Buckingham, Our Lovers talking to themselves, for waar

Of others, make the Pit their Confident:
Nor is the matter mended yet, if thus
They trust a Friend, only to tell it us.
Th' occafion should as naturally fall,
As when *) Bellario contelles all.

Is held up,

Figures of speech, which Poets think so fing
(Art's needless varnish, to make Nature Chine)
Are all but paint upon a beauteous face,
And in Descriptions only claim a place:

But to make Rage declaim, and Grief discourse, 1. From Lovers in despair fine things to force,

Must needs succeed, for who can chufe but pity
A dying Hero miserably witty?
But oh! the Dialogues, where jest and mock

like a rest at Shittle-cock!
Or elle, like bells, eternally they chime;
They sigh in Simile, and die in Rhime.
What things are there who would be Poets

thought,
By Nature not inspir'd, nor Learning taught?
Some wit they have, and therefore may deserve
A better course than this by which they starve
But to write Plays! why, 'tis a bold pretence
To judgment, breeding, wit, and eloquence:
Nay more, for they must look within to find
Those secret turns of Nature in the mind.
Without this part, in vain would be the whole,
And but a body all without a soul.
All this united yet but makes a part
Of Dialogue, that great and pow'rful Art,
Now almost lost, which the old Grecians knew,
From whom the Romans fainter copies drew,
Scarce comprehended since but by a few.
Plato and Lucian are the best remains
Of all the wonders which this Art contains:
Yet'to ourselves we justice must allow,
Shakspeare and Fletcher are the wonders now,

a

}

Con

*) In Philaster, a play of Beaumont and Fletcher,

Consider them, and read them o'er and o'er, Budingham
Go, see them play'd, then read them as before,
For tho' in many things they grossly fail,
Over our passions still they fo prevail,
That our own grief by theirs is rock'd asleep,
The dull are forc'd to feel, the wise to weep.
Their beauties imitate, avoid their faults.
First on a plot employ thy careful thoughts ;
Turn it with time a thousand several ways;
This oft alone has giv’n success to Plays.
Reject that vulgar error, wich appears
So fair, of making perfect characters :
There's no such thing in Nature, and you'll

draw
A faultless Monster, which the world ne'er law.
Some faults must be, that his misfortunes drew;
But such as may deserve compailion too.
Besides the main design compos'd with art,
Each moving Scene must be a Plot apart.
Contrive each little turn, mark ev'ry place,
As Painters first chalk out the future face:
Yet be not fondly your own slave for this ;
But change hereafter what appears amiss.
Think not so much where shining thoughts to pla.

ce,

As what a Man would say in such a case,
Neither in Comedy will this fuffice,
The Player too must be before your eyes ;
And tho' 'tis drudgery to stoop so low,
To him

you your secret meaning show,

muft

Expose no fingle Fop, but lay the load
More equally, and spread the folly broad.
Mere Coxcombs are too obvious; oft we see
A Fool derided by as bad as he,
Hawks fly at nobler game, in this low way;
A very Owl may prove a Bird of prey.
Small Poets thus will one poor Fop devour;
But to collect, like Bees, from ev'ry flow'r
Ingredients to compose that precious juice,
Which ferves the world for pleasure and for use,

Buđingham, In spite of faction, this would favour get;

But Falstaff *) stands inimitable yet.

Another fault which often may be fall,
Is, when the wit of some great Poet shall
So overflow, that is, be none at all,
That even his Fools speak sense, as if poflest,
And each by inspiration breaks his jeit.
If once the justness of each part be lost,
Well we may laugh, but at the Poet's coft.
That silly thing men call sheer-wit, avoid,
With which our Age so naufeously is cloy'd,
Humour is all. Wit should be only brought
To turn agreably some proper thought.
But since the Poets we of late have known,
Shine in no dress to much as in their own,
The better by example to convince,
Cast but a view on this wrong side of sense.

First a Soliloquy is calmly made,
Where ev'ry reason is exactly weigh’d;
Which once perform'd, most opportunely comes
Some Hero frighted at the noise of drums,
For her sweet sake, whom at first sight he loves,
And all in Metaphor his passion proves;
But some fad accident, tho' yet unknown,
Parting this pair, to leave the Swain alone;
He streight grows jealous, tho' we know not why,
Then, to oblige his Rival, needs will die:
But first he makes a speech, wherein he tells
The absent Nymph, how much his flame excells.
And yet bequeaths her generously now

To that lov'd Rival whom he does not know;
Who ftreight appears, but who can Fate with-

stand?
Too late, alas! to hold his hasty hand,
That just has giv'n himself the cruel stroke,
At which his very Rival's heart is broke;

He

*) An adınirable Character in foine Plays of Shakspeare.

He more to his new Friend than Mistress kind,

Þuđingham
Most fadly mourns at being left behind;
Of such a death prefers the pleasing charms
To love, and living in a Lady's arms.

What Chameful, and what monstrous things are

these?
And then they rail at those they cannot please;
Conclude us only partial to the dead :
And grudge the sign of old Ben-Johnson's head:
When the intrinsic value of the stage
Can scarce be judg'd, but by a following Age;
For Dances, Flutes, Italian songs, and Rhime, .
May keep up finking nonsense for a time.
But that must fail, which now so much o'er-rules,
And lense no longer will submit to Fools.

No com m o n.

Roscommon

Wentwortly Dillon, Graf von Fiorcommon, geb. itt
Irland ums J. 1633, geft. 1684. Man hat von ihm nur
wenige Gedichte, die aber noch immer sehr geschätzt werden,
und von ihnen feines so sehr als sein Ejny on Translated
Verse. Dr. Johnson giebt ilm (Lives, Vol. I, p. 325.) das
rülmlide Zeugniß, daß er vielleicht der einzige korrekte ens
glische Schriftsteller vor Addison ser; und Pope erklärt ihn
für den einzigen moralisch unftrafliden Dichter unter Karls
1. Regierung:

in all Charles's days
Roscominon only boasts unspotted lays.
Viel Neues und Eigenthümliches enthält freilich ber Unter's
richt nicht, der in diesem Versuche dem Ueberseker eines poes
tischen Werks ertheilt wird. Er chränkt fich vornehmlich
auf die Pflichten ein, daß jener ein seinem Genie gemafes,
der Uebersekung würdiges, Original wählen, daß er dasselbe
villig verstehen, alles Dunkle und Sprachwidrige vermeiden,
und alle die verschiednen Schat:irungen der Schreibart beis
behalten müsse. Aber das größte Verdienft dieses Gedients
ist die Art seiner Ausführung, dic gewiß, des an sich trockz
nen Gegenstandes wegen nicht wenig Schwierigkeiten hatter
und der edle, männliche, eindrudsolle Lehrton, der diesen
Versuch zu dem Nange eines würdigen Gegenftůcks von Pos
pe's Versuch über die Sritik erbebt.

ESSAY ON TRANSLATING

VERSE

The first great Work, (a Task perform'd by

few)

Is, that yourself may to yourself be true :
No Mafk, no Tricks, no Favour, no Reserve;
Dissect your Mind, examine ev'ry Nerve.
Whoever vainly on his Strength depends,
Begins like Virgil
, but like Maevius, ends

That