in joining together Parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the Repetition of the fame too frequently, ver. 105, &c. A word or two of falfe Taste in Books, in Mufic, in Painting, even in Preaching and Prayer, and lastly in Entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet PROVIDENCE is juftified in giving Wealth to be squandered in this manner, fince it is difperfed to the Poor and Laborious part of mankind, ver. 169. [recurring to what is laid down in the first Book, Ep. ii. and in the Epiftle preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper Objects of Magnificence, and a proper field for the Expence of Great Men, ver. 177, &c. and finally the Great and Public Works which become a Prince, ver. 191, to the end.

EPISTLE IV.

THE extremes of Avarice and Profufion being treated of in the foregoing Epiftle; this takes up one particular branch of the latter, the Vanity of Expence in people of wealth and quality; and is therefore a corollary to the preceding, juft as the epistle on the Characters of Women is to that of the Knowledge and Characters of Men. It is equally remarkable for exactness of method with the reft. But the nature of the fubject, which is lefs philofophical, makes it capable. of being analyzed in a much narrower compass.

'T

IS ftrange, the Mifer fhould his Cares employ To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy : Is it lefs ftrange, the Prodigal should waste His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste? Not for himself he fees, or hears, or eats; Artifts muft chufe his Pictures, Mufic, Meats: He buys for Topham Drawings and Defigns; For Pembroke Statues, dirty Gods, and Coins; Rare monkish Manufcripts for Hearne alone, And Books for Mead, and Butterflies for Sloane. Think we all thefe are for himself? no more Than his fine Wife, alas! or finer Whore. For what has Virro painted, built, and planted? Only to fhew, how many taftes he wanted. What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste? Some Dæmon whisper'd, "Vifto! have a Taste."

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IQ

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Heaven

Heaven vifits with a Taste the wealthy Fool,
And needs no Rod but Ripley with a Rule.
See! fportive Fate, to punish aukward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and fends him fuch a Guide:
A standing fermon, at each year's expence,
That never Coxcomb reach'd magnificence!
You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse,
And pompous buildings once were things of Ufe.
Yet fhall (my Lord) your juft, your noble rules
Fill half the land with imitating Fools;....

Who random drawings from your sheets fhall take,
And of one beauty many blunders make;
Load fome vain Church with old Theatric state,
Turn Arts of triumph to a Garden-gate; ·
Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all
On fome patch'd dog-hole ek'd with ends of wall;
Then clap four flices of Pilafter on't,

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That, lac'd with bits of ruftic, makes a Front.
Shall call the winds through long arcades to roar,
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
Conscious they act a true Palladian part,
And if they starve, they starve by rules of art.
Oft have you hinted to your brother Peer,
A certain truth, which many buy too dear:

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25

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35

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Some

VARIATION.

After ver. 22. in the MS.

Muft Bishops, Lawyers, Statesmen, have the skill' To build, to plant, judge paintings, what you will? Then why not Kent as well our treaties draw, Bridgman explain the Gofpel, Gibbs the Law?

Something there is more needful than Expence,
And fomething previous ev'n to Tafte-'tis Senfe :
Good Senfe, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And, though no Science, fairly worth the feven:
A Light, which in yourself you must perceive;
Jones and Le Nôtre have it not to give.

To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the Column, or the arch to bend,
To fwell the Terras, or to fink the Grot;
In all, let Nature never be forgot.

But treat the Goddess like a modest fair,
Nor over-drefs, nor leave her wholly bare;
Let not each beauty every where be spy'd,
Where half the skill is decently to hide.

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He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds,

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Surprizes, varies, and conceals the Bounds.

Confult the Genius of the Place in all;
That tells the Waters or to rife, or fall;
Or helps th' ambitious Hill the heavens to scale,
Or fcoops in circling theatres the Vale;
Calls-in the country, catches opening glades,
Joins willing woods, and varies fhades from fhades
Now breaks, or now directs th' intending Lines;
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
Still follow Senfe, of every Art the Soul,
Parts answering parts shall flide into a whole,
Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
Start ev'n from Difficulty, strike from Chance ;
Nature fhall join you; Time shall make it grow
A Work to wonder at-perhaps a STOW.

Without

Without it, proud Verfailles! thy glory falls: And Nero's Terraces defert their walls:

The vaft Parterres a thousand hands fhall make,
Lo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a Lake:
Or cut wide views through mountains to the Plain, 75
You'll with your hill or shelter'd feat again.
Ev'n in an ornament its place remark,

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Nor in an Hermitage fet Dr. Clarke.
Behold Villario's ten years toil complete ;
His Quincunx darkens, his Efpaliers meet;
The wood fupports the Plain, the parts unite,
And strength of Shade contends with ftrength of Light;
A waving Glow the bloomy beds display,
Blushing in bright diverfities of day,

With filver-quivering rills mæander'd o'er

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Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more;

Tir'd of the fcene Parterres and Fountains yield.
He finds at laft he better likes a Field.

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Through his young Woods how pleas'd Sabinus ftray'd, Or fate delighted in the thickening fhade, With annual joy the reddening shoots to greet, Or fee the ftretching branches long to meet! His Son's fine Taste an opener Vista loves, Foe to the Dryads of his Father's groves; One boundless Green, or flourish'd Carpet views, With all the mournful family of Yews : The thriving plants ignoble broomsticks made, Now sweep thofe Alleys they were born to shade. At Timon's Villa let us pass a day,

Where all cry out, "What fums are thrown away!"

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So