« PreviousContinue »
You laugh, if coat and breeches strangely vary,
175 figure, rot to Me. Is this my * Guide, Philosopher, and Friend? This he, who loves me, and who ought to mend ; Who ought to make me (what he can, or none,) That Man divine whom Wisdom calls her own; 180 Great without Title, without Fortune bless'd; Rich Y ey'n when plunder'd, 2 honour'd while op
press'd ; Lov'd a without youth, and follow'd without power ; At home, tho' exil'd; b free, tho' in the Tower ; In short, that reas’ning, high, immortal Thing ; 185 Juft less than Jove, and d much above a King, Nay, half in heav'n-e except (what's mighty odd) A fit of Vapours clouds this Demy-God?
Kind to my
NIL admirari, prope res est una, Numici,
Solaque quae poffit facere et fervare beatum.
b Hunc folem, et ftellas, & decedentia certis
Tempora momentis, funt qui formi line nulla
Imbuti fpectent. & quid cenfes,
munera terrae ?
Quid, maris extremos Arabas
ditantis et Indos ?
VER. 3. dear MURRAY,] This Piece is the most finished of all his imitations, and executed in the high manner the Italian Painters call con amore. By which they mean, the exertion of that principle, which puts the faculties on the ftretch, and produces the fupreme degree of excellence. For the Poet had all the warmth of affection for the great Lawyer to whom it is addreffed: and, indeed, no man ever more deserved to have a Poet for his friend. In the obtaining of which, as neither Vanity, Party, nor Fear, had any share ; fo he fupported his title to it by all the offices of true Friendship. VER. 4. Creech] From whose translation of Horace the two first lines are taken.
VER, 6. ftars that rife and fall,] The original is,
To Mr. MURRAY.
OT to admire, is all the Art I know,
make me happy, and to keep them fo."
(Plain Truth, dear MURRAY, needs no flow'rs of speech,
So take it in the very words of Creech.)
b This Vault of Air, this congregated Ball, S Self-center'd Sun, and Stars that rise and fall, There are, my Friend! whose philofophic eyes Look thro', and trust the Ruler with his skies, To him commit the hour, the day, the year, And view this dreadful All without a fear. Admire we then what Earth's low entrails hold, Arabian fhores, or Indian feas infold;
All the mad trade of Fools and Slaves for Gold?
which words fimply and literally fignify, the change of feafons. But this change being confidered as an object of admiration, his imitator has judiciously expressed it in the more fublime figurative terms of
Stars that rife and fall.
by whofe courfes the feasons are marked and distinguished. VER, 8. truft the Ruler with his Skies. To him commit the bour,] Our Author, in these imitations, has been all along careful to correct the loose morals, and abfurd divinity of his Original.