Unlucky, as Fungofa in the play,

These sparks with awkward vanity display
What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
And but fo mimic ancient wits at beft,

As apes our grandfires in their doublets dreft.

In words, as fashions, the fame rule will hold ;
Alike fantastic, if too new or old :

Be not the first by whom the new are try'd

Nor yet the laft to lay the old afide.

But most by numbers judge a poet's fong;

330

335

And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:
In the bright Mufe though thousand charms confpire,
Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;

Who haunt Parnaffus but to please their ear,
Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair,
Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
Thefe, equal fyllables alone require,
Though oft the ear the open vowels tire;
While expletives their feeble aid do join;

And ten low words oft creep in one dull linė :
While they ring round the fame unvary'd chimes,
With fure returns of still expected rhymes;

340

345

Where'er you find " the cooling western breeze," 350

In the next line it "whispers through the trees:"

Li crystal streams" with pleasing murmurs creep,"

The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep
Then at the laft and only couplet fraught

With fome unmeaning thing they call a thought, 355 A needless

VARIATION.

Ver. 338. Ed. 1. And smooth or rough, with fuch, &c.,

A needlefs Alexandrine ends the fong,

That, like a wounded snake, drags its flow length along.
Leave fuch to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
What's roundly smooth, or languishingly flow;
And praise the eafy vigour of a line,

360

Where Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join, True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,

As thofe move easiest who have learn'd to dance.

"Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,

The found must seem an Echo to the sense:
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
But when loud furges lash the founding shore,

365

The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax ftrives fome rock's vaft weight to throw,
The line too labours, and the words move flow:
Not fo when swift Camilla fcours the plain,

Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main,
Hear how Timotheus' vary'd lays furprize,

And bid alternate paffions fall and rife!

While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
Now fighs steal out, and tears begin to flow :
Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor stood fubdued by found!
The
power of Mufic all our hearts allow,
And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 353, 364. Thefe lines are added.
Ver. 368. But when loud billows, &c."

375

380

Avoid

Avoid extremes; and fhun the fault of fuch, Who still are pleas'd too little or too much. trifle fcorn to take offence,

At every
That always fhews great pride, or little sense;
Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digeft.
Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;

385

390

For fools admire, but men of sense approve :

As things feem large which we through mists descry,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify.

Some foreign writers, fome our own despise;
The Ancients only, or the Moderns prize;
Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is apply'd
To one fmall fect, and all are damn'd befide.
Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
And force that fun but on a part to shine,
Which not alone the fouthern wit fublimes,
But ripens fpirits in cold northern climes;
Which from the first has fhone on ages past,
Enlights the prefent, and shall warm the last;
Though each
may feel encreases and decays,
And fee now clearer and now darker days.
Regard not then if wit be old or new,

395

4.00

405

But blame the false, and value ftill the true.

Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,

But catch the spreading notion of the town;

They reason and conclude by precedent,

410

And own stale, nonsense which they ne'er invent.

Some

VARIATION.

Ver. 394. Ed. 1. Some the French writers, &c.

Some judge of authors names, not works, and then
Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
Of all this fervile herd, the worst is he
That in proud dulnefs joins with quality;
A conftant Critic at the great man's board,
To fetch and carry nonfenfe for my Lord.
What woful ftuff this madrigal would be,
In fome starv'd hackney-fonneteer, or me!
But let a Lord once own the happy lines,

How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
Before his facred name flies every fault,
And each exalted stanza teems with thought!

415

420

The vulgar thus through imitation err;

As oft the Learn'd by being fingular;

425

So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng

By chance go right, they purposely go wrong:

So Schifmatics the plain believers quit,

And are but damn'd for having too much wit.

Some praise at morning what they blame at night; 430 But always think the last opinion right.

A Mufe by these is like a mistress us'd,

This hour the 's idoliz'd, the next abus'd;
While their weak heads like towns unfortify'd,

'Twixt sense and nonfenfe daily change their fide. 435
Ask them the cause; they're wifer still, they say;
And still to-morrow's wifer than to-day.

Ver.

VARIATIONS.

r. 413. Ed. 1. Nor praise nor damn, &c. Ver. 428. So Schifmatics the dull, &c.

We

We think our fathers fools; fo wife we grow;
Our wifer fons, no doubt, will think us fo.
Once School-divines this zealous ifle o'erfpread;
Who knew most fentences was deepest read:
Faith, gofpel, all, seem'd made to be difputed,
And none had sense enough to be confuted:

440

Scotifts and Thomifts, now in peace remain,

Amidft their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.

445

If Faith itself has different dreffes worn,

What wonder modes in Wit fhould take their turn?

Oft', leaving what is natural and fit,

The current folly proves the ready wit;
And authors think their reputation safe,

450

Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.
Some, valuing those of their own fide or mind,
Still make themselves the measure of mankind:
Fondly we think we honour merit then,

When we but praise ourselves in other men.

455

Parties in Wit attend on thofe of State,

And public faction doubles private hate.

VARIATION.

Ver. 447. Between this and yer. 448

Pride,

The rhyming Clowns that gladded Shakespeare's age, No more with crambo entertain the stage.

Who now in Anagrams their Patron praife,

Or fing their Mistress in Acroftic lays;
Ev'n pulpits pleas'd with merry puns of yore;
Now all are banish'd to th' Hibernian fhore!
Thus leaving what was natural and fit,
The current folly prov'd their ready wit;
And authors thought their reputation fafe,
Which liv'd as long as fools were pleas'd to laugh,