Soul.
Horace's madman took, agrees better with the subject of his Epiftle, which is Poetry; and doubtless there were other beauties in it, which time has deprived us of.
s Ac non verba fequi fidibus modulanda Latinis,
Sed verae numerofque modofque edifcere vitae. Quocirca mecum loquor haec, tacitufque recordor :
* Si tibi nulla fitim finiret copia lymphae, Narrares medicis: quod quanto plura parasti, Tanto plura cupis, nulline faterier audes?
v Si vulnus tibi monstrata radice vel herba
Non fieret levius, fugeres radice vel herba
Proficiente nihil curarier: audieras, cui
Rem Dî donarint, illi decedere pravam
Stultitiam; et, cum fis nihilo fapientior, ex quo
Plenior es, tamen uteris monitoribus îfdem ?
At fi divitiae prudentem reddere poffent,
Si cupidum timidumque minus te; nempe ruberes, Viveret in terris te fi quis avarior uno.
VER. 218. When golden Angels, etc.] This illuftration is much happier than that employed in his original; as by raifing pecuniary ideas, it prepares the mind for that mo rality it is brought to illuftrate.
s Soon as I enter at my country door,
My mind refumes the thread it dropt before;
Thoughts, which at Hyde-park-corner I forgot,
Meet and rejoin me, in the penfive Grot.
There all alone, and compliments apart,
I ask these fober questions of my heart.
* If, when the more you drink, the more you crave,
You tell the Doctor; when the more you have,
The more you want, why not with equal ease
Confefs as well your Folly, as Disease?
The heart refolves this matter in a trice,
"Men only feel the Smart, but not the Vice."
▾ When golden Angels cease to cure the Evil,
You give all royal Witchcraft to the Devil:
When fervile Chaplains cry, that birth and place 220
Indue a Peer with honour, truth, and grace,
Look in that breaft, moft dirty D-! be fair,
Say, can you find out one fuch lodger there?
Yet ftill, not heeding what your heart can teach,
You go to church to hear these Flatt'rers preach. 225
Indeed, could wealth bestow or wit or merit,
A grain of courage, or a spark of spirit,
The wifeft man might blush, I must agree,
If D*** lov'd fixpence, more than he.
VER. 220. When fervile Chaplains cry,] Dr. Ken-t VER. 229. lov'd fixpence,] Avarice, and the contempt of it, is well expreffed in these words.