to confift of the finest Descriptions of the Paffions,' of Landskape, Actions of the moft graceful and moving Kind, and inferior to no other Kind of Poetry whatever.

This Digreffion was made on the Mention of Mr. Gay in the Epiftle to Dr. Arbuthnot, which, though it mentions Mr. Gay with Praife, is not very full of that Sort of Addrefs: It was indeed defign'd a Satyr, and Sporus, who in the firft Edition was call'd Paris, and is in real Life the fame as Lord Fanny, lies under a most unmerciful Lafh; Mr. Pope, whenever he takes this Gentleman in Hand, feems to have a particular Delight in touching him to the very Quick; nay, he has turn'd the Fineness of his Perfon to what Difadvantage he could, for my Lord had a very partiular Softnefs, and a Clearness of Complexion ufual to few Men, infomuch that when he was married, it occafioned a Ballad, Part of which was:

For Venus had never feen bedded

So perfect a Beau and a Belle,

As when H--r--y the handfome was married.
To the beautiful Molly Le P--l.

(

But the first Bloom of his Youth was worn off, before Mr. Pope had any Thing fatirical to fay of him, the Occafion he took, was from my Lord's Behaviour after he became a Courtier, when it was imagin'd he said something of Difadvantage to Mr. Pope to the late Queen, and to a certain Duke, of whom we have before fpoke, befides his Epiftle to a Doctor of Divinity, where he dropt an Allufion to fcandalous Reports made of Mr. Pope, farther intimating, that he was a Mechanick, fome faid a Hatter, fome a Farmer, nay, a Bankrupt, which latter falfe Character this Nobleman (if fuch a Reflection could be thought to come from a Nobleman) gave

into. Mr. Pope never wrote Replies to Curl's, to his, or other Pamphlets, but in a few Lines, occafionally as he wrote, generally anfwered the fame End: He begins this cutting Piece of Satire with a Threat:

Let Sporus tremble" What? that Thing of Silk "Sporus, that mere white Curd of Afs's Milk? "Satire or Senfe alas! can Sporus feel? "Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded Wings, This painted Child of Dirt, that ftinks and stings, Whole Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys, Yet Wit ne'er tastes, nor Beauty ne'er enjoys : So well-bred Spaniels civilly delight

In mumbling of the Game they dare not bite.
Eternal Smiles his Emptinefs betray,

As fhallow Streams run dimpling all the Way.
Whether in florid Impotence he fpeaks,

And, as the Prompter breathes, the Puppet fqueaks,
Or at the Ear of Eve, familiar Toad,
Half Froth, half Venom, fpits himself abroad,
In Puns, or Politicks, or Tales, or Lies,

Or Spite, or Smut, or Rhymes, or Blafphemies..
His Wit all See-faw between that and this,
Now high, now low, now Mafter up, now Mifs,
And he himself one vile Antithefis.
Amphibious Thing! That acting either Part,
The trifling Head, or the corrupted Heart,
Fop at the Toilet, Flatt'rer at the Board,
Now trips a Lady, and now ftruts a Lord.
Eve's Temper thus the Rabbins have expreft,
A Cherub's Face, a Reptile all the rest,
Beauty that shocks you, Parts that none will trust,
Wit that can creep, and Pride that licks the Duft.

After

After this Heat is a little over, our Poet pretending to magnify his former Patience, feems in cool Blood to give Correction to several, and most deservedly on Mr. Budgell, Welfted, and the other Poetafter who turn'd Plagiary: What he fays of poor Dennis is light, he, though he thought him too proud, did not think him unworthy his Regard, when in Di-' ftrefs, and here he only acknowledges, that he has been fo intimate with Mr. Theobald, as to feek him at his own House.

He had drank with Cibber, very well! And so have most ingenious Men of his Time, this hurts them nothing, but the other Imputations are home. WELSTED'S LYE; (and he was a Parson) three thousand Suns went down on it. Mr. Budgell; he let him charge him with Grub-ftreet, and write what he would, except his WILL: The Affair of Mr. ToLAND'S WILL was then recent. As to the Plagiary, Mr. Pope owns he had rhym'd for him, which was to be fure a very great Favour; but Mr. Pope's Father and Mother had been abus'd, for which he very justly demands Reason; his Father being a Man so innocent and fo harmless of Tongue, that he accounted it Sin to call his Neighbour a Fool: But now comes the Rod for the Fool's Back:

That Harmless Mother thought no Wife a Whore; Hear this, and spare his Family, James Moor.

4

When we read this Epiftle over and over again, after fresh Admiration, a melancholy Thought arifes, that we are without Hope of fuch another Genius, fo expreffive, fo compact, fo affecting, and fo very full of Light and Brightnefs.

The Vanity which fome have charged the Beginning of this Epiftle with, where our Author intimates the Impoffibility almoft of hiding himfelf from im

pertinent

pertinent Vifitors, if it be really fo, will be eafily pardoned, no Man but what has (at least, we believe fo) greater Foibles.

What Walls can guard me, or what Shades can hide?
They pierce my Thickets, thro' my Grot they glide,
By Land and Water they renew the Charge,
They ftop the Chariot and they board the Barge.

Sweetly intimating, fay the Enemies of our Author, that he did not want the Conveniency of a Barge or a Chariot, that he had Gardens with fine Thickets, and an elegant Grotto..

+

We dare be perfwaded that Mr. Pope had no Vanity in the Mention of either Barge or Chariot, for his Gardens we cannot so well answer; he had spent a great deal of Money and Time in them, and laboured to have every Thing there as great (that is as to Tafte, not to Compafs of Ground) as poffibly might be, he afk'd Counsel with all he knew, who were likely to give him any good Advice; but at laft he was forc'd chiefly to depend on his own good Senfe and natural Tafte, for in laying out of Gardens as in all other Things, different People have different Designs and Opinions, and one admires what is entirely difagreeable to another; one declares, he would not have too much Art in it, for my Notion (fays he) of Gardening is, that it is only sweeping Nature; another declares, that Gravel Walks are not of a good Tafte, for all the finest abroad are of loofe Sand; a third advises peremptorily, there should not be one Lime Tree in the whole Plantation; a fourth makes the fame exclufive Claufe extend to Horfe Chefnuts, which he affirms not to be Trees, but Weeds; Dutch Elms are condemn'd by a fifth, and about half the Trees are profcrib'd.

Some

Some cannot bear Ever-greens, and call them Never-greens; fome who are only angry at them when they are cut in Shapes, and give the modern Gardiners the Name of Ever-green Taylors; fome have no Dislike to Cones and Cubes, but would have them cut in Foreft-Trees; fome are in a Paffion against any Thing in Shape, even against clipp'd Hedges, which they call green Walls. We have the fame Sort of Criticks in Poetry; one is fond of nothing but Heroicks; another can't relifh Tragedy; another hates Paftorals, but delights mightily (as all little Wits do) in Epigrams. Let me add there are the fame in Divinity, where many leading Criticks are for rooting up more than they plant, and would leave the Lord's Vineyard either very thinly furnish'd, or very oddly trimm'd: But Mr. Pope had the Hap pinefs to like all that was good, and excluded no beautiful Tree or Flower his Garden.

It is natural for a Man, when he has taken a great Deal of Pains about any Thing, to be fond of it, efpecially if it answers to the Idea of Beauty which he firft intended it fhould: This was Mr. Pope's Cafe in his Gardens and Grotto, of which laft fee his own Description to Mr. Blount, dated June 2, 1725.

You

OU fhew yourself a juft Man and a Friend, in those Gueffes and Suppofitions you make at the poffible Reafons of my Silence; every one of which is a true one. As to Forgetfulness of you and yours, I affure you the promifcuous Converfations of the Town ferve only to put me in Mind of better, and more quiet, to be had in a Corner of the World (undifturb'd, innocent, ferene, and fenfible) with fuch as you. Let no Access of any Di ftruft make you think of me differently in a cloudy Day from what you do in the moft fun-fhiny Wea

thet.