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UI legis Amiffam Paradifum, grandia magni
Et fine fine magis, fi quid magis eft fine fine,
Et quæ cœleftes pugna deceret agros!
Dum ferus hic ftellas protegit, ille rapit !
Dum vulfos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent,
Ad pœnas fugiunt, & ceu foret Orcus afylum,
Cedite Romani Scriptores, cedite Graii,
fama recens vel celebravit anus.
Hæc quicunque leget tantùm ceciniffe putabit
SAMUEL BARROW, M. D.
HEN I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
Meffiah crown'd, God's reconcil'd decree,
Rebelling Angels, the forbidden tree,
Heaven, Hell, Earth, Chaos, all; the argument
Yet as I read, ftill growing less severe,
Through that wide field how he his way fhould find,
Or if a work fo infinite he spann'd,
Might hence prefume the whole creation's day
Thou haft not miss'd one thought that could be fit,
So that no room is here for writers left,
That majefty which through thy work doth reign, Draws the devout, deterring the profane.
And things divine thou treat'st of in such state
you fing So never flags, but always keeps on wing.
Where couldst thou words of fuch a compass find ♪ Whence furnish fuch a vaft expence of mind? Juft Heaven thee, like Tirefias, to requite Rewards with prophecy thy loss of fight.
Well might'ft thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure; While the town-bays writes all the while and spells, And like a pack-horfe tires without his bells: Their fancies like our bushy-points appear, The poets tag them, we for fashion wear. I too, transported by the mode, offend, And while I meant to praise thee must commend. Thy verfe created like thy theme fublime, Number, weight, and meafure, needs not rhyme.
To Mr. JOHN MILTON,
On his Poem entitled PARADISE LOST. Thou! the wonder of the prefent age,
An age immerft in luxury and vice;
A race of triflers; who can relish naught
How couldst thou hope to please this tinfel race?
The labyrinth perplex'd of Heaven's decrees;
F. C. 1680.
THE VERS E.
HE measure is English heroic verse without
rhyme, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin; rhyme being no neceffary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works efpecially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to fet off wretched matter and lame meter; graced indeed fince by the ufe of fome famous modern poets, carried away by cuftom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to exprefs many things otherwise, and for the moft part worse than elfe they would have expreffed them. Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme both in longer and shorter works, as have also long fince our beft English tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true mufical delight; which confifts only in apt numbers, fit quantity of fyllables, and the fense variously drawn out from one verfe into another, not in the jingling found of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned Ancients both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then VOL. I. B