That Wretch (in fpite of his forgotten Rhymes)
Condemn'd to live thro' all fucceeding Times,
With pompous Nonfenfe and a bellowing Sound
Sung lofty Ilium tumbling to the Ground.
And (if the Mufe can through paft Ages fee)
That noify, naufeous, gaping fool was he;
Exploded when with univerfal fcorn
The Mountains laboured and a Moufe was born.
Learn, learn, Crotona's brawny Wrestler
cries,
Audacious Mortals, and be timely wife!
'Tis I that call, remember Milo's End,
Wedg'd in that Timber, which he ftrove to rend
Each Poet with a different Talent writes,
One praifes, one inftructs, another bites.
Horace did ne'er afpire to Epic Bays,
Nor lofty Maro itoop to Lyric Lays.
Examine how your Humour is inclin❜d,
And which the ruling Paffion of your Mind;
Then, feeck a Poet who your way does bend,
And choose an Author as you choose a Friend.
United by this fympathetic Bond,
You grow familiar, intimate, and fond;
Your Thoughts, your Words, your Stiles, your
Souls agree,
No longer his Interpreter, but He.
With how much Eafe is a young Mufe be-
tray'd,
How nice the Reputation of the Maid?
Your early, kind, paternal Care appears,
By chaft Inftruction of her tender Years.
The first Impreffion in her infant Breast
Will be the deepeft, and fhould be the best.
Let not Austerity breed fervile Fear;
No wanton Sound offend her Virgin-ear.
Secure from foolish Pride's affected State,
And specious Flatt'ry's more pernicious Bait,
Roscommon. Habitual Innocence adorns her thoughts;
But your Neglect must answer for her Faults.
Immodest Words admit of no Defence;
For want of Decency is want of Senfe.
What mod'rate Fop wou'd rake the Park or Stews, Who among Troops of faultlefs Nymphs may choofe?
Variety of fuch is to be found;
Take then a subject, proper to expound;
But moral, great, and worth a Poet's Voice,
For Men of fense despise a trivial Choice:
And fuch Applaufe it must expect to meet,
As would fome Painter bufy in a Street,
To copy Bulls and Bears, and ev'ry Sign
That calls the staring Sots to nafty Wine.
Yet 'tis not all to have a Subject good,
It muft delight us, when 'tis understood..
He that brings fulfom Objects to my View,
(As many Old have done, and many New)
With nauseous Images my fancy fills,
And all goes down like Oximel of Squills.
Inftruct the lift'ning World how Maro fings
Of ufeful Subjects, and of lofty Things.
Those will fuch true, fuch bright Ideas raife,
As merit Gratitude as well as Praile:
But foul Descriptions are offenfive ftill,
Either for being like, or being ill.
For who, without a Qualm, hath ever look'd
On holy Garbage, tho' by Homer cook'd?
Whofe railing Heroes, and whofe wounded Gods,
Make fome fufpect, He fnores, as well as nods.
But I offend Virgil begins to frown,
And Horace looks with Indignation down:
My blufhing Mufe with confcious Fear retires,
And whom they like, -implicitly admires.
On fure foundations let your Fabrick rise,
And with attractive Majefty furprise.
Not by affected, meretricious Arts,
But ftrict harmonious Symmetry of Parts,
Which through the Whole infenfibly must pass,
With vital Heat to animate the Mafs.
A pure, an active, an aufpicious Flame,
And bright as Heav'n, from whence the Bleffing
But few, oh few Souls, preordain'd by Fate,
The Race of Gods, have reach'd that envy'd
Height.
No Rebel-Titan's facrilegious Crime,
By heaping Hills on Hills can thither climb.
The grizly Ferry-man of Hell deny'd
Aeneas Entrance, 'till he knew his Guide;
How juftly then will impious Mortals fall,
Whofe Pride wou'd foar to Heav'n without
Call?
Pride (of all others the most dang'rou Fault,)
Proceeds from want of Sense, or want of Thought.
The Men, who labour and digeft things most,
Will be much apter to defpond, than boaft.
For if your Author be profoundly good,
'Twill coft you dear, before he's understood.
How many Ages fince has Virgil writ?
How few are they who understand him yet?
Approach his Altars with religious Fear,
No vulgar Deity inhabits there:
Heav'n Ihakes not more at Jove's imperial Nod,
Than Poets fhou'd before their Mantuan God.
Hail mighty Maro! may that facred Name
Kindle my Breaft with thy celeftial Flame!
Sublime Ideas, and apt Words infuse,
The Muse instruct my Voice, and thou inspire the
Mufe!
What I have inftanc'd only in the best,
Is, in proportion, true of all the reft.
Take pains, the genuine Meaning to explore;
There fweat, there ftrain, tug the laborious Oar:
Romfcomon Search ev'ry Comment that your Care can find,
Some here, fome there, may hit the Poet's
Mind;
Yet be not blindly guided by the Throng;
The Multitude is always in the Wrong.
When Things appear unnatural or hard,
Confult your Author, with himself compar'd.
Who knows what Bleffing Phoebus may bestow,
And future Ages to your Labour owe?
Such Secrets are not easily found out,
But once difcover'd, leave no room for doubt.
Truth ftamps Conviction in your ravifh'd Breaft,
And Peace and Joy attend the glorious Gueft.
Von dem oben (B. I. S. 449.) vorgekommenen Schäfers dichter Ambrose Philips ist der, vornehmlich in der Lehrgats tung berühmte, englische Dichter John Philips zu unters scheiden, der von 1676 bis 1708 lebte. Auch von ihm hat man nur wenige Gedichte, unter welchen die komische Paro die der Miltonschen Schreibart, The Splendid Shilling, und das Lehrgedicht, The Cyder, oder von der Scrcitung des Aepfelmostes, die berühmtesten sind. Dieß lestre ist Nachahs mung des Virgilischen Gedichts vom Landbau, und hat, außer dem poetischen Verdienste, auch noch den Vorzug vål. liger Wahrheit und Richtigkeit der darin ertheilten Anweiz fungen. Der auch unter uns berühmte Botanist und Garz tenkenner Miller åußerte darüber gegen Dr. Johnson vas Urtheil, es gebe manche Bücher in Prose über die nämliche Materie, die. nicht so viel Wahres enthielten, als dieses Gedicht, welches sich auch durch die geschickte Anlegung des Plans, und durch eine wirklich Virgilische Verflechtung des Angenehmen und Gefühlvollen mit dem Nüglichen und Unterrichtenden entpfiehlt. Von minder vortheilhafter WirFung ist, der, den Engländern sonst in Lehrgedichten nie gewöhnliche, Gebrauch reimloser Verse, den auch Dr. Johns fon tadelt, weil diese Versart zu sehr an den feierlichen Gang des Heldengedichts erinnert, und leicht den pøetischen Ausdruck über die hier weit engern Gränzen hinaus führt.-S. auch Dusch's Briefe, 1, 9.
A thoufand accidents the farmer's hopes
Subvert, or check; uncertain all his toil,
'Till lufty autumn's luke warm days allay'd
With gentle colds, infenfibly confirm
His ripening labours: autumn to the fruits
Earth's various lap produces, vigour gives
Equal, intenerating milky grain,
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