Sivut kuvina

Kofcommon. Habitual Innocence adorns her thought's;

But your Neglect must answer for her Faults.

Immodest Words admit of no Defence;
For want of Decency is want of Sense.
What mod'rate Fop wou'd rake the Park or Stews,
Who among Troops of faultless Nymphs may choo-

Variety of such is to be found;
Take then a subject; proper to èxpound;
But inoral, great, and worth a Poet's Voice,
For Men of sense despise a trivial Choice:
And such Applause it must expect to meet,
As would lome Painter busy in a Street,
To copy Bulls and Bears, and ev'ry Sign
That calls the staring Sots to nasty Wine.

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Yet 'tis not all to have a Subject good,
It must delight us, when 'tis understood.
He that brings fulsom 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 Squillş.
Instruct the lift'ning World how Maro fings
Of useful Subjects, and of lofty Things.

Those will such true, such bright Ideas raise,
As merit Gratitude as well as Praile:
But foul Descriptions are offensive still,
Either for being like, or being ill.
For who, without a Qualm, hath ever look'd
On holy Garbage, tho' by Homer cook'd?
Whose railing Heroes, and whose wounded Gods,
Make some fufpeét, He snores, as well as nods.
But I offend - Virgil begins to frown,
And Horace looks with Indignation down:
My blushing Muse with conscious Fear retires,
And whom they like, implicitly admires.

On fure foundatione let your Fabrick rile,
And with attractive Majesty surprise.

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Not by affected, meretricious Arts,

But itrict harmonious Symmetry of Parts,
Which through the Whole infensibly must pass,
With vital Heat to animate the Mals.
A pure, an active, an auspicious Flame,
And bright as Heav'n, from whence the Blessing

But few, oh few Souls, preordain'd by Fate,
The Race of Gods, have reach'd that envy'd

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 justly then will impious Mortals fall,
Whose Pride wou'd foar to Heav'n without a

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Pride (of all others the most dang'rou Fault,)
Proceeds from want of Sense, or want of Thought.
The Men, who labour and digest things most,
Will be much apter to defpond, than boast.
For if your Author be profoundly good,
'Twill cost you dear, before he's understood.
How many Ages ince has Virgil writ?
How few are they who understand him yet?
Approach his Altars with religious Fear,
No vulgar Deity inhabits there:
Heav'n 1 hakes not more at Jove's imperial Nod,
Thun Poets shou'd before their Mantuan God.
Hail mighty Maro! may that sacred Name
Kindle my Breast with thy celestial Flame!
Sublime Ideas, and apt Words infuse, -
The Mufe instruct my Voice, and thou inspire the


What I have instanc'd only in the best,
Is, in proportion, true of all the rest.
Take pains; the genuine Meaning to explore;
There sweat, there strain, tug the laborious Oar:

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Romscomory Search ev'ry Comment that your Care can find,
Some here, some there, may hit the Poets

Yet be not blindly guided by the Throng;
The Multitude is always in the Wrong.
When Things appear unnatural or hard,
Consult your Author, with himself compar'd.
Who knows what Blessing Phoebus may bestow,
And future Ages to your Labour owe?
Such Secrets are not easily found out,
But once discover'd, leave no room for doubt.
Truth stamps Conviction in your ravish'd Breast,
And Peace and Joy attend the glorious Guest.


sohn Ph'il i p 8.

John philips.

Von dem oben (B. I. S.449.) vorgekommenen Schäfers dichter Ambrose Philips ist der, vornehinlich in der Lehrgat: tung berühmte, ënglische Dichter John Philips zu unters scheiden, der von 1676 bis 1708 lebte. Auch von ihm hat män sur wenige Gedichte, unter welchen die kornische Paros die der Miltonschen Schreibart, The Splendid Shilling, und das Lehrgedicht, The Cyder, oder von der Bereitung des des pfelmoftes, die berühmtesten find. Dieß lextre if Nachaly. mung des Virgilischen Gedichts vom Landbau, und hat, außer dem poetischen Verdienste, auch noch den Vorzüg våls liger Wahrheit und Richtigkeit der darin ertheilten Anweis fungen. Der auch untet und berühmte Botanist and Gar: tenkenner Tiller außerte darüber gegen Dr. Johnson vas Urtheil, es gebe manche Bücher in Profe über die nämliche Materie, die nicht so viel Wahres enthielten, als dieses Gedicht, welches fid; auch durch die gesthickte Anlegung des Plans, und durch eine wirklich Virgilische Verflechtung des Angenehmen und Gefühlvollen mit dem Nürlichen und Una terrichtenden empfiehlt. Von minder vortheilhafter Wiry kung ist, der, den Engländern fonft in Lehrgedichten nie gewöhnliche, Sevrauch reimloser Verse, den auch Dr. Johns fon tadelt, weil diese Versart zu sehr an den feierlichen Gang des Hadengedichts erinnert, und leicht den poetischen Ausdruck über die hier weit engern Grånzen hinaus führt. S. auch Durch's Briefe, I. 9.


A thousand accidents the farmer's hopes
Subvert, or check; uncertain all his toil,
'Till lusty autumn's luke-warm days allay'd
With gentle colds, infenfibly confirm
His ripening labours: autunın to the fruits
Earth's various lap produces, vigour gives

, intenerating milky grain,


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Berries, and sky-dy'd Plumbs, and what in coat
Rough, or soft rind, or bearded hufk, or shell;
Fat Olives, and Pilacio's fragrant nut,
And the Pine's tasteful Apple: autumn paints
Aufonian hills with Grapes, whilst English

Blush with pomaceous harvests, breathing tweets.
O let me now, when the kind early dew
Unlocks th' embosom d odors, walle among
The well-rang'd files of trees, whose full ag'd

Diffuse Ambrofial steams, than Myrrh, or Nard
More grateful, or perfuming flow'ry Bean!
Soft whilp'ring airs, and the lark's matin long
Then woo to musing, and becalm the mind
Perplex'd with irksome thoughts.

Thrice happy

Best portion of the various year, in which
Nature rejoiceth, smiling on her works
Lovely, to full perfection wrought! but ah,
Short are our joys, and neighb'ring griefs di-

Our pleasant hours. Inclement winter dwells
Contiguous; forthwith frosty blasts deface
The blithsome year: trees

of their shrivel'd

Are widow'd, dreary storms o'er all prevail.
Now, now's the time; ere hafty suns forbid
To work, disburden thou thy fapless wood
Of its rich progeny; the turgid fruit
Abounds with mellow liquor; now exhort
Thy hinds to exercise the pointed steel
On the hard rock, and give a wheely form
To the expected grinder: now prepare
Materials for thy mill, a turdy post
Cylindric, to support the grinder's weight
Excessive, and a flexile fallow' entrench'd,
Rounding, capacious of the juicy bord.
Nor must thou not be mindful of thy press
Long ere the vintage; but with timely care

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