Human Nature, but the Mother of a thoufand Errors, and a thoufand Crimes, and the Caufe of moft of the Misfortunes which are incident to Humanity.

The laft Defect that I fhall take notice of, is, That the Machines in this Poem are not taken from one Syftem, but are double, nay treble or quadruple, In the firft Canto we hear of nothing but Sylphs, and Gnomes, and Salamanders, which are Roficrucian Vifions. In the fecond we meet with Fairies, Genii, and Demons, Beings which are unknown to those Fanatick Sophifters. In the fourth, Spleen and the Phantoms about, are deriv'd from the Powers of Nature, and are of a feparate Syftem. And Fate and Jove, which we find in the fifth Canto, belong to the Heathen Religion.

But now, Sir, in treating of these Matters, I have, before I perceiv'd it, tranfgrefs'd the Bounds which I prescrib'd to my felf, which I defire that you would excufe.

I am, SIR,

Yours, &c.

In his next Letter he finds general Fault with all the Poems, and will not allow that there is any Thing good either in Diction, Sentiments, Verfification, Contrivance, or Execution; and mentioning the two Lines Belinda fpeaks, lamenting the Lofs of the Lock, he adds eight more, which I can't say I think any great Ornament to the Poem.

Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry Side are seen Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by Spleen; Here living Tea-Pots stand, one Arm held out, One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout.

A

A Pipkin there like Homer's Tripod walks,
Here fighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie talks :
Men prove with Child, as pow'rful Fancy works,
And Maids, turn'd Bottles, call aloud for Corks.
Then adds to his Friend:

Now, Sir, I appeal to you and your Friends, if ever there was fuch execrable Stuff, fuch lamentable, fuch deplorable Pleasantry! What fays Horace?

Scribendi rectè fapere eft & principium & fons. However this Criticifm is dead, funk in Oblivion, and the Rape of the Lock living, beautiful, and prais'd; and if not entirely without Faults, they are fuch as are not obvious to every Reader, and easily pardon'd by the Difcerner, who finds fo many Things to admire, he forgets or elfe forgives thofe little Offences to Decency; (for there indeed lies all the Offence) and Mr. Dennis having often taken the like Liberty himself, might have done lefs than fet his Hand to keep down rifing Merit. His other Attempts (for he made more on Windfor-Foreft, Temple of Fame, and the Tranflation of Homer) were as vain as this. He concludes this Criticifm by calling Mr. Pope an Afs; and indeed seems very angry, to find that there was a Poet coming or rather come forward, that would wear a greener Lawrel than himself. I don't find that Mr. Pope ever made any Reply to this, but treafur'd it up, to help to furnifh fresh Matter for the Dunciad, a Work, of which hereafter we shall speak more at large.

The abovemention'd Poem has been translated into French and Italian, and though it appears without all its original Beauty in both, it has been very well received; yet the Italian Ladies can but wonder that fo young and fine a Createre, as Belinda, fhould be

fo

fo long unguarded by her Mother, Aunt, or fome one, whose Business it fhould have been to have taken Care of her Lock and her Reputation too: Whilft the French Ladies fee nothing to grieve at, and fay, What hinder'd her from wearing a Tete with Curls as long again. We don't find Mr. Dennis's Criticifm was ever translated.

Another Poem that created him no little Envy, and much more Praise, was the Temple of Fame; the Hint of it was taken from Chaucer's Houfe of Fame; the Design is in a Manner entirely alter'd, the Defcriptions, and most of the particular Thoughts his own, yet he would not fuffer it to be printed without this Acknowledgment; not thinking a Concealment of this Nature the lefs unfair for being common. Whoever has a Mind to compare this Poem with Chaucer, may begin with the Third Book of Fame, there being nothing in the two first that anfwers to their Title.

After defcribing the Temple, he speaks of his firft Sight of Fame: 16

Scarce to the Top I ftretch'd my aking Sight,
So large it fpread, and fwell'd to fuch a Height.
Full in the midft, proud Fame's Imperial Seat,
With Jewels blaz'd, magnificently great;
The vivid Em'ralds there revive the Eye;
The flaming Rubies fhew their fanguine Dye;
Bright azure Rays from lively Saphires ftream,
And lucid Amber cafts a golden Gleam.

With various-colour'd Lights the Pavement shone
And all on Fire appear'd the glowing Throne :
The Dome's high Arch reflects the mingled Blaze,
And forms a Rainbow of alternate Rays.
When on the Goddess first I caft my Sight,
Scarce feem'd her Stature of a Cubit's Height,

But

12

But fwell'd to larger Size the more I gaz'd,
"Till to the Roof her tow'ring Front the rais'd.
With her, the Temple every Moment grew,
And ampler Viftas open'd to my View;
Upward the Columns fhoot, the Roofs afcend,
And Arches widen, and long Iles extend.
Such was her Form, as antient Bards have told ;
Wings raife her Arms, and Wings her Feet infold;
A thousand bufy Tongues the Goddess bears,
And thousand open Eyes, and thousand lift'ning Ears.
Beneath, in Order rang'd, the tuneful Nine
(Her Virgin Handmaids) ftill attend the Shrine:
With Eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they fing;
For Fame they raise the Voice, and tune the String.
With Time's firft Birth began the Heav'nly Lays,
And laft eternal thro' the Length of Days.

First at the Shrine the learned World appear,
And to the Goddess thus prefer their Prayer :
Long have we fought t'inftruct and please Mankind,
With Studies pale, with midnight Vigils blind;
But thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none,
We here appeal to thy fuperior Throne:
On Wit and Learning the juft Prize beftow,
For Fame is all we muft expect below.

The Goddess heard, and bad the Mufes raise
The Golden Trumpet of eternal Praise :
From Pole to Pole the Winds diffuse the Sound,
That fills the Circuit of the World around;
Not all at once, as Thunder breaks the Cloud,
The Notes at firft were rather fweet than loud:
By juft Degrees they every Moment rife,
Fill the wide Earth, and gain upon the Skies.
At every Breath were balmy Odours fhed,
Which still grew fweeter as they wider spread :
Lefs fragrant Scents th' unfolding Rofe exhales,
Or Spices breathing in Arabian Gales.

Next these the Good and Juft, an awful Train, Thus on their Knees address'd the facred Fane. Since living Virtue is with Envy curst,

And the beft Men are treated like the worst,
Do thou, juft Goddefs, call our Merits forth,
And give each Deed th' exact intrinfic Worth.
Not with bare Juftice fhall your Act be crown'd,
(Said Fame) but high above Defert renown'd:
Let fuller Notes th' applauding World amaze,
And the loud Clarion labour in your Praife.

And now a Rabble-Rout of Scribblers appear'd in Arms, Mr. Dennis at their Head; and as they ftrove to deftroy Mr. Pope's Temple of Fame, deftroy'd their own, and firmly. eftablifh'd his; Sir Richard Steele lending a Hand, having approved of it before its Appearance in Publick in the following Letter:

Mr. STEELE to Mr. POPE.

Nov. 12, 17.12.

HAVE read over your Temple of Fame twice, and cannot find any thing amifs of Weight e nough to call a Fault, but fee in it a Thousand Beaur ties. Mr. Addison fhall fee it to Morrow: After his Perufal of it, I will let you know his Thoughts. I defire you will let me know whether you are at Leifure or not? I have a Defign which I fhall open a Month or two hence, with the Affiftance of the Few like yourfelf. If your Thoughts are unengaged, I fhall explain myself further.

I am, Your, &c.

And accordingly it had as good Treatment from Mr. Addifon, whofe Friendship Mr. Pope had, as he

imagined,