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each other, and a plain Declaration of their mutual Intention of paffing the Remainder of their Lives together. I am afraid very few of our Poets (Pastotal Writer know I none) are able to paint such a Scene; it would keep them too closely confined to Nature, from whence they are Aed far away; and, instead of looking round on all Sides, opening eachi Ear, and studying Mankind and the Operations of Nature working every-where; look only into their own barren Bofoms, where is nothing but Stuff which they weave their Fustian out of; they have added Pride to their Ignorance, and nothing, it is to be fear’d, can reform or do them good; nothing indeed is fo likely as good Example, which certainly, as the Proverb teaches goes beyond Precept: But unhappily for them and us, thefe Gentlemen, tho they write much, feldom or never read; except the Title-Pages of Books and Gildon's Dictionary of Rhymes, which a young Smatterer the other Day told us, had every Rhime of Mr. Pope's in it, except two or three Proper Names. Thus set up for Poets they go to Work; the fuft Thing they attempt is a Song, where, after having wiredrawil one poor Thought 'till it will hold out no longer, they catch hold of some false Image or Sentiment, and very mufically and nonsenfically conclude.,

One prays for Fruit, after gathering all the Blog: foms from the Tree ; another, that as the loud Thunder did not daunt nor wound hit, so he mayn't die by the Lightning, which he supposes is to come after ; a Third says, back to the Rivers let the Fountains flow; a Fourth defcribes a Mistress reclining over a Stream. These, and fuch as these, are the bleft Effects of much Presumption, a little dangerous Learning, and the Vanity of being call'd a Poet, Nor is it strange, that fome of these Songs are set by more than one or M 2


two Composers; for the Authors arc hard to be put · by, and do not easily take a Denial : Nay, they · have been seen making a Voyage to another Kingdom,

in Hopes to put Songs on Foot there, suitable to what they imagine the Genius of the Nation.

But, dear Countrymen, pocket up your Mistakes, and know that it promises fair, there shall be no Diftinction of Taste between England and Ireland;

and look up (we own it is a great Way up, and e"nough to dazzle such weak Eyes) to the Poets we

have lately quoted: Make Mr. Pope your Example, and carefully read Mr. Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepi pherd, and the Songs there; so by Degrees (if Nature has not positively denied it) you may, though

perhaps late, get into the Road of Sense and good I*mitation; and for a Scene of reciprocal Love, such ás but now we were speaking about, keep in Mind the following, which is inimitable, and yet quite beautiful: : Coi . . Patie.

Here, where Primroses thickest paint the Green, • Hard by this little Burnie let us lean. · Hark how the * Lav'rocks chant aboon our Heads, . How faft the Westlin Winds fough thro' the Reeds.

.: Peggy. • The scented Meadows, Birds, and healthy Breeze, For ought I ken, may mair than Peggy pleafe...

t . Patie. Ye wrang me fair, td doulit my being kind; In speaking Tae,' me dull and blind. Gif I could fancy aught's fae sweet or fair As my sweet Meg, or worthy of my Care. ..Larks.

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