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Such fecrets are not eafily found out;
But, once discover'd, leave no room for doubt.
Troth ftamps conviction in your ravifh'd breaft,
And peace and joy attend the glorious gueft.
Truth ftill is one; truth is divinely bright;
No cloudy doubts obfcure her native light;
While in your thoughts you find the leaft debate,
You may confound, but never can translate.
Your ftyle will this through all difguifes fhew,,
For none explain more clearly than they know.
He only proves he understands a text,
Whofe expofition leaves it unperplex'd.
They who too faithfully on names infist,
Rather create than diffipate the mist;
And grow unjuft by being over-nice,
(For fuperftitious virtue turns to vice).
Let Craffus** ghost and Labienus tell
How twice in Parthian plains their legions fell;
Since Rome hath been fojealous of her fame,
That few know Pacorus' or Monæ fes' name.
Words in one language elegantly us'd,

Will hardly in another be excus'd.

And fome that Rome admir'd in Cæfar's time.
May neither fuit our genius nor our clime.
The genuine fenfe, intelligibly told,

Shews a tranflator both difcreet and bold.

Excurfions

Hor. iii. Od. 6.

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Excurfions are inexpiably bad;

And 'tis much fafer to leave out than add. Abftrufe and myftic thoughts you must-exprefs o With painful care, but feeming cafinefs:

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For truth fhines brightest thro' the plainest dress.]
Th' Ænean Mufe, when fhe appears in state,
Makes all Jove's thunder on her verfes wait of
Yet writes fometimes as foft and moving things
As Venus fpeaks, or Philomela fings.

Your author always will the beft advise,
Fall when he falls, and when he rifes rife.
Affected noife is the moft wretched thing
That to contempt can empty fcribblers bring.
Vowels and accents, regularly plac'd,
On even fyllables (and ftill the laft)
Though grofs innumerable faults abound,
In fpite of nonfenfe, never fail of found.
But this is meant of even verfe alone,

As being moft harmonious and most known :
For if you will unequal numbers try,

There accents on odd fyllables muft lie.
Whatever fifter of the learned Nine

Does to your fuit a willing ear incline,
Urge your fuccefs, deferve a lafting name,
She'll crown a grateful and a conftant flame.
But if a wild uncertainty prevail.

And turn your veering heart with ev'ry gale,
You lofe the fruit of all your former care

For the fad profpect of a just despair.

A quack

A quack (too fcandaloufly mean to name) Had, by man-midwifery, got wealth and fame: As if Lucina had forgot her trade,

The labouring wife invokes his furer aid.
Well-feafon'd bowls the goffip's fpirits raife,
Who, while the guzzles, chats the doctor's praife;
And largely what fhe wants in words fupplies,
With maudlin-eloquence of trickling eyes.
But what a thoughtless animal is man!
How very active in his own trepan!
For, greedy of phyficians frequent foes,
From female mellow praise he takes degrees;
Struts in a new unlicens'd gown, and then,
From faving women, falls to killing men.
Another fuch had left the nation thin,
In fpite of all the children he brought in.
His pills as thick as hand-granadoes flew :
And where they fell, as certainly they flew;
His name ftruck
every where as great a damp
As Archimedes through the Roman camp.
With this, the doctor's pride began to cool;
For fmarting foundly may convince a fool.
But now repentance came too late for grace;
And meager famine ftar'd him in the face :
Fain would he to the wives be reconcil'd,

But found no hufband left to own a child.

The friends that got the brats were poison'd too ; In this fad cafe, what could our vermin do?

Worrled

Worried with debts, and past all hope of bail,
Th' unpitied wretch lies rotting in a jail:
And there, with basket-alms fcarce kept alive,
Shews how mistaken talents ought to thrive.
I pity, from my foul, unhappy men.
Compell'd by want to proflitute their pen;
Who muft, like lawyers, either flarve or plead,
And follow, right or wrong, where guineas lead!
But you, Pompilian, wealthy pamper'd heirs,
Who to your country owe your fwords and cares,
Let no vain hope your eafy mind feduce,
For rich ill poets are without excufe,
'Tis very dangerous, tampering with a mufe ;
The profit's fmall, and you have much to lose :
For though true wit adorns your birth and place,
Degenerate lines degrade th' attainted race.
No poet any paflion can excite

But what they feel tranfport them when they write.
Have you been led through the Cumaan cave,
And heard the impatient maid divinely rave?
I hear her now! I fee her rolling eyes:

And panting, Lo! the god, the god, fhe cries;
With words not hers, and more than human found,
She makes th' obedient ghofts peep trembling thro' the
ground.

But, tho' we muil obey when Heaven commands,

And man in vain the facred call withflands,

Beware

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Beware what fpirit rages in your breaft;
For ten infpir'd, ten thousand are poffeft.
Thus make the proper ufe of each extreme,
And write with fury, but correct with phlegm.
As when the cheerful hours too freely pafs,
And sparkling wine fmiles in the tempting glass,
Your pulfe advifes, and begins to beat
Through ev'ry fwelling vein a loud retreat :
So when a mufe propitioufly invites,
Improve her favours, and indulge her flights;
But when you find that vigorous heat abate,
Leave off, and for another fummons wait.
Before the radiant fun a glimmering lamp,
Adulterate metals to the fterling ftamp,
Appear not meaner than mere human lines,
Compar'd with thofe whofe infpiration fhines:
Thefe nervous, bold; thofe languid and remifs

There, cold falutes; but here a lover's kifs.

Thus have I feen a rapid headlong tide

With foaming waves the paffive Soane divide;

Whofe lazy waters without motion lay,

While he, with eager force, urg'd his impetuous way.

The privilege that ancient poets claim,,

Now turn'd to licence by too juft a name,
Belongs to none but ap eftablifh'd fame,
Which fcorns to take it

Abfurd expreffions, crude, abortive thoughts,
All the lewd legion of exploded faults,

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Bafe.

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