How fhall a new attempter learn
Of different fpirits to difcern,
And how diftinguith which is which,
The poet's vein, or fcribbling itch?
Then hear an old experienc'd finner,
Inftructing thus a young beginner.

Confult yourself, and if you find
A powerful impuife urge your mind,
Impartial judge within your breast
What subject you can manage beft;
Whether your genius moft inclines
To fatire, praife, or humourous lines,
To elegies in mournful tone,

Or prologue fent from hand unknown.
Then, rifing with Aurora's light,

The Mufe invok'd, fit down to write;
Blot out, correct, infert, refine,
Enlarge, diminish, interline;

Be mindful, when invention fails,

To fcratch your head, and bite your nails. Your poem finifh'd, next your care

Is needful to tranfcribe it fair.

In modern wit all printed trash is

Set off with numerous breaks and dafbes.

To ftatefmen would you give a wipe,

You print it in Italic type.

When letters are in vulgar fhapes,
'Tis ten to one the wit elcapes ;
But, when in capitals exprett,

The dulleft reader fmokes the jeft:
Or elfe perhaps he may invent

A better than the poet meant;
As learned commentators view
In Homer more than Homer knew.
Your poem in its modifh dress,
Correaly fitted for the prefs,
Convey by penny-poft to Lintot,
But let no friend alive look into 't.
If Lintot thinks 'twill quit the colt,
You need not fear your labour loft:
And how agreeably furpris d
Are you to fee it advertis'd!
The hawker fhews you one in print,
As fresh as farthings from the mint:
The product of your toil and fweating;

A bastard of your own begetting.

Be fure at Will's, the following day, Lie fnug, and hear what criticks fay; And, if you find the general vogue Pronounces you a ftupid rogue, Damns all your thoughts as low and little, Sit ftill, and fwallow down your fpittle. Be filent as a politician,

For talking may beget fufpicion :

Or praife the judgment of the town,
And help yourfelf to run it down.
Give up your fond paternal pride,
Nor argue on the weaker fide:
For poems read without a name
We justly praife, or juftly blame ;
And criticks have no partial views,
Except they know whom they abufe:
And, fince you ne'er provoke their spite,
Depend upon 't their judgment 's right.
But if you blab, you are undone :
Confider what a risk you run
VUL. V.

The loads of poems in his praise,
Afcending, make one funeral blaze:
As foon as you can hear his knell,
This god on earth turns devil in hell :
And lo! his minifters of flate,
Transform'd to imps, his levee wait;
Where, in the fcenes of endless woe,
They ply their former arts below;
And, as they fail in Charon's boat,
Contrive to bribe the judge's vote;
To Cerberus they give a fop,
His triple-barking mouth to flop;
Or in the ivory gate of dreams
Project Excife and South-fea schemes;
Or hire their party-pamphleteers
To fet Elyfium by the ears.

Then, poet, if you mean to thrive,
Employ your Mufe on kings alive;
With prudence gathering up a cluster
Of all the virtues you can mufter,
Which, form'd into a garland fweet,
Lay humbly at your monarch's feet;
Who, as the odours reach his throne,
Will fmile, and think them all his own;
For law and gefpel both determine

All virtues lodge in royal ermine:

(I mean the oracles of both,

Who fhall depofe it upon oath.)
Your garland in the following reign,
Change but the names, will do again.

But, if you think this trade too base,
(Which feldom is the dunce's cafe)
Put on the critick's brow, and fit
At Will's the puny judge of wit.
A nod, a fhrug, a fcornful fmile,
With caution us'd, may ferve a while.
Proceed no further in your part,
Before you learn the terms of art;
For you can never be too far gone
In all our modern criticks' jargon:
Then talk with more authentic face
Of unities, in time and place;
Get fcraps of Horace from your friends,
And have them at your fingers' ends;
Learn Ariftotle's rules by rote,
And at all hazards boldly quote;.
Judicious Rymer oft' review,
Wife Dennis, and profound Boffu;
Read all the prefaces of Dryden,
For these our criticks much confide in
(Though merely writ at firft for filling,
To raife the volume's price a fhilling).

A forward critick often dupes us With fham quotations peri buplus; And if we have not read Longinus, Will magifterially outfhine us.

