Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose,
In various fhapes of Parsons, Critics, Beaux;
But fenfe furviv'd, when merry jests were past;
For rifing merit will buoy up at last.

460

Might he return, and bless once more our eyes,
New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arife:
Nay should great Homer lift his awful head,
Zoilus again would start up from the dead.

465

Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue;

But, like a fhadow, proves the fubstance true :

For envy'd Wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known
Th' oppofing body's groffness, not its own.

When first that fun too powerful beams difplays, 470
It draws up vapours which obfcure its rays;
But ev'n those clouds at laft adorn its way,
Reflect new glories, and augment the day.

Be thou the first true merit to befriend; His praise is loft, who stays till all commend. Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes,

475.

And 'tis but juft to let them live betimes.

No longer now that golden age appears,

When Patriarch-wits furviv'd a thousand years:
Now length of Fame (our fecond life) is loft,
And bare threefcore is all ev'n that can boast;
Our fons their fathers' failing language see,
And fuch as Chaucer is, fhall Dryden be.
So when the faithful pencil has design'd
Some bright idea of the mafter's mind,

VARIATION.

Ver. 485. Ed. 1. Some fair idea, &c.

480

485 Where

Where a new world leaps out at his command,
And ready Nature waits upon his hand;
When the ripe colours foften and unite,
And sweetly melt into just shade and light;
When mellowing years their full perfection give, 490
And each bold figure just begins to live,
The treacherous colours the fair art betray,
And all the bright creation fades away!
Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things,
Atones not for that envy which it brings,
In youth alone its empty praise we boast,
But foon the fhort-liv'd vanity is loft:

Like fome fair flower the early fpring fupplies,

495

That gayly blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies.
What is this Wit, which muft our cares employ? gon
The owner's wife, that other men enjoy;

The most our trouble still when most admir'd,

And still the more we give, the more requir'd;

Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease, Sure fome to vex, but never all to please ;

VARIATIONS.

505

"Tis

Ver. 490. Ed. 1. When mellowing time does, &c. Ver. 492. The treacherous colours in few years decay. Ver. 495. Repays not half that envy, &c.

Ver. 498.

Like fome fair flower that in the fpring does rise. Ver. 500. What is this wit that does our cares employ

Ver. 5c2.

The more his trouble as the more admir'd;

Where wanted, fcorn'd; and envy'd where acquir'd; Maintain'd with pains, but forfeited with ease, &c.

'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun,
By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone!
If Wit so much from ignorance undergo,
Ah, let not learning too commence its foe!
Of old, thofe met rewards, who could excell,
And fuch were prais'd who but endeavour'd well:
Though triumphs were to generals only due,
Crowns were refery'd to grace the foldiers too.
Now, they who reach Parnaffus' lofty crown,
Employ their pains to fpurn fome others down;
And while felf-love each jealous writer rules,
Contending wits become the sport of fools:
But still the worst with most regret commend,
For each ill author is as bad a friend.
To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd through facred lust of praise!
Ah, ne'er fo dire a thirft of glory boast,
Nor in the Critic let the man be lost.
Good-nature and good-sense must ever join ;
To err, is human; to forgive, divine.

But if in noble minds fome dregs remain Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and four difdain; Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.

510

515

520

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 508. Ed. 1. Too much does Wit, &c.
Ver. 514. Now those that reach, &c.

Ver. 519. And each, &c.

Ver. 521. Are mortals urg'd by facred, &c.

No

No pardon vile obfcenity should find,

Though wit and art confpire to move your mind;

But dulness with obscenity must prove,

As shameful fure as impotence in love.

In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,

530

Sprang the rank weed, and thriv'd with large increase: When love was all an easy Monarch's care;

Seldom at council, never in a war:

Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen farces writ;
Nay wits had penfions, and young lords had wit:
The Fair fat panting at a Courtier's play,

540

And not a mask went unimprov'd away :
The modeft fan was lifted up no more,

And Virgins finil'd at what they blush'd before.
The following license of a foreign reign

Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain ;

545

Then unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation,

And taught more pleasant methods of falvation;

550

Where Heaven's free fubjects might their rights difpute,
Left God himself should seem too abfolute :
Pulpits their facred fatire learn'd to spare,
And Vice admir'd to find a flatterer there!
Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies,
And the prefs groan'd with licens'd blafphemies.

VARIATION.

Thefe

Ver. 547. The Author has here omitted the two following lines; as containing a National Reflection, which in his ftricter judgment he could not but difapprove on any People whatever :

Then firft the Belgians' morals were extoll'd;
We their religion had, and they our gold,

Thefe Monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,

Here point your thunder, and exhauft your rage! 555
Yet fhun their fault, who, fcandaloufly nice,

Will needs mistake an author into vice;
All seems infected that th' infected fpy,

As all looks yellow to the jaundic❜d eye.

565

LEARN then what MORALS Critics ought to show; For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know. "Tis not enough, tafte, judgment, learning, join; In all you speak, let truth and candour shine : That not alone what to your fenfe is due All may allow; but seek your friendship too. Be filent always, when you And fpeak, though fure, with feeming diffidence: Some pofitive, perfifting fops we know, Who, if once wrong, will needs be always fo; But you, with pleasure, own your errors past, And make each day a critique on the last.

doubt

your

fense;

"Tis not enough your counfel ftill be true;
Blunt truths more mischief than nice falfehoods do;
Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot.
Without good-breeding, truth is disapprov'd;
That only makes fuperior sense belov'd.

VARIATIONS.

570

575

Be

Ver. 562. Tis not enough, wit, art, and learning join. Ver. 564. That not alone what to your judgment's due. Ver. 569. That if once wrong, &c.

Ver. 575. And things ne'er known, &c.

Ver. 576. Without good-breeding truth is not approv'd.