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Whether we joy or grieve, the same the curse,
Surpris'd at better, or surpris'd at worse.
Thus good or bad, to one extreme betray

Th' unbalanc'd Mind, and snatch the Man away;
For Virtue's self may too much zeal be had;
The worst of Madmen is a Saint run mad1.
Go then, and if you can, admire the state
Of beaming_diamonds, and reflected plate;
Procure a TASTE to double the surprise,
And gaze on Parian Charms with learned eyes:
Be struck with bright Brocade, or Tyrian Dye,
Our Birth-day Nobles' splendid Livery.
If not so pleas'd, at Council-board rejoice,
To see their Judgments hang upon thy Voice;
From morn to night, at Senate, Rolls, and Hall,
Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at all.
But wherefore all this labour, all this strife?
For Fame, for Riches, for a noble Wife?
Shall One whom Nature, Learning, Birth, conspir'd
To form, not to admire but be admir'd,
Sigh, while his Chloe blind to Wit and Worth
Weds the rich Dulness of some Son of earth?
Yet Time ennobles, or degrades each Line;
It brighten'd Craggs's, and may darken thine:
And what is Fame? the Meanest have their Day,
The Greatest can but blaze, and pass away.
Grac'd as thou art, with all the Pow'r of Words,
So known, so honour'd, at the House of Lords3:
Conspicuous Scene! another yet is nigh,
(More silent far) where Kings and Poets lie;
Where MURRAY (long enough his Country's pride)
Shall be no more than TULLY, or than HYDE*!
Rack'd with Sciatics, martyr'd with the Stone,

Will any mortal let himself alone?

See Ward by batter'd Beaux invited_over,

And desp'rate Misery lays hold on Dover5.
The case is easier in the Mind's disease;

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There all Men may be cur'd, whene'er they please.
Would ye be blest? despise low Joys, low Gains;
Disdain whatever CORNBURY disdains;

Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.

1 [Horace merely preaches the Mŋdèv άyav in his lines:

Insani sapiens nomen ferat, aequus iniqui, Ultra quam satis est virtutem si petat ipsam.] 2 Craggs's,] (See note to Epitaph Iv.) His father had been in a low situation; but, by industry and ability, got to be Postmaster-General and agent to the Duke of Marlborough. Warton.

3 [A piece of bathos, says Mr Hayward, thus parodied by Cibber:

Persuasion tips his tongue whene'er he talks, And he has chambers in the King's Bench walks.']

[The great Lord Clarendon.]

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5 [Ward and Dover: celebrated for their quack medicines. Roscoe.]

6 [Lord Cornbury, afterwards Lord Hyde, great-grandson of the first Lord Clarendon, a young Tory nobleman of literary tastes, to whom Bolingbroke addressed his Letters on History. Of Lord C., says Mr Macknight, 'even Horace Walpole spoke with enthusiasm.' He died in 1753. Carruthers points out that he refused a pension obtained for him by his brother-in-law, Lord Essex.]

But art thou one, whom new opinions sway,

One who believes as Tindal1 leads the way,

Who Virtue and a Church alike disowns,

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Thinks that but words, and this but brick and stones?
Fly then, on all the wings of wild desire,
Admire whate'er the maddest can admire.

Is Wealth thy passion? Hence! from Pole to Pole,

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Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll,
For Indian spices, for Peruvian Gold,
Prevent the greedy, and out-bid the bold:
Advance thy golden Mountain to the skies;
On the broad base of fifty thousand rise,

Add one round hundred, and (if that's not fair)
Add fifty more, and bring it to a square.
For, mark th' advantage; just so many score
Will gain a Wife with half as many more,
Procure her Beauty, make that beauty chaste,
And then such Friends-as cannot fail to last.
A Man of wealth is dubb'd a Man of worth,
Venus shall give him Form, and Anstis3 Birth.
(Believe me, many a German Prince is worse,
Who proud of Pedigree, is poor of Purse.)
His Wealth brave Timon gloriously confounds;
Ask'd for a groat, he gives a hundred pounds;
Or if three Ladies like a luckless Play 4,
Takes the whole House upon the Poet's Day.
Now, in such exigencies not to need,

Upon my word, you must be rich indeed;

A noble superfluity it craves,

Not for yourself, but for your Fools and Knaves;

Something, which for your Honour they may cheat,
And which it much becomes you to forget.

If Wealth alone then make and keep us blest,
Still, still be getting, never, never rest.

