defended. That I ufed no artifice to raise or continue a reputation, depreciated no dead author I was obliged to, bribed no living one with unjust praise, insulted no adversary with ill language; or, when I could not attack a Rival's works, encouraged reports against his Morals. To conclude, if this volume perish, let it ferve as a warning to the Critics, not to take too much pains for the future to deftroy fuch things as will die of themselves; and a Memento mori to fome of my vain contemporaries the Poets, to teach them that, when real merit is wanting, it avails nothing to have been encouraged by the great, commended by the eminent, and favoured by the public in general.

Nov. 10, 1716.

Variations in the Author's Manuscript

A

Preface.

4.

FTER pag. xvii. 1. it followed thusFor my part, I confefs, had I seen things in this view at first, the public had never been troubled either with my writings, or with this apology for them. I am fenfible how difficult it is to fpeak of ones felf with decency: but when a man muft fpeak of himself, the best way is to speak truth of himself, or, he may depend upon it, others will do it for him, I'll

therefore make this Preface a general confeffion of all my thoughts of my own Poetry, refolving with the fame freedom to expofe myself, as it is in the power of any other to expose them. In the first place, I thank God and nature, that I was born with a love to poetry; for nothing more conduces to fill up all the intervals of our time, or if rightly used, to make the whole course of life entertaining: Cantantes licet ufque (minus via lædet.) 'Tis a vast happiness to poffefs the pleasures of the head, the only pleasures in which a man is fufficient to himself, and the only part of him which, to his fatisfaction, he can employ all day long. The Mufes are amic omnium horarum; and, like our gay acquaintance, the best company in the world as long as one expects no real fervice from them. I confefs there was a time when I was in love with myself, and my first productions were the children of felf love upon innocence. I had made an Epic Poem, and Panegyrics on all the Princes in Europe, and thought myself the greatest genius that ever was. I can't but regret those delightful vifions of my childhood, which, like the fine colours we fee when our eyes are shut, are vanished for ever. Many tryals and fad experience have fo undeceived me by degrees, that I am utterly at a lofs at what rate to value myself. As for fame I fhall be glad of any I can get, and not repine at any I miss; and as for va

nity, I have enough to keep me from hanging myself, or even from wishing those hanged who would take it away. It was this that made me write. The fenfe of my faults made me correct: besides that it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write.

p.

At xix. 1. 12. In the first place I own that I have used my beft endeavours to the finishing thefe pieces. That I made what advantage I could of the judgment of authors dead and living; and that I omitted no means in my power to be informed of my errors by my friends and my enemies: And that I expect no favour on account of my youth, bufinefs, want of health, or any fuch idle excufes. But the true reafon they are not yet more correct is owing to the confideration how short a time they, and I, have to live. A man that can expect but sixty years may be ashamed to employ thirty in measuring fyllables and bringing fenfe and rhyme together. We spend our youth in pursuit of riches or fame, in hopes to enjoy them when we are old, and when we are old, we find it is too late to enjoy any thing. I therefore hope the Wits will pardon me, if I reserve some of my time to save my foul; and that fome wife men will be of my opinion, even if I should think a part of it better spent in the enjoyments of life than in pleafing the critics.

On Mr. POPE and his Poems,

By His GRACE

JOHN SHEFFIEL D,

W

Duke of BUCKINGHAM.

ITH Age decay'd, with Courts and
bus'nefs tir'd,

Caring for nothing but what Eafe requir'd;
Too dully serious for the Muse's sport,
And from the Critics fafe arriv'd in Port;
I little thought of launching forth agen,
Amidst advent'rous Rovers of the Pen:
And after fo much undeferv'd fuccefs,
Thus hazarding at last to make it lefs.
Encomiums fuit not this cenforious time,
Itself a Subject for fatyric rhyme;
Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd!
But to this Genius, join'd with so much Art,
Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part,

5

10

Poets are bound a loud applaufe to pay;
Apollo bids it, and they must obey.

And

yet

15

fo wonderful, fublime a thing, As the great ILIAD, fcarce could make me fing; Except I justly could at once commend A good Companion, and as firm a Friend. One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed Can all defert in Sciences exceed.

20

"Tis great delight to laugh at fome mens ways, But a much greater to give Merit praise.

To Mr. POPE on his Paftorals.

5

IN these more dull, as more cenforious days,
When few dare give, and fewer merit praise,
A Mufe fincere, that never Flatt'ry knew,
Pays what to friendship and defert is due.
Young, yet judicious; in your verfe are found
Artftrength'ning Nature, Senfe improv'd by Sound.
Unlike those Wits, whose numbers glide along
So fmooth, no thought e'er interrupts the fong:
Laboriously enervate they appear,

And write not to the head, but to the ear: