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hanged who would take it away. It was this that made me write. The fenfe of my faults made me correct befides that it was as pleafant to me to correct as to write.

At p. 9. 1. 2.-In the first place I own that I have used my best endeavours to the finishing these pieces. That I made what advantage I could of the judgment of authors dead and living; and that I omitted no means in my power to be informed of my errors by my friends and my enemies: And that I expect no favour on account of my youth, business, want of health, or any fuch idle excufes. But the true reason they are not yet more correct is owing to the confideration how fhort a time they, and I, have to live. A man that can expect but fixty years may be ashamed to employ thirty in measuring fyllables and bringing fenfe and rhyme together. We spend our youth in purfuit of riches or fame, in hopes to enjoy them when we are old, and when we are old, we find it is too late to enjoy any thing. I therefore hope the Wits will pardon me, if I referve fome of my time to fave my foul; and that fome wife men will be of my opinion, even if I fhould think a part of it better fpent in the enjoyments of life than in pleafing the critics.

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W
'ITH Age decay'd, with Courts and bus'nefs tir'd,
Caring for nothing but what Eafe requir'd;
Too dully ferious for the Mufe's fport,
And from the Critics fafe arriv'd in Port;
I little thought of launching forth agen,
Amidst advent'rous Rovers of the Pen:
And after fo much undeferv'd fuccefs,
Thus hazarding at last to make it lefs.
Encomiums fuit not this cenforious time,
Itself a fubject for fatiric rhyme;
Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd!
But to this Genius, join'd with fo much Art,
Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part,
Poets are bound a loud applaufe to pay;
Apollo bids it, and they must obey.

And yet fo wonderful, fublime a thing
As the great ILIAD, fcarce could make me fing;

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VER. 11.] This is the common-place cant of men tir'd with business and courts.

"This is mere moral babble." Comus, p. 806.

Except I juftly could at once commend
A good Companion, and as firm a Friend.
One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed
Can all defert in Sciences exceed.

'Tis great delight to laugh at fome mens ways, But a much greater to give Merit praise.

TO MR. POPE.

ON HIS PASTORALS.

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N these more dull, as more cenforious days, I' When few dare give, and fewer merit praise, A Muse fincere, that never Flatt'ry knew, Pays what to friendship and defert is due. Young, yet judicious; in your verse are found Art strength'ning Nature, Senfe improv'd by Sound. Unlike thofe Wits, whofe numbers glide along So fmooth, no thought e'er interrupts the fong: Laboriously enervate they appear,

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And write not to the head, but to the ear:
Our minds unmov'd and unconcern'd they lull,
And are at beft moft mufically dull:

So purling ftreams with even murmurs creep,
And hush the heavy hearers into sleep.
As smoothest speech is most deceitful found,
The smootheft numbers oft are empty found.
But Wit and Judgment join at once in you,
Sprightly as Youth, as Age confummate too:

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Your

Your ftrains are regularly bold, and please
With unforc'd care, and unaffected eafe,
With proper thoughts, and lively images :
Such as by Nature to the Ancients fhewn,
Fancy improves, and judgment makes your own:
For great mens fashions to be follow'd are,
Altho' difgraceful 'tis their clothes to wear.
Some in a polifh'd ftyle write Paftoral,
Arcadia fpeaks the language of the Mall;
Like fome fair Shepherdefs, the Sylvan Mufe
Should wear those flow'rs her native fields produce;
And the true measure of the Shepherd's wit
Should, like his garb, be for the Country fit:
Yet muft his pure and unaffected thought
More nicely than the common fwains be wrought.
So, with becoming art, the Players dress,
In filks the shepherd, and the fhepherdefs;
Yet still unchang'd the form and mode remain,
Shap'd like the homely ruffet of the fwain.
Your rural Mufe appears to justify

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The long loft graces of Simplicity:
So rural beauties captivate our fenfe
With virgin charms, and native excellence.
Yet long her Modefty thofe charms conceal'd,
'Till by mens Envy to the world reveal'd;
For Wits industrious to their trouble feem,
And needs will envy what they must esteem.

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..VER. 28, Sylvan Mufe] From Boileau's Art of Poetry, Chant. 2. 1. 1. Pope feems to have corrected these lines.

Live

VOL. I.

C

Live and enjoy their spite! nor mourn that fate, Which would, if Virgil liv'd, on Virgil wait; Whose Muse did once, like thine, in plains delight; Thine fhall, like his, foon take a higher flight; So Larks, which firft from lowly fields arife, Mount by degrees, and reach at last the skies.

W. WYCHERLEY.

TO MR. POPE,

ON HIS WINDSOR-FOREST.

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AIL, facred Bard! a Mufe unknown before HA Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic fhore. To our dark world thy fhining page is shown, And Windfor's gay retreat becomes our own. The Eastern pomp had just bespoke our care, And India pour'd her gaudy treasures here: A various fpoil adorn'd our naked land, The pride of Perfia glitter'd on our strand, And China's earth was caft on common fand: Tofs'd up and down the gloffy fragments lay, And drefs'd the rocky fhelves, and pav'd the painted

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bay.

Thy treasures next arriv'd: and now we boaft
A nobler cargo on our barren coast:
From thy luxuriant Forest we receive
More lasting glories than the Eaft can give.

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Where

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