Adfcifcet nova, quae genitor produxerit ufus:
Vehemens et liquidus, puroque fimillimus amni,
Fundet opes, Latiumque beabit divite lingua:
Luxuriantia compefcet: nimis afpera fano
Levabit cultu, virtute carentia tollet:
Ludentis fpeciem dabit, et torquebitur, ut qui
Nunc Satyrum, nunc agreftem Cyclopa movetur.
• Praetulerim fcriptor delirus inerfque videri,
Dum mea delectent mala me, vel denique fallant,
Quam fapere, et ringi. Fuit haud ignobilis Argus,
Qui se credebat miros audire tragoedos,

NOTES.

VER. 170. For Use will father what's begot by Sense】 A very fine and happy improvement on the expreffion, if not on the thought, of his original.

VER. 175. But how no mercy to an empty line ;] To fuch, our Poet was always inexorable. Unless it was once, when in the full blaze of his glory, he chose to facrifice to envy, in that devoted and execrable line, in oné of the best translated books of the Odyssey,

Close to the Cliff with both his hands he clung, "And fuck adherent, and fufpended bung.

The small critics could never have fupported themselves without the confolation of such a verse; to which indeed ever fince the whole tribe of Scriblers

with both their hands have clung,

And fuck adherent, and fufpended hung.

Or bid the new be English, ages hence,

170

(For Ufe will father what's begot by Sense) Pour the full tide of eloquence along, Serenely pure, and yet divinely ftrong, Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue; Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine, But show no mercy to an empty line: Then polish all, with fo much life and eafe, You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please: "But ease in writing flows from Art, not chance "As thofe move eafieft who have learn'd to dance.

}

175

If fuch the plague and pains to write by rule, 180 Better (fay 1) be pleas'd, and play the fool; Call, if you will, bad rhiming a disease, It gives men happiness, or leaves them ease.

NOTES.

But there is a fet of fill lower Creatures than these, at the tail of which is one EDWARDS, who can make shift to subsist even on a Printer's blunder. The late Editor of Shakespear gave order to the corrector of the prefs, that all Mr. Pope's notes fhould be printed in their places. In one of these there was mention made, as they fay, of some Italian novels (I forget whose) in which Dec. and Nov. were printed thus contractedly. But the printers of the late edition lengthen'd them into December and November, and, in this condition, they are charged upon the Editor by this Edwards. Now, was the man such a Dunce to make his criticism with good faith, he is much to be pitied; was he fuch a Knave to make it without, he is much more to be pitied.

*N

In vacuo laetus feffor plausorque theatro :

Caetera qui vitae fervaret munia resto

More; bonus fane vicinus, amabilis hofpes,

Comis in uxorem ; poffet qui ignofcere fervis,
Et figno laefo non infanire lagenae:

Posset qui rupem, et puteum vitare patentem.

Hic ubi cognatorum opibus curifque refectus,
Expulit elleboro morbum bilemque meraco,
Et redit ad fefe: Pol me occidiftis, amici,
Non fervaftis, ait; cui fic extorta voluptas,

Et demtus per vim mentis gratiffimus error.

VER. 184. There liv'd in primo Georgii, etc.] The imitation of this story of the Madman is as much fuperior te his original, in the fine and easy manner of telling, as that of Lucullus's Soldier comes fhort of it. It is true the turn

There liv'd in primo Georgii (they record)
A worthy member, no fmall fool, a Lord;
Who, tho' the House was up, delighted fate,
Heard, noted, anfwer'd, as in full debate:

In all but this, a man of fober life,

Fond of his Friend, and civil to his Wife;

Not quite a mad-man, tho' a pafty fell,
And much too wife to walk into a well.

185

190

Him, the damn'd Doctors and his Friends immur'd, They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in fhort, they cur'd:

Whereat the gentleman began to ftare

My Friends! he cry'd, p-x take you for your care! That from a Patriot of diftinguish'd note,

Have bled and purg'd me to a fimple Vote.

196

Well, on the whole, plain Profe must be my fate: Wisdom (curfe on it) will come foon or late.

There is a time when Poets will grow dull:
I'll e'en leave verses to the boys at school:
To rules of Poetry no more confin'd,

I learn to fmooth and harmonize my Mind,
Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll,
And keep the equal measure of the Soul.

NOTES.

200

205

Horace's madman took, agrees better with the fubject of his Epiftle, which is Poetry; and doubtless there were other beauties in it, which time has deprived us of

› Ac non verba fequi fidibus modulanda Latinis,

Sed verae numerofque modofque edifcere vitae.

Quocirca mecum loquor haec, tacitufque recordor:

t

↑ Si tibi nulla fitim finiret copia lymphae,

Narrares medicis: quod quanto plura parasti,
Tanto plura cupis, nulline faterier audes?

v Si vulnus tibi monftrata radice vel herba Non fieret levius, fugeres radice vel herba Proficiente nihil curarier: audieras, cui

Rem Dî donarint, illi decedere pravam
Stultitiam; et, cum fis nihilo fapientior, ex quo

Plenior es, tamen uteris monitoribus îsdem ?

At fi divitiae prudentem reddere poffent,

Si cupidum timidumque minus te; nempe ruberes,

Viveret in terris te fi quis avarior uno.

NOTES.

VER. 218. When golden Angels, etc] This illuftration is much happier than that employed in his original; as by raifing pecuniary ideas, it prepares the mind for that morality it is brought to illuftrate.