While in your thoughts you find the least debate,
You may confound, but never can translate.
Your ftyle will this through all disguises shew;
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 unjust by being over nice,
(For fuperftitious virtue turns to vice.)
Let Craffius's ghoft and Labienus tell
How twice in Parthian plains their legions fell.
Since Rome hath been fo jealous of her fame,
That few know Pacorus' or Monæfes' 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, intelliglibly told,
Shews a tranflator both discreet and bold.
Excurfions are inexpiably bad;

And 'tis much safer to leave out than add.
Abftrufe and mystic thought you must express
With painful care, but feeming eafinefs;
For truth fhines brightest through the plaineft
drefs.

Th' Ænean Mufe, when the appears in ftate,'
Makes all Jove's thunder on her verfes wait.
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 noise is the moft wretched thing,
That to contempt can empty fcribblers bring.
Vowels and accents, regularly plac'd,
On even fyllables (and still the laft)
Though grofs innumerable faults abound,
In spite of nonfenfe, never fail of found.
But this is meant of even verfe alone,

As being most harmonious and most known:
For if you will unequal numbers try,
There accents on odd fyllables must 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,

Aud turn your veering heart with every gale,
You lofe the fruit of all your former care,
For the fad profpect of a just despair.

A quack (too fcandalously 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-feafen'd bowls the goffip's fpirits raife,
Who, while the guzzles, chats the doctor's praife;
And largely, what she wants in words, fupplies,
With maudlin eloquence of trickling eyes.
But what a thoughtless animal is man!
(How very active in his own trapan!)
For, greedy of phyficians frequent fees,
From female mellow praise he takes degrees;
Struts in a new unlicens'd gown, and then
From faving women falls to killing men.

* Hor. 3 Od, vì,

Another fuch had left the nation thin,
In spite 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 danıp,
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 meagre famine star'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 poifon'd too:
In this fad cafe, what could our vermin do?
Worry'd with debts and past all hope of bail,
Th' unpity'd wretch lies rotting in a jail :
And there with basket-alms, fcarce kept alive,
Shews how miftaken talents ought to thrive.

I pity, from my foul, uuhappy men,
Compell'd by want to prostitute their pen;
Who muft, like lawyers, either starve 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 excuse,
'Tis very dangerous, tampering with the Mufe,
The profit's fmall, and you have much to lofe;
For though true wit adorns your birth or place,
Degenerate lines degrade th' attainted race.
No poet any paffion can excite,
[write,
But what they feel tranfport them when they
Have you been led through the Cumaan cave,
And heard th' impatient maid divinely rave ?
I hear her now; I fee her rolling eyes:
And panting, Lo! the God, the God, the cries;
With words not her's, and more than human found
She makes th' obedient ghofts peep trembling
through the ground.

But, though we must obey when heaven commands.

And man in vain the facred call withstands,
Beware what fpirit rages in your breast;
For ten infpir'd, ten thousand are possest.
Thus make the proper use of each extreme,
And write with fury, but correct with phlegm,
As when the cheerful hours too freely pass,
And sparkling wine fmiles in the tempting glass;
Your pulle advises, and begins to beat
Through every fwelling vein a loud retreat :
So when a Mufe propitiously 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 measures to the fterling ftamp,
Appear not meaner than mere human lines,
Compar'd with those whofe inspiration fhines:
These 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 an establish'd fame,
Which fcorns to take it

Abfurd expreffions, crude, abortive thoughts,
All the lewd legion of exploded faults,
Bafe fugitives to that asylum fly,
And facred laws with infolence defy.
Not thus our heroes of the former days,
Deferv'd and gain'd their never-fading bays;
For I mistake, or far the greatest part

Of what fome call neglect, was ftudy'd art.
When Virgil feems to trifle in a line,
'Tis like a warning-piece, which gives the fign
To wake your fancy, and prepare your fight,
To reach the noble height of fome unufual flight.
I lofe my patience, when with faucy pride,
By untun'd ears I hear his numbers try'd.
Reverse of nature! fhall fuch copies then
Arraign th' originals of Maro's pen!
And the rude notions of pedantic schools
Elafpheme the facred founder of our rules!
The delicacy of the nicest ear
Finds nothing harfh or out of order there.
Sublime or low, unbended or intenfe,
The found is still a comment to the sense.

A fkilful ear in numbers fhould prefide,
And all difputes without appeal decide.
This ancient Rome and elder Athens found,
Before mistaken stops debauch'd the found.

When, by impulfe from heaven, Tyrtæus fung,
In drooping foldiers a new courage sprung;
Reviving Sparta now the fight maintain'd,
And what two generals loft a poet gain'd.
By fecret influence of indulgent skies,
Empire and poesy together rise.
True poets are the guardians of a flate,

And, when they fail, portend approaching fate.
For that which Rome to conqueft did infpire,
Was not the Vestal, but the Mufes' fire;
Heaven joins the bleflings: No declining age
E'er felt the raptures of poetic rage.

Of many faults, rhyme is (perhaps) the cause ;
Too ftrict to rhyme, we flight more useful laws,
For that, in Greece or Rome, was never known,
Till by barbarian deluges o'erflown:
Subdued, undone, they did at laft obey,
And change their own for their invaders' way.
I grant that from fome moffy, idol oak,
In double rhymes our Thor and Woden spoke ;
And by fucceffion of unlearned times,
As Bards began, fo Monks rung on the chimes.

But now that Phœbus and the facred Nine, With all their beams on our bleft ifland fhine, Why fhould not we their ancient rites rellore, And be, what Rome or Athens were before?

"From their firm feats torn by the shaggy tops They bore like shields before them through the "air,

"Till more incens'd they hurl'd them at their foes "All was confusion, heaven's foundation shook, "Threatening no less than univerfal wreck,

For Michael's arm main promontories flung, "And overpreft whole legions weak with fin: "Yet they blafphem'd and struggled as they lay, "Till the great enfign of Mefliah blaz'd, "And (arm'd with vengeance) God's victorious "(Effulgence of paternal Deity)

[Son "Grafping ten thousand thunders in his hand, "Drove th' old original rebels headlong down, "And fent them flaming to the vast abyss.”

O may I live to hail the glorions day, And fing loud pæans through the crowded way, When in triumphant state the British Musc, True to herself, fhall barbarous aid refuse, And in the Roman majesty appear,

Which none know better, and none come so near.

TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON,

ON HIS

ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE.

By Dr. CHETWOOD, 1684.

As when by labouring stars new kingdoms rise,
The mighty mafs in rude confufion lies,
A court unform'd, disorder at the bar,
And ev'n in peace the rugged mien of war,
Till fome wife ftatefman into method draws
The parts, and animates the frame with laws;
Such was the cafe when Chaucer's early toil
Founded the Mufes' empire in our foil.
Spenfer improv'd it with his painful hand,
But lost a noble Mufe in Fairy-land,
Shakspeare faid all that Nature could impart,
And Johnfon added Industry and Art.
Cowley and Denham gain'd inimortal praife;
And fonie, who merit as they wear the bays,
Search'd all the treasuries of Greece and Rome,

And brought the precious spoils in triumph home.
But fill our language had fome ancient ruft;
Our flights were often high, but seldom juft.
There wanted one, who licenfe could reftrain,
Make civil laws o'er barbarous ufage reign:

One worthy in Apollo's chair to fit,

To hold the fcales, and give the flamp of wit; In whom ripe judgment and young fancy meet, And force poetic rage to be difcreet;

Who grows not naufeous while he strives to please, But marks the fhelves in the poetic feas.

Who knows, and teaches what our clime can bear, And makes the barren ground obey the labourer's

care.

[do.

Few could conceive, none the great work could
'Tis a fresh province, and referv'd for you.
Those talents all are your's, of which but one
Were a fair fortune for a Mufe's fon.
Wit, reading, judgment, conversation, art,
A bead well-balanc'd, and a generous heart.
While infect rhymes cloud the polluted sky,
Created to moleft the world, and die.
Your file does polish, and your fancy caft;
Works are long forming which must always laft.
Rough iron sense, and stubborn to the mold,
Touch'd by your chemic hand, is turn'd to gold,
A fecret grace fashions the flowing lines,
And infpiration through the labour fhines,
Writers, in fpite of all their paint and art,
Betray the darling paffion of the heart.
No fame you wound, give no chafte cars offence,
Still true to friendship, modefty, and fenfe.
So Saints, from Heaven for our example fent,
Live to their rules, have nothing to repent,
Horace, if living, by exchange of fate,
Would give no laws, but only your's translate.
Hoift fail, bold writers, fearch, discover far,
You have a compafs for a Polar-ftar.
Tune Orpheus' harp, and with enchanting rhymes
Soften the favage humour of the times.

Tell all thofe untouch'd wonders which appear'd
When Fate itfelf for our great Monarch fear'd:
Securely through the dangerous forest led
By guards of Angels, when his own were fled.
Heaven kindly exercis'd his youth with cares,
To crown with unmix'd joys his riper years.
Make warlike James's peaceful virtues known,
The fecond hope and genius of the throne.
Heaven in compaffion brought him on our stage,
To tame the fury of a monstrous age.
But what bleft voice fhall your Maria fing?
Or a fit offering to her altars bring?
In joys, in grief, in triumphs, in retreat,
Great always, without aiming to be great.
True Roman majefty adorns her face;
And every gefture 's form'd by every Grace.
Her beauties are too heavenly and refin'd
For the grofs fenfes of a vulgar mind.
It is your part (you Poets can divine)
To prophefy how fe by Heaven's defign
Shall give an heir to the great British line,
Who over all the Western ifles fhall reign,
Both awe the continent, and rule the main.
It is your place to wait upon her name
Through the valt regions of eternal fame.
True Poets fouls to Princes are ally'd,
And the world's Empire with the Kings divide.
Heaven trufts the prefent time to Monarch's

care.

Eternity is the good Writer's fhiaré,

TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON, Occafioned by his Lordship's

ESSAY ON TRANSLATed verse.

FROM THE

LATIN OF MR. CHARLES DRYDEN.
By Mr. NEEDLER.

THAT happy Britain boasts her tuneful race,
And laurel wreaths her peaceful temples grace,
The honour and the praise is justly due
To you alone, illuftrous Earl! to you.
For foon as Horace, with his artful page,
By thee explain'd, had taught the listening age:
Of brightest Bards arofe a fkilful train,
Who sweetly fung in their immortal strain..
No more content great Maro's steps to trace,
New paths we fearch, and trade unbeaten ways.
Ye Briton's, then, triumphantly rejoice;
And with loud peals, and one consenting voice,
Applaud the man who does unrival'd fit,
"The fovereign judge and arbiter of wit!"

For, led by thec, an endless train fhall rife
Of Poets, who fhall climb fuperior skies;
Heroes and Gods in worthy verfe fhall fing,
And tune to Homer's lay the lofty ftring.

Thy works too, fovereign Bard *! if right I fee
They shall tranflate with equal majesty;
While with new joy aud happy fhade fhall rove
Through the bleft mazes of th' Elyfian grove,
And, wondering, in Britannia's rougher tongue
To find thy herocs and thy fhepherds fung.
Shall break forth in thefe words: "Thy favour'd
name,

Great heir and guardian of the Mantuan fame!
How fhall my willing gratitude pursue
With praifes large as to thy worth are due?
Though taftelefs Bards, by Nature never taught,
In wretched rhymes difguife my genuine thought,
Though Homer now the wars of godlike Kings
In Ovid's foft enervate numbers fings:
Tuneful Silenus, and the matchlefs verfe
That does the birth of infant worlds rehearse,
Atones for all, by that my refcued fame
Shall vie in age with Nature's deathless frame;
By thee the learned fong fhall nobly live,
And praife from every British tongue receive.
Give to thy daring genius then the rein,
And freely launch into a bolder ftrain;
Nor with these words my happy spirit grieve :
“The last good office of thy friend receive f.”

On the firm bafe of thy immortal lays,
A noble pile to thy lov'd Maro raise ;
My glory by thy fkill fhall brighter fhine.
With native charms and energy divine!
Britain with just applaufe the work fhall read,
And crown with fadeless bays thy facred head.

Nor fhall thy Mufe the graver's pencil need,
To draw the hero on his prancing steed;
Thy living verfe fhall paint th' embattled hoft
In bolder figures than his art can boaft.
While the low tribe of vulgar writers ftrive,
By mean falfe arts to make their versions live;
Forfake the text, and blend each sterling line
With comments foreign to my true design;
My latent fenfe thy happier thought explores,
And injur'd Maro to himself reftores."

A PARAPHRASE

ON

PSALM CXLVIII.

O AZURE vaults! O crystal sky! 'The world's tranfparent canopy, Break your long filence, and let mortals know With what contempt you look on things below.

Wing'd fquadrons of the God of war, Who conquer whofoe'er you are, Let echoing anthems make his praises known On earth his footftool, as in heaven his throne.

Great eye of all, whofe glorious ray
Rules the bright empire of the day,

O praise his name, without whofe purer light
Thou hadft been hid in an abyfs of night.

Ye moon and planets, who difpenfe, By God's command, your influence; Refign to him, as your Creator due, That veneration which men pay to you.

Faireft, as well as firft, of things,

From whom all joy, a beauty fprings; O praife th' almighty Ruler of the globe, Who ufeth thee for his empyrean robe.

Praise him ye loud harmonious fpheres, Whofe facred ftamp all nature bears, Who did all forms from the rude chaos draw, And whofe command is th' univerfal law:

Ye watery mountains of the sky, And you so far above our eye, Vaft ever-moving orbs, exalt his name, Who gave its being to your glorious frame.

Ye dragons, whofe contagious breath Peoples the dark retreats of death, Change your fierce biffing into joyful song, And praife your Maker with your forked tongue.

Praise him, ye monsters of the deep,
That in the feas vaft bofoms fleep;

At whofe command the foaming billows roar,
Yet know their limits, tremble and adore.
Ye mifts and vapours, hail, and snow,'
And you who through the concave blow,

[throat

Whofe only care 's to love and fing,
Fly through the world, and let your trembling
Praise your Creator with the sweetest note.

Praise him each favage furious beast,
That on his ftores do daily feast:
And you tame flaves of the laborious plow,
Your weary knees to your Creator bow.

Majeftic monarchs, mortal gods,
Whofe power hath here no periods,
May all attempts against your crowns be vain!
But ftill remember by whofe power you reign.

Let the wide world his praifes fing,
Where Tagus and Euphrates fpring,
And from the Danube's frofty banks, to thofe
Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows.

You that difpofe of all our lives,

Praise him from whom your power derives; Be true and juft like him, and fear his word, As much as malefactors do your fword.

Praife him, old monuments of time;

O praise him in your youthful prime; Praife him, fair idols of your greedy sense; Exalt his name, fweet age of innocence.

Jehovah's name shall only laft,

When heaven, and earth, and all is past: Nothing, great God, is to be found in thee, But unconceivable eternity.

Exalt, O Jacob's facred race,

The God of gods, the God of grace; Who will above the ftars your empire raise, And with his glory recompenfe your praise.

A PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN TO

His Royal Highness the DUKE OF YORK,
At Edinburgh.

FOLLY and vice are easy to defcribe,
The common fubjects of our scribbling tribe;

But when true virtues, with unclouded light,
All great, all royal, shine divinely bright,
Our eyes are dazzled, and our voice is weak;
Let England, Flanders, let all Europe speak,
Let France acknowledge that her fhaken throne
Was once fupported, Sir, by you alone;
Banish'd from thence for an ufurper's fake,
Yet trufted then with her last desperate stake:
When wealthy neighbours ftrove with us for
power,

Let the fea tell, how in their fatal hour,
Swift as an eagle, our victorious prince,
Great Britain's genius, flew to her defence;

His name ftruck fear, his conduct won the day,
He came, he faw, he seiz'd the struggling prey,
And while the heavens were fire and th' ocean
blood,

Confirm'd our empire o'er the conquer'd flood.
O happy islands, if you knew your blifs!
Strong by the fea's protection, fafe by his!
Express your gratitude the only way,
And humbly own a debt too vast to pay :
Let Fame aloud to future ages tell,
None e'er commanded, none obey'd fo well;
While this high courage, this undaunted mind,
So loyal, fo fubmiffively refign'd,
Proclaim that fuch a hero never fprings
But from the uncorrupted blood of kings.

SONG.

ON A YOUNG LADY WHO SUNG FINELY, AND WAS AFRAID OF A COLD.

WINTER, thy cruelty extend,
Till fatal tempefts fwell the fea.
In vain let finking pilots pray;
Beneath thy yoke let Nature bend,
Let piercing froft, and lafting fnow,
Through woods and fields deftruction fow!

Yet we unmov'd will fit and smile, While you thefe leffer ills create, Thefe we can bear; but, gentle Fate,

And thou, bleft Genius of our isle, From Winter's rage defend her voice, At which the listening Gods rejoice.

May that celeftial found each day With extafy tranfport our fouls, Whilft all our paffions it controuls, And kindly drives our cares away; Let no ungentle cold destroy, All tafte we have of heavenly joy!

VIRGIL'S SIXTH ECLOGUE,

SILENUS.

The Argument.

Two young fhepherds, Chromis and Mnafylus, having been often promifed a fong by Silenus,

chance to catch him afleep in this Eclogue; where they bind him hand and foot, and then claim his promife. Silenus, finding they would be put off no longer, begins his fong, in which he defcribes the formation of the univerfe, and the original of animals, according to the Epicurian philofophy; and then runs through the moft furprising transformations which have This happened in Nature fince her birth. Eclogue was defigned as a compliment to Syro the Epicurean, who inftructed Virgil and VaruS in the principles of that philofophy. Silenus acts as tutor, Chromis and Mnafylus as the two pupils.

I FIRST of Romans stoop'd to rural strains,
Nor blush'd to dwell among Sicilian fwains,
When my Thalia rais'd her bolder voice,
And kings and battles were her lofty choice,
Phœbus did kindly humbler thoughts infuse,
And with this whisper check th' aspiring Muse:
A fhepherd, Tityrus, his flocks (hould feed,
And choose a subject suited to his reed.
Thus I (while each ambitious pen prepares
To write thy praises, Varus, and thy wars)
My paftoral tribute in low numbers pay,
And though I once prefum'd, I only now obey.
But yet (if any with indulgent eyes
Can look on this, and such a trifle prize)
Thee only, Varus, our glad fwains shall fing,
And every grove and every echo ring.
Phœbus delights in Varus' favourite name,
And none who under that protection came
Was ever ill receiv'd, or unfecure of fame.
Proceed my Muse.

Young Chromis and Mnafylus chanc'd to stray
Where (fleeping in a cave) Silenus lay,
Whose conftant cups fly fuming to his brain,
And always boil in each extended vein;
His trufty flaggon, full of potent juice,
Was hanging by, worn thin with age and ufe;
Drop'd from his head, a wreath lay on the ground;
In hafte they feiz'd him, and in hafte they bound;
Eager, for both had been deluded long
With fruitless hope of his inftructive fong:
But while with confcious fear they doubtful stood,
Ægle, the fairest Nais of the flood,
With a vermilion dye his temples stain'd.
Waking, he fmil'd, and must I then be chain'd?
Loose me, he cry'd; 'twas boldly done, to find
And view a God, but 'tis too bold to bind.
The promis'd verfe no longer I'll delay
(She shall be fatisfy'd another way).

With that he rais'd his tuneful voice aloud, The knotty oaks their listening branches bow'd, And favage beafts and Sylvan Gods did crowd;

For lo he fung the world's ftupendous birth, How scatter'd feeds of fea, and air, and earth, And purer fire, through univerfal night And empty space, did fruitfully unite; From whence th' innumerable race of things, By circular fucceffive order fprings.

By what degrees this earth's compacted sphere Was harden'd, woods and rocks and towns to bear;