"Oh but a Wit can study in the streets,
"And raise his mind above the mob he meets."
Not quite fo well however as one ought;
A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a thought;
And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead,
God knows, may hurt the very ableft head.
Have you not seen, at Guildhall's narrow pass,
Two Aldermen dispute it with an Ass?
And Peers give way, exalted as they are,
Ev'n to their own S-r-v-nce in a Car?
* Go, lofty Poet! and in fuch a croud, Sing thy fonorous verfe-but not aloud. Alas! to Grottoes and to Groves we run, To eafe and filence, every Mufe's fon : Blackmore himself, for any grand effort,
Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's-Court.
How fhall I rhyme in this eternal roar?
How match the bards whom none e'er match'd before?
Hic extremo in Aventino; vifendus uterque.
Intervalla vides humane commoda. "Verum
"Purae funt plateae, nihil ut meditantibus obftet.'
Feftinat calidus mulis gerulifque redemtor :
Torquet nunc lapidem, nunc ingens machina tignum
Triftia robuftis luctantur funera plauftris :
Hac rabiofa fugit canis, hac lutulenta ruit fus.
k I nunc, et verfus tecum meditare canoros.
Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes,
Rite cliens Bacchi, fomno gaudentis et umbra.
1 The Man, who, stretch'd in Ifis' calm retreat,
To books and study gives seven years complete,
See! ftrow'd with learned duft, his nightcap on,
He walks, an object new beneath the fun!
The boys flock round him, and the people stare: 120
So ftiff, fo mute! fome ftatue you would swear,
Stept from its Pedestal to take the air!
And here, while town, and court, and city roars,
With mobs, and duns, and foldiers, at their doors;
Shall I, in London, act this idle part?
Compofing fongs, for Fools to get by heart?
m The Temple late two brother Sergeants faw,
Who deem'd each other Oracles of Law;
With equal talents, these congenial fouls,
One lull'd th' Exchequer, and one stunn'd the Rolls;
Each had a gravity would make you split,
And shook his head at Murray, as a Wit,
Tu me inter ftrepitus nocturnos atque diurnos
Vis canere, et contracta fequi vestigia vatum ?
1 Ingenium, fibi quod vacuas defumfit Athenas,
Et ftudiis annos feptem dedit, infenuitque
Libris et curis, ftatua taciturnius exit
Plerumque, et rifu populum quatit; hic ego rerum
Fluctibus in mediis, et tempeftatibus urbis,
Verba lyrae motura fonum connectere digner?
m Frater erat Romae confulti rhetor; ut alter
Alterius fermone meros audiret honores :
Gracchus ut hic illi, foret huic ut Mucius ille.
Quî minus argutos vexat furor ifte poetas ?
'Twas, "Sir, your law"- " and "Sir, your eloquence," "Yours, Cowper's manner-and yours, Talbot's fenfe." n Thus we difpofe of all poetic merit,
Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit.
Call Tibbald Shakespeare, and he'll fwear the Nine,
Dear Cibber! never match'd one Ode of thine.
Lord! how we ftrut through Merlin's Cave, to see
No Poets there, but Stephen, you, and me.
Walk with refpect behind, while we at ease
Weave laurel Crowns, and take what names we please. "My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do,
"Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you : "Or, I'm content, allow me Dryden's ftrains, "And you shall rife up Otway for your pains." Much do I fuffer, much, to keep in peace This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming race; And
n Carmina compono, hic elegos; mirabile vifu,
Caelatumque novem Mufis opus, afpice primum,
Quanto cum faftu, quanto molimine circum-
fpectemus vacuam Romanis vatibus aedem.
Mox etiam (fi forte vacas) fequere, et procul audi,
Quid ferat, et quare fibi nectat uterque coronam.
Caedimur et totidem plagis confumimus hoftem,
Lento Samnites ad lumina prima duello.
Difcedo Alcaeus puncto illius; ille meo quis?
Quis, nifi Callimachus? fi plus adpofcere vifus:
Fit Mimnermus, et optivo cognomine crefcit.
Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum,
Cum fcribo, et fupplex populi fuffragia capto;
And much muft flatter, if the whim fhould bite
To court applause by printing what I write :
But let the fit pafs o'er, I'm wife enough
To ftop my ears to their confounded stuff.
• In vain, bad Rhymers all mankind reject,
They treat themselves with most profound respect ;
'Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue,
Each prais'd within, is happy all day long:
But how feverely with themselves proceed
The men, who write fuch Verse as we can read?
Their own ftri&t Judges, not a word they spare,
That wants or force, or light, or weight, or care,
Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place,
Nay though at Court (perhaps) it may find grace:
Such they'll degrade; and fometimes, in its stead,
P In downright charity revive the dead;
Idem, finitis ftudiis, et mente recepta,
Obturem patulas impune legentibus aures.
• Ridentur mala qui componunt carmina: verum
Gaudent fcribentes, et fe venerantur, et ultro,
Si taceas, laudant; quidquid fcripfere, beati.
At qui legitimum cupiet feciffe poema,
Cum tabulis animum cenforis fumet honefti :
Audebit quaecunque parum fplendoris habebunt,
Et fine pondere erunt, et honore indigna ferentur,
Verba movere loco; quamvis invita recedant,
Et verfentur adhuc intra penetralia Vestae :
p Obfcurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque
Proferet in lucem fpeciofa vocabula rerum,
Mark where a bold expreffive phrase appears,
Bright through the rubbish of some hundred years;
Command old words that long have flept, to wake,
Words, that wise Bacon, or brave Rawleigh spake;
Or bid the new be English, ages hence,
(For Ufe will father what's begot by Senfe)
Then polish all, with fo much life and eafe,
You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please :
"But ease in writing flows from Art, not chance;
"As thofe move easiest who have learn'd to dance."
q If fuch the plague and pains to write by rule,
Better (fay I) be pleas'd, and play the fool;
Quae prifcis memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis,
Nunc fitus informis premit et deferta vetuftas :
Adfcifcet nova, quae genitor produxerit usus :
Vehemens et liquidus, puroque fimillimus amni,
Fundet opes, Latiumque beabit divite lingua ;
Luxuriantia compefcet: nimis afpera fano
Levabit cultu, virtute carentia tollet:
Laudentis fpeciem dabit, torquebitur, ut qui
Nunc Satyrum, nunc agreftem Cyclopa movetur.
Praetulerim fcriptor delirus inerfque videri,
Dum mea delectent mala me, vel denique fallant,
Quam fapere, et ringi. Fuit haud ignobilis Argis,
|