cou'd have better tim'd your compliment on my Philofophy; it was certainly propereft to commend me for it just when I moft needed it, and when I cou'd least be proud of it; that is, when I was in pain. 'Tis not easy to exprefs what an exaltation it gave to my Spirits, above all the cordials of my Doctor; and 'tis no compliment to tell you, that your Compliments were fweeter than the fweeteft of his Juleps and Syrups.: But if you will not believe fo much,

Pour le moins, votre Compliment
M'a foulage dans ce moment;
Et des qu'on me l'eft venu faire,
J'ay chaffe mon Apoticaire,
Et renvoye mon Lavement.

Nevertheless I wou'd not have you entirely lay afide the thoughts of my Epitaph, any more than I do thofe of the probability of my becoming (ere long) the fubject of one. For Death has of late been very familiar with fome of my Size; I am told my Lord Lumley and Mr. Litton are gone before me; and tho' I may now without vanity esteem myself the least thing like a man in England, yet I can't but be forry, two Heroes of fuch a make fhou'd die inglorious in their beds; when it had been a

fate

fate more worthy our fize, had they met
with theirs from an irruption of Cranes, or
other warlike Animals, thofe antient ene-
mies to our Pygmaan Ancestors! You of a
fuperior fpecies little regard what befals us
Homunciolos Sefquipedales; however
you have
no reafon to be fo unconcern'd, fince all Phy-
ficians agree there is no greater fign of a
Plague among Men, than a Mortality among
Frogs. I was the other day in company
with a Lady, who rally'd my Perfon so much,
as to caufe a total fubverfion of my counte-
nance: Some days after, to be reveng'd on
her, I prefented her among other company
the following Rondeau on that occafion,
which I defire you to fhow Sapho.

You know where you did defpife
(T'other day) my little Eyes,
Little Legs, and little Thighs,
And fome things of little Size,

You know where

You, 'tis true, have fine black, Eyes,
Taper Legs, and tempting Thighs,
Yet what more than all we prize
Is a thing of little Size,

You know where.

This

This fort of writing call'd the Rondeau is what I never knew practis'd in our Nation, and I verily believe it was not in use with the Greeks or Romans, neither Macrobius nor Hyginus taking the leaft notice of it. "Tis to be obferv'd, that the vulgar spelling and pronouncing it Round O, is a manifeft Corruption, and by no means to be allow'd of by Critics. Some may mistakenly imagine that it was a fort of Rondeau which the Gallick Soldiers fung in Cafar's Triumph over Gaul-Gallias Cæfar fubegit, &c. as it is recorded by Suetonius in Julio, and fo derive its original from the antient Gauls to the modern French: but this is erroneous; the words there not being rang'd according to the Laws of the Rondeau, as laid down by Clement Marot. If you will fay, that the Song of the Soldiers might be only the rude beginning of this kind of Poem, and so confequently imperfect, neither Heinfius nor I can be of that opinion; and fo I conclude, that we know nothing of the matter.

But, Sir, I ask your pardon for all this Buffoonry, which I could not addrefs to any one fo well as to you, fince I have found by experience, you moft eafily forgive my impertinencies. 'Tis only to fhow you that I am mindful of you at all times; that I write at all times; and as nothing I can fay can be worth your reading, fo I may as

well

well throw out what comes uppermot, as ftudy to be dull. I am, &c.

Mr. C..... to Mr. POPE.

A

July 15, 1710.

T laft I have prevail'd over a lazy humour to tranfcribe this Elegy: I have chang'd the fituation of fome of the Latin Verfes, and made fome Interpolations, but I hope they are not abfurd, and foreign to my author's fenfe and manner; but they are refer'd to your cenfure, as a debt; whom I efteem no lefs a Critic than a Poet: I expect to be treated with the fame rigour as I have practis'd to Mr. Dryden and you,

-Hanc veniam petimufq; damufq; vicefim.

I defire the favour of your opinion, why Priam, in his fpeech to Pyrrhus in the fecond Eneid, fays this to him,

At non ille fatum quo te mentiris, Achilles.

He wou'd intimate (I fancy by Pyrrhus's anfwer) only his degeneracy: but then these following lines of the Verfion (I suppose

from

from Homer's Hiftory) feem abfurd in the mouth of Priam, viz.

He chear'd my forrows, and for fums of gold, The bloodless carcase of my Hector fold.

I am,

Your, &c.

I

Mr. POPE's Answer.

July 20, 1710.

Give you thanks for the Verfion you fent me of Ovid's Elegy. It is very much an image of that author's writing, who has an agreeableners that charms us without correctnefs, like a mistress whofe faults we fee, but love her with them all. You have very judicioufly alter'd his method in fome places, and I can find nothing which I dare infift upon as an error: What I have written in the margins being merely Gueffes at a little improvement, rather than Cricicifms. I affure you I do not expect 'you' fhou'd fubfcribe to my private notions but when you fhall judge 'em agreeable to reafon and good fenfe. What I have done is not as a Critic, but as a Friend; I'know too well' how many qualities are requifite to make up the one, and that I want almost all