Then, leit with Greek he over-run ye,
Procure the book for love or money,
Tranflated from Boileau's tranflation,
And quote quotation on quotation.

At Will's you hear a poem read,
Where Battus from the table-head,
Reclining on his elbow-chair,
Gives judgment with decifive air;
To whom the tribe of circling wits
As to an oracle fubmits.

225

Out-done by none in rhyming well,

Although he never learn'd to spell,

Two bordering wits contend for glory;

And one is Whig, and one is Tory:

And this for epics claims the bays,

230

And that for elegiac lays :

Some fam'd for numbers foft and smooth,

But these are not a thousandth part Of jobbers in the poet's art,

Attending each his proper ftation,
And all in due fubordination,
Through every alley to be found,

25 In garrets high, or under ground;
And when they join their pericranies,
Out fkips a book of mifcellanies
Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
Lives in a flare of war or nature.

255 The greater for the fmallest watch,
But meddle feldom with their match.
A whale of moderate fize will draw
A fhoal of herrings down his maw;
A fox with geefe his belly crams;

260 A wolf destroys a thousand lambs :
But fearch among the rhyming race,
The brave are worry'd by the base.
If on Parnaffus' top you sit,

You rarely bite, are always bit.

265

Each poet of inferior fize

On you shall rail and criticise,

And strive to tear you limb from limb; While others do as much for him.

The vermin only teafe and pinch
Their foes fuperior by an inch.
So, naturalifts obferve, a flea

Hath fmaller fleas that on him prey;

And these have smaller ftill to bite 'em,
And fo proceed ad infinitum.
Thus every poet in his kind

Is bit by him that comes behind;
Who, though too little to be feen,

Can teafe, and gall, and give the fpleen;
Call dunces fools and fous of whores,
Lay Grub-ftreet at each other's doors;
Extol the Greek and Roman masters,
And curfe our modern poetakers;
Complain, as many an ancient hard did,
How genius is no more rewarded;
How wrong a tafte prevails among us;
How much our ancestors outfung us;
Can perfonate an awkward fcorn
For those who are not poets born;
And all their brother dunces lafh,
Who croud the press with hourly trash.

O Grub-street! how do I bemoan thee, Whofe gracelefs children scorn to own thee! Their filial piety forgot,

Deny their country, like a Scot;
Though, by their idiom and grimace,
They foon betray their native place:
Yet thou haft greater caufe to be
Afham'd of them, than they of thee,
Degenerate from their ancient brood,
Since first the court allow'd them food,
Remains a difficulty ftill,

To purchase fame by writing ill.
From Flecknoe down to Howard's time,
How few have reach'd the low fublime!
For when our high-born Howard dy'd,
Blackmore alone his place fupply'd :
And, left a chafm fhould intervene,
When death had finish'd Blackmore's reign,
The leaden crown devolv'd to thee,
Great poet of the hollow tree.
But ah! how unfecure thy throne!
A thousand bards thy right difown:
They plot to turn, in factious zeal,
Duncenia to a common weal;
And with rebellious arms pretend
An equal privilege to defcend.

In bulk there are not more degrees
From elephants to mites in cheefe,
Than what a curious eye may trace
In creatures of the rhyming race.
From bad to worfe, and worse, they fall;
But who can reach the worst of all?
For though, in nature, depth and height
Are equally held infinite;

In poetry, the height we know; 'Tis only infinite below.

Oh, what indignity and fhame,

340 To proftitute the Mufe's name!

345

By flattering kings, whom Heaven defign'd
The plagues and fcourges of mankind;
Dred up in ignorance and floth,
And every vice that nurses both.

Fair Britain, in thy monarch bleft,
Whofe virtues bear the ftri&teft tell;
Whom never faction could befpatter,
Nor minister nor poet flatter;
What justice in rewarding merit!
350 What magnanimity of spirit!

What lineaments divine we trace
Through all his figure, mien, and face!
Though peace with olive bind his hands,
Confefs'd the conquering hero ftands.

355 Hydafpes, Indus, and the Ganges,
Dread from his hand impending changes.
From him the Tartar and the Chinefe,
Short by the knees, intreat for peace.
The confort of his throne and bed,
A perfect goddefs born and bred,
Appointed fovereign judge to fit
On learning, cloquence, and wit.

360

Our eldest hope, divine lülus, (Late, very late, oh may he rule us!)

365 What early manhood has he fhewn, Before his downy beard was grown! Then think, what wonders will be done, By going on as he begun,

Attend, ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays,
And tune your harps, and ftrow your bays;
Your panegyricks here provide;
You cannot err on flattery's fide.
Above the ftars exalt your ftyle,
You ftill are low ten thousand mile.
On Lewis all his bards beftow'd
Of incenfe many a thoufand load;
But Europe mortify'd his pride,
And fwore the fawning rafcals ly'd.
Yet what the world refus'd to Lewis,
Apply'd to George, exactly true is.
Exactly true! invidious poet!
"I is fifty thoufand times below it.

Tranflate me now fome lines, if you can,
From Virgil, Ovid, Martial, Lucan.
They could all power in Heaven divide,
And do no wrong on either fide;
They teach you how to fplit a hair,
Give George and Jove an equal share.
Yet why fhould we be lac'd fo ftrait?
I'll give my monarch butter-weight.
And reafon good; for many a year
Jove never intermeddled here:
Nor, though his pricfts be duly paid,
Did ever we defire his aid:

We now can better do without him,
Since Woolfion gave us arms to rout him.
Cetera defiderantur.

470

475

480

485

Beauteous Helen, young and gay,
By a painted fopling won,
Went not first, fair nymph, aftray,
Fondly pleas'd to be undone.

Nor young Tencer's flaughtering bow,
Nor bold Hector's dreadful fword,
Alone the terrors of the foe,

Sow'd the field with hoftile blood.

Many valiant chiefs of old

Greatly liv'd and died, before
Agamemnon, Grecian bold,

Wag'd the ten years' famous war.
But their names, unfung, unwept,
Unrecorded, loft and gone,
Long in endless night have flept,

And fhall now no more be known.

Virtue, which the poet's care

Has not well confign'd to fame,
Lies, as in the fepulchre

Some old king without a name.

499 But, O Humphry, great and free, While my tuneful fongs are read, Old forgetful Time on thee

TO HUMPHRY FRENCH, Efq. 1733.

PATRON of the tuneful throng,

Oh! too nice, and too fevere! 1hink not that my country fong

Shall difplcafe thy honest ear. Chofen ftrains I proudly bring ;

Which the Mufes' facred choir, When they gods and heroes fing, Dictate to th' harmonious lyre. Ancient Homer, princely bard!

Just precedence ftill maintains, With facred rapture ftill are heard Theban Pindar's lofty trains. Still the old triumphant fong, Which, when hated tyrants fell, Great Alcaps boldly fung, Warns, infructs, and pleafes well. Kor has Time's all-darkening shade in obfcure oblivion prefs'd What Anacreon laugh'd and play'd; Gay Anacreon, drunken priest ! Gentle Sappho, love-fick Mufe, Warms the heart with amorous fire; Still her tendereft notes infufe Melting rapture, foft defire.

* Lord-mayor of Dublin. N,

Dark oblivion ne'er fhall spread.

When the deep-cut notes fhall fade
On the mouldering Parian stone,
On the brafs no more be read

The perifhing infeription;
Forgotten all the enemies,

Envious Gn's curled fpite,
And Piderogating lies,
Loft and funk in Stygian night;
Still thy labour and thy care,

What for Dublin thou hast donc,
In full luftre fhall appear,

And outfhine th' unclouded fun.

Large thy mind, and not untried,

For Hibernia now doth stand;
Through the calm, or raging tide,

Safe conducts the ship to land.
Falfely we call the rich man great;
He is only fo that knows
His plentiful or fmall eftate
Wifely to enjoy and ufe.
He, in wealth or poverty,

Fortune's power alike defies;
And falfehood and dishonesty

More than death abhors and flies: Flies from death!-No, meets it brave, When the fuffering fo fevere May from dreadful bondage fave Clients, friends, or country dear. This the fovercign man, compleat; Hero; patriot; glorious; free; Rich and wife; and good and great; Generous Humphry, thou art He.

A NEW