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Adsciscet nova, quae genitor produxerit ufus :
Vehemens et liquidus, puroque fimillimus amni,
Fundet opes, Latiumque beabit divite lingua.
Luxuriantia compescet : nimis aspera sano
Levabit cultu, virtute carentia tollet : .
Ludentis fpeciem dabit, et torquebitur, ut qui
Nunc Satyrum, nunc agreftem Cyclopa movetur.

• Praetulerim scriptor delirus inersque videri, Dum mca dele&tent mala me, vel denique fallant, Quam sapere, 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, it not on the thought, of his original.

VBR. 175. But show no mercy to an empty line ;] To such, 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 one of the beft translated books of the Odyssey,

• Close to the Cliff with both his hands he clung,

And Auck adherent, and suspended hung: The small critics could never have fupported themselves without the consolation of such a verse; to which indeed ever since the whole tribe of Scriblers

with both their hands have clung, And fuck adherent, and suspended hung.

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Or bid the new be English, ages hence,
(For Use will father what's begot by Sense) 170
Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong,
Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue ;
Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine,
But show no mercy to an empty line:

175 Then polish all, with so much life and ease, You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please : “ But ease in writing flows from Art, not chance 66 As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.

. If such the plague and pains to write by rule, 180 Better (say I) 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 set of fill lower Creatures than these, at the tail of which is one EDWARDS, who can make shift to fubfift even on a Printer's blunder. The late Editor of Shakespear gave order to the corrector of the press, that all Mr. Pope's notes thould be printed in their places. In one of these there was mention made, as they say, of some Italian novels (I forget whose) in which Dec. and Nov. were printed thus contráctedly. 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 such a Knave to make it without, he is much more to be pitied.

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Et redit ad fefe : Pol me occidiftis, amici,

Non fervaftis, ait; cui fic extorta voluptas,

Et demtus per vim mentis gratiffimus error.

Nimirum fapere eft abjectis utile nugis,

Et tempeftivum pueris concedere ludum ;

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

There liv'd in prima Georgië (they record)
A worthy member, no small fool, a Lord; 185
Who, tho' the House was up, delighted fate,
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate :
In all but this, a man of sober life,
Fond of his Friend, and civil to his Wife;
Not quite a mad-man, tho' a pasty fell, 190
And much too wise to walk into a well.
Him, the damn'd Doctors and his Friends immur'd,
They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in Ihort, 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 distinguish'd note, 196
Have bled and purg'd me to a simple Vote.

Well, on the whole, plain Prose must be my fate: Wisdom (curse on it) will come soon 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 smooth and harmonize my Mind, Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll, And keep the equal measure of the Soul.

205

200

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

* Ac non verba sequi fidibus modulanda Latinis, Sed verae numerosque modosque ediscere vitae. Quocirca mecum loquor haec, tacitusque recordor:

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 Di donarint, illi decedere pravam

Stultitiam ; et, cum fis nihilo fapientior, ex quo

Plenior es, tamen uteris monitoribus ildem?

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 illustration is much happier than that employed in nis original ; as by raising pecuniary ideas, it prepares the mind for that morality it is brought to illustrate.

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