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But if to Pow'r and Place your passion lie,
If in the Pomp of Life consist the joy;
Then hire a Slave, or (if you will) a Lord
To do the Honours, and to give the Word;
Tell at your Levee, as the Crowds approach,
To whom to nod, whom take into your Coach,
Whom honour with your hand: to make remarks,
Who rules in Cornwall, or who rules in Berks:

[Dr Matthew Tindal, author of Christianity as old as the Creation.]

2 dubb'd a Man of worth,] Alluding to the City Knighthoods, where wealth and worship go together. Warburton.

3 Anstis, whom Pope often mentions, was Garter King of Arms. Bowles.

4 Or if three Ladies like a luckless Play,] The common reader, I am sensible, will be always more solicitous about the names of these three Ladies, the unlucky Play, and every other trifling circumstance that attended this piece of

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gallantry, than for the explanation of our Author's sense, or the illustration of his poetry; even where he is most moral and sublime. But had it been in Mr Pope's purpose to indulge so impertinent a curiosity, he had sought elsewhere for a commentator on his writings. Warburton. Notwithstanding this remark of Dr Warburton, I have taken some pains, though indeed in vain, to ascertain who these ladies were, and what the play they patronized. It was once said to be Young's Busiris. Warton.

"This may be troublesome, is near the Chair;

"That makes three members, this can choose a May'r."
Instructed thus, you bow, embrace, protest,

Adopt him Son, or Cousin at the least,

Then turn about, and laugh at your own Jest.
Or if your life be one continu'd Treat,
If to live well means nothing but to eat;
Up, up! cries Gluttony, 'tis break of day,
Go drive the Deer, and drag the finny prey;
With hounds and horns go hunt an Appetite-
So Russel did, but could not eat at night,
Call'd happy Dog! the Beggar at his door,
And envy'd Thirst and Hunger to the Poor.
Or shall we ev'ry Decency confound,

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Thro' Taverns, Stews, and Bagnio's take our round,
Go dine with Chartres, in each Vice out-do
K-l's lewd Cargo, or Ty-y's Crew1,
From Latian Syrens, French Circean Feasts,
Return well travell'd, and transform'd to Beasts,
Or for a Titled Punk, or foreign Flame,
Renounce our Country, and degrade our Name?
If, after all, we must with Wilmot
The Cordial Drop of Life is Love alone,

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own,

And SWIFT cry wisely, "Vive la Bagatelle3!"

The Man that loves and laughs, must sure do well.

Adieu-if this advice appear the worst,

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E'en take the Counsel which I gave you first:

Or better Precepts if you can impart,

Why do, I'll follow them with all my heart.

THE FIRST EPISTLE

OF THE

SECOND BOOK OF HORACE.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Reflections of Horace, and the Judgments past in his Epistle to Augustus, seem'd so seasonable to the present Times, that I could not help applying them to the use of my own Country. The Author thought them considerable enough to address them to his Prince; whom he paints with all the great and good

Lords Kinnoul and Tyrawley, two ambassadors noted for wild immorality. Carruthers.

2 [Earl of Rochester. See note on p. 181.] 3 [Warburton, with sundry unnecessary remarks, quotes the following dicta of Swift's latter days: I choose' (says he, in a Letter to Mr Pope) 'my Companions amongst those of the least consequence, and most compliance: I read

the most trifling Books I can find: and whenever I write, it is upon the most trifling subjects.' And again, I love La Bagatelle better than ever. I am always writing bad prose or worse verses, either of rage or raillery,' etc. And again, in a letter to Mr Gay: 'My rule is, Vive la Bagatelle.']

qualities of a Monarch, upon whom the Romans depended for the Increase of an Absolute Empire. But to make the Poem entirely English, I was willing to add one or two of those which contribute to the Happiness of a Free People, and are more consistent with the Welfare of our Neighbours.

