• Clos'd their long Glories with a figh, to find
Th' unwilling Gratitude of base mankind!
All human Virtue, to its latest breath,
f Finds Envy never conquer'd, but by Death.
The great Alcides, every Labour past,
Had ftill this Monfter to fubdue at last.
g Sure fate of all, beneath whose rising ray
Each star of meaner merit fades away!
Opprefs'd we feel the beam directly beat,
Thofe Suns of Glory please not till they set.
To thee, the World its present homage pays,
The Harvest early, but mature the praise;
Great Friend of Liberty! in Kings a Name
Above all Greek, above all Roman Fame*:
Whofe Word is Truth, as facred and rever'd,
i As Heaven's own Oracles from Altars heard.
Wonder of Kings! like whom, to mortal eyes
k None e'er has rifen, and none e'er fhall rife.
• Ploravere fuis non refpondere favorem
Speratum meritis. diram qui contudit Hydram,
Notaque fatali portenta labore fubegit,
Comperit f invidiam fupremo fine domari,
Urit enim fulgore fuo, qui praegravat artes
Infra fe pofitas: extinctus amabitur idem.
h Praefenti tibi maturos largimur honores,
i Jurandafque tuum per numen ponimus aras,
k Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes.
Sed tuus hoc populus fapiens et justus in uno,
*Te noftris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo,
Juft in one instance, be it yet confest
Your People, Sir, are partial in the reft:
Foes to all living worth except your own,
And Advocates for folly dead and gone.
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old; 35
It is the ruft we value, not the gold.
1 Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote,
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote:
One likes no language but the Faery Queen;
A Scot will fight for Chrift's Kirk o' the Green :
And each true Briton is to Ben fo civil,
m He fwears the Muses met him at the Devil.
Though justly n Greece her eldest fons admires,
Why should not we be wiser than our fires?
Caetera nequaquam fimili ratione modoque
Aestimat; et, nifi quae terris femota suisque
Temporibus defuncta videt, faftidit et odit:
1 Sic fautor veterum, et tabulas peccare vetantes
Quas bis quinque viri fanxerunt, foedera regum,
Vel Gabiis vel cum rigidis aequata Sabinis,
Pontificum libros, annofa volumina Vatum,
m Dictitet Albano Mufas in monte locutas.
Si, quia Graiorum funt antiquiffima quaeque Scripta vel optima, Romani penfantur eadem Scriptores trutina; non eft quod multa loquamur : Nil intra eft oleam, nil extra eft in nuce duri. Venimus ad fummum fortunae: pingimus, atque
In every Public Virtue we excell;
We build, we paint, we fing, we dance as well,
And P learned Athens to our art muft stoop,
Could fhe behold us tumbling through a hoop.
If Time improve our Wits as well as Wine,
Say at what age a Poet grows divine?
Shall we, or fhall we not, account him fo,
Who dy'd, perhaps, an hundred years ago?
End all difpute; and fix the year precise
When British bards begin t' immortalize?
"Who lafts a' century can have no flaw, "I hold that Wit a Claffic, good in law."
Suppose he wants a year, will you compound?
And shall we deem him s Ancient, right and found,
Or damn to all eternity at once,
At ninety-nine, a Modern and a Dunce?
"We shall not quarrel for a year or two;
"By courtesy of England, he may do."
Pfallimus, et p luctamur Achivis doctius unctis.
Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit;
Scire velim, chartis pretium quotus arroget annus.
Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter
Perfectos veterefque referri debet, an inter
Viles atque novos ? excludat jurgia finis.
Eft vetus atque probus. centum qui perficit annos.
Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense vel anno,
Inter quos referendus erit? s veterefne poetas,
An quos et praefens et poftera respuat aetas ?
Ifte quidