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Truth stamps convi&tion in your ravish'd breast, For, greedy of physicians frequent fees,
Truch Atill is one; truth is divinely bright, Struts in a new unlicens'd gown, and then
His name struck every where as great a damp; Whose exposition leaves it unperplex'd.
As Archimedes through the Roman camp. They who too faithfully on names inlist,
With this, the doctor's pride began to cool; Racher create than diffipate the mist;
For smarting foundly may convince a fool. And grow unjust by being over-nice,
But now repentance came too late for grace; (For superstitious virtue turns to vice.)
And meagre Famine star'd him in the face: Let Crassus's * ghost and Labienus tell
Pain would he to the wives be reconcil'd, How twice in Parthian plains their legions fell. But found no husband left to own a child. Since Rome hath been so jealous of her fame. The friends, that got the brats, were poifou'd That few know Pacorus' or Monæses' name. Words in one language elegantiy us’d,
In this fad case, what could our vermin do? Will hardly in another be excus'd.
Worry'd with debts and past all hope of bail, And some that Rome admir'd in Cæsar's time, Thi’unpity'd wretch lies rotting in a jail: May neither suit our genius nor our clime. And there with basket-alms, farce kept alive, The genuine fenfe, intelligibly told,
Shews how mistaken talents ought to thrive. Shews a translator both discreet and bold.
I pity, from my soul, unhappy men, Excursions are inexpiably bad;
Conpeli'd by want to proftitute their pen; And 'tis much safer to leave out than add. Who must, like lawyers, either ftarve or plead, Abitruse and mystic thoughts you must exprefs And Collow, right or wrong, where guineas lead! With painful care, but secming casiness;
But you, Pompilian, weaithy, pamper'd heirs, For truth tipes brightest through the plainest Who to your country owe your swords and cares, dress.
Lei no vain hope your easy inind seduce, Th' Ænean Muse, when the appears in sate, For rich ill poets are without excuse. Makes all Jove's thunder on her verses wait. 'Tis very dangerous, tampering with a Moses Yet writes fometimes as soft and moving things The profit 's small, and you have much to lose; As Venus fpeaks, or Philumeta fings.
For though true wit adorns your birth or place, Your author always will the bett advise,
Degenerate lines degrade th' attainted race. Fall when he falls, and when he riles rise.
No poet any pallion can excite, Affected noise is the most wretched thing,
But what they feel transport them when they That to contempt can empty fcriblers bring.
write, Vowels and accents, regularly plac'd,
Have you been led through the Cumæan cave, On even fyllables (and itill the last).
And heard th' impatient maid divinciy rave? Though gross innumerable faults abound,
I hear her now; i lec her rolling eyes : In spite of nonsense, never fail of sound.
And panting; Lo! the god, the god, she cries; But this is meant of even verse alone,
With words not hers, and more than human sound As being most harmonious and most known : She makes th' obedient ghosts peep trembling For if you will unequal numbers try,
through the ground. There accents on odd syllables must lie.
But, though we must obey when heaven comWhatever filter of the learned Nine
mands, Does to your fuit a willing ear incline,
And man in vain the sacred call withstands, Urge your success, deserve a lafting name, Eeware what spirit rages in your breast; She'll crown a grateful and a constant fiame. For ten inspir'd, ten thousand are pofleft. But, if a wild uncertainty prevail,
Thus make the proper use of cach extreme, And turn your vecring heart with every gałe, And write with fury, but correct with phlegm. You lose the fruit of all your former care, As when the cheerful hours too frcely pass, For the fad prospect of a juft despair.
And sparkling wine siniles in the tempting glass, A quack (coo fcandaloully mean to name) Your pulfe advises, and begins to beat Had, by man-midwifery, got wealth and fame : Through every swelling vein a loud retrcat; As if Lucina had forgot her trade,
So when a Mure propitiously invites, The labouring wife invokes his furer aid.
Improve her favours, and indulge her Aights; Well-feafon'd bowls the godip's spirits raise, But when you find that vigorous heat abate, Who, while lae guzzles, chats the doctor's praise; Leave off, and for another summons wait. And largely, what the wants in words, supplies, Before the radiant fun, a glimmering lamp, With maudlin-eloquence of trickling eyes.
Adulterate metals to the iterling stamp, Best what a thougheless aninial is man!
Appear not meaner, than mere human lines, (How very adive in his owo trepan!)
Compar'd with those whose inspiration Thines;
Thele nervous, bold; those languid and remiss; * Hor. 3 04. vi.
There, cold falutes; but here a lover's kils.
Thus have I seen a rapid headlong tide,
• Lcd our exalted fouls through heavenly catepe, With foaming waves the passive Soane divide; And mark'd the ground where proud apoftare Whose lazy waters without motion lay,
" thrones While he, with eager force, urg'd his impetuous Defy'd Jehovah! Here, 'twixt host and hoft, way.