This Epistle will show the learned World to have fallen into Two mistakes: one, that Augustus was a Patron of Poets in general; whereas he not only prohibited all but the Best Writers to name him, but recommended that Care even to the Civil Magistrate: Admonebat Praetores, ne paterentur Nomen suum obsolefieri, etc. The other, that this Piece was only a general Discourse of Poetry; whereas it was an Apology for the Poets, in order to render Augustus more their Patron. Horace here pleads the Cause of his Cotemporaries, first against the Taste of the Town, whose humour it was to magnify the Authors of the preceding Age; secondly against the Court and Nobility, who encouraged only the Writers for the Theatre; and lastly against the Emperor himself, who had conceived them of little Use to the Government. He shows (by a View of the Progress of Learning, and the Change of Taste among the Romans) that the Introduction of the Polite Arts of Greece had given the Writers of his Time great advantages over their Predecessors; that their Morals were much improved, and the Licence of those ancient Poets restrained: that Satire and Comedy were become more just and useful; that whatever extravagancies were left on the Stage, were owing to the Ill Taste of the Nobility; that Poets, under due Regulations, were in many respects useful to the State, and concludes, that it was upon them the Emperor himself must depend, for his Fame with Posterity.

We may farther learn from this Epistle, that Horace made his Court to this great Prince by writing with a decent Freedom toward him, with a just Contempt of his low Flatterers, and with a manly Regard to his own Character. P.

[The bland statements of the above Advertisement will not deceive the reader as to the ironical character of Pope's Epistle, which ranks among the most finished of his compositions. According to Suetonius (Vita Hor.) the origin of the Horatian Epistle (probably written only a year or two before the poet's death) was the expression by Augustus of a desire that Horace might address one of his Epistles to the Emperor himself. No such wish, we may feel sure, ever suggested itself in the bosom of King George II. Augustus was a real patron of literature, and in particular of dramatic poetry. Horace accordingly takes occasion to examine the development of Roman literature with special reference to this branch of it; and after dwelling on the prejudicial influence of the prevalent preference for the older poets, to show the evil effects of the love of spectacle upon the progress of the Roman drama. He concludes by directing the attention of the Emperor to the non-dramatic, and particularly the epic poets, and while recognising the grandeur of their task-the glorification of the deeds of heroes like Augustus himself— modestly declares his own incapacity to enter their ranks.

Pope addresses himself to a monarch who, since his accession to the throne in 1727, had done nothing, and intended to do nothing, to foster a literature for which, notwithstanding his intelligence, he lacked sympathy. The opposition, to which Pope was attached by personal friendships rather than by any distinct political creed, had pretended to found high hopes in this respect, as in all others, upon George Prince of Wales, when he was on bad terms with his father and the Walpole ministry. But he had speedily undeceived them as to the real object of their hopes; and 'Bob, the poet's foe' (as Swift nicknamed Sir Robert Walpole), remained in power. The slight attempts on the part of Queen Caroline to patronise literature and literary men were lost in the general apathy, amounting almost to dislike, with which both were regarded by King and Minister.

While therefore all the allusions to the King himself must be understood as distinctly ironical, the review of English literature which they introduce is only addressed to the King because he would take no interest in it. This review itself contains many criticisms of much sagacity and acuteness; it will be found that upon the whole Pope in his manhood adhered very much to the opinions which as a youth he had expressed in his Essay on Criticism, which should be carefully compared with the present Epistle. It is strange to find Pope charging his age with an undue preference for the old poets; the truth being that the period of a renaissance in this respect had hardly yet begun in English popular taste. The observations on the stage are fully borne out by contemporary accounts; Pope was to live to hail the appearance of Garrick as the advent of better days.]

WH

EPISTLE I.

TO AUGUSTUS.

HILE you, great Patron of Mankind! sustain
The balanc'd World, and open all the Main 1;
Your Country, chief, in Arms abroad defend2,
At home, with Morals, Arts, and Laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a Monarch, steal
An hour, and not defraud the Public Weal?
Edward and Henry, now the Boast of Fame3,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred Name,
After a Life of gen'rous Toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or Property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty Cities storm'd,
Or Laws establish'd, and the world reform'd ;
Clos'd their long Glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling Gratitude of base mankind!
All human Virtue, to its latest breath,
Finds Envy never conquer'd but by Death.
The great Alcides, ev'ry Labour past,
Had still this Monster to subdue at last.
Sure fate of all, beneath whose rising ray
Each star of meaner merit fades away!
Oppress'd we feel the beam directly beat,
Those Suns of Glory please not till they set.

To thee, the World its present homage pays,
The Harvest early, but mature the praise :
Great Friend of LIBERTY! in Kings a Name

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3 [These historical parallels or antitheta, substituted by Pope for Horace's safer names of Romulus, Bacchus and the Dioscuri, must be taken quantum valeant. The close of Edward III.'s reign offers a melancholy proof that a great man may outlive his own greatness; and Henry V. enjoyed a high popularity with his subjects to the day of his death, except of course with the Lollards. ]

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