(A narrow, but a dreadful interval) The privilege that ancient poets claim, • Portentous fight! before the cloudy van Now turn'd to licence by too just a name,
Satan with vast and haughty ftrides advanc'd, Belongs to none but an establish'd fame,
• Came towering arm'd in adamant and gold. Which scorns to take it
'There bellowing engines, with their fiery tubes, Absurd expressions, crude, atortive thoughts, Dispers'd æthereal forms, and down they fell all the lewd legion of exploded faults,
"By thousands, angels on archangels rolld; Base fugitives to that asylum fly,
• Recover'd, to the hills they ran, they flew, And sacred laws with insolence defy.
" Which (with their ponderous load, rocks, waten, Not thus our heroes of the former days,
' woods) Deserv'd and gain'd their never-fading bays; " From their firm seats torn by the shaggy tope For I mistake, or far the greatest part
They bore like frields before them through the of what some call neglect, was study'd art.
' air, When Virgil secms to trifle in a line,
• Till more incens'd they hurl'd them at their las 'Tis like a warning-piece, which gives the sign ' All was confuson, heaven's foundation hook, To wake your fancy, and prepare your sight, " Threatning no less than univerfal wreck, To reach the noble height of fonie unusual flight. · For Michael's arm main promontories flung, I lose my patience, when with saucy pride, ' And over-prest whole legions weak with fir : By untun'd ears I hear his numbers try'd. · Yet they blasphem'd and struggled as they las, Reverse of nature ! shall such copies then
« Till the great ensign of Mefliah blaz’d, Arraign th' originals of Maro's pen!
* And (arm’d with vengeance) God's victorio And the rnde notions of pedantic schools Blafpheme the sacred founder of our rules! (Effulgence of paternal deity) The delicacy of the nicest ear
• Grafping ten thousand thunders in his hand, Finds nothing harsh or out of order there. • Drove th' old original rebels headlong down, Sublime or low, unbended or intense,
. And sent them flaming to the vast abyss.' The sound is still a comment to the sense.
may I live to hail the glorious day, A skilful ear in numbers should preside, And fing loud pæans through the crowded way, And all disputes without appeal decide.
When in triumphant state the British Muse, This ancient Rome and elder Athens found, True to herself, fhall barbarous aid refuse, Before mistaken stops debauch'd the found. And in the Roman majesty appear,
When, by impulse from heaven, Tyrtæus sung, Which none know better, and none come fonet. In droopirg soldiers a new courage sprung; Reviving Sparta now the fight maintain'd, And what two generals lott a poet gain'd. By secret influence of indulgent skies, Empire and poely together rise. True poets are the guardians of a state, And, when they fail, portend approaching fate, EARL OF ROSC O M MOX, For that which Rome to conquer did inspire, Was not the Vestal, but the Muses' fire ;
ON HIS ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSI, Heaven joins the bleflings : No declining age E'er felt the raptures of poetic rage.
BY DR. CHETWOOD, 1684. Of many faults, rhyme is (perhaps) the cause ; Too strid to rhyme, we light more useful laws, S when by labouring stars new kingdoms rue For that, im Greece or Rome, was never known, Till by barbarian deluges o’erflown:
A court unform’d, disorder at the bar, Subdued, undone, they did at last obey,
And ev'n in peace the rugged mien of war, And change their own for their invaders' way. Till some wise itatesman into method draws
I grant that from some mosly, idol oak, The parts, and animates the frame with laws; In double rhymes our 'Thor and Woden spoke; Such was the case when Chaucer's early tou And by succession of unlearned times,
Founded the Muses' empire in our foil.
But now that Phæbus and the facred Nine, But lost a noble Mufe in Fairy-land.
as they wear the bays • prose
Search'd all the treasuries of Greece and Rome,
And brought the precious spoils in triumph kocke * An essay on blank verfe, out of Paradise Lost, But still our language had some ancient rut; B. VI.
Our flights were often high, but seldom jail.
There wanted one, who license could restrain, True Poets souls to Princes are ally'd,
Heaven trusts the present time to Monarch's care, 'To hold the scales, and give the stamp of wic; Eternity is the good Writer's Thare.* in whom ripe judgment and young fancy meet; And sorce poetic rage to be discreet; Who grows not nauseous while he strives to please, But marks the shelves in the poetic feas. Who knows, and teaches what our clime can
bear, And makes the barren ground obey the labourer's EARL OF ROSCOMMON; Few could conceive, none the great work could OCCASIONED BY HIS LORD SHIP'S ESSAY ON
do, 'Tis a fresh province, and reserv'd for you. Those talents all are yours, of which but one
From the Latin of Mr. Charles Dryden.
BY MR. NEEDLER.
"HAT happy Britain boasts her tunelul racc, Created to moleft the world, and die. Your file docs polish what your fancy cast;
By the explain’d, had taught the listening age;
No more content great Maro's steps to trace, No fame you wound, give no chaste cars offence, New paths we search, and tread unbeaten' ways. Still true to friendship, modesty, and fense. Ye Britons, then, triumphantly rejoice ; So Saints, from Heaven for our example sent,
And with loud peals, and ne consenting voice, Live to their rules, have nothing to repent. Applaud the man who does unrival'd lit, Horace, if living, hy exchange of fate,
“ The sovereign-judge and arbiter of wit !" Would give no laws, but only yours translate. For, led by thee, an endless train thall rise
Hoist fail, bold writers, search, discover fur, Of Poets, who shall climb superior skies; You have a compass for a Polar-star.
Heroes and Gods in worthy verse shall fing, Tune Orpheus' harp, and with enchanting rhymes And tune to Homer's lay the lofty string. Soften the favage humour of the times.
Thy works too, sovereign Bardt! if right I see, Tell all those untouch'd wonders which appear'd
They shall translate with equal majesty; When Fate itself for our great Monarch fear'di While with new joy thy happy shade shall rove Securely through the dangerous forest led
Through the blett mazes of th’ Elysian grove, By guards of Angels, when his own were fled. And, wondering, in Britannia's rougher tongue Heaven kindly exercis'd his youth with cares,
To find thy heroes and thy shepherds sung,' To crown with unmix'd joys his riper years.
Shall break forth in these words : “ Thy favour'a Make warlike James's peaceful virtues known,
name, The second hope and genius of the throne. Great heir and guardian of the Mantuan fame! Heaven in compaginn brought him on our stage, How shall my willing gratitude pursue Po tanie the fury of a monitrous age.
With praises large as to thy worth are due ? But what blest voice shall your Maria sing? Though tasteless Bards, by Nature never caught, Or a fit offering to her altars bring ?
In wretched rhymes disguise my genuine thought; in joys, in grief, in triumphs, in retreat, Though Homer now the wars of godlike Kings Great always, without aiming to be great. in Ovid's soft enervate numbers sings : True Roman najelty adorns her face;
Tuneful Silenus, and the matchless verse And every gesture 's form'd by every Grace. That does the birth of infant worlds rehearse, Her beauties are too heavenly and refin'd Atones for all, by that my rescued fame For the gross senses of a vulgar mind.
Shall vie in age with Nature's deathless frame; It is your part (you Pocts can divine) ? By thee the learned song hall nobly live, To prophesy how she by Heaven's design
And praise from every British tongue receive. Shall give an heir to the great British line,
Give to thy daring genins then the rein,
And freely launch into a bolder Itrain;
* See Miscellany Poems, 1780, vol. III. p. 173.
+ Virgil. H. N.
VIRGIL's SIXTH ECLOGUE,
SI LE NU S.
L E N
THE ARGUMENT. Two young foepberds, Chromis and Mnafylus, baving
been often promised a song by Silenus, chance to catch bim asleep in this Eclogue; ubere they bind bim band and fout, and then claim bis promise. Silenus, findo ing they would be put off no longer, begins bis song, in which be describes tbe formation of the universe, and the original of animals, according to the Epicurean pbilosopby; and oben runs through the most fura prising transformations which have bappened in Nature fince ber birth. This Eelogue was designed as a compliment to Syro tbe Epicurean, who instructed Virgil and Varus in tbe principles of that philofopby. Silenus acts as tutor, Cbronis and Mnafylus as the two pupils.
Nor bluth'd to dwell among Sicilian swains,
But yet (if any with indulgent eyes
Proceed my Muse.
With that he rais'd his tuneful voice aloud, The knotty oaks their listening branches bow'd, And savage beasts and Sylvan Gods did crowd;
For lo! he sung the world's stupendous birth, How scatter'd feeds of fea, and air, and carth,
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF
TOLLY and vice are casy to describe,
But when true virtues, with unclouded light,
O happy islands, if you knew your bliss !
S O N G.
ON A YOUNG LADY WHO SUNG FINELY, AND
WAS AFRAID OF A COLD.
'Till fatal tempelts swell the sea. n vain let sinking pilots pray;
Bencath thy yoke let Nature bend,
Yet we unmov'd will fit and smile,
And thou, blest Genius of our ille, rom Winter's rage defend her voice, At which the listening Gods rejoice.
May that celestial sound each day Vith extasy transport our souls, Whilft all our passions it controuls,
And kindly drives our cares away; ct no ungentle cold destroy, Il taste we have of heavenly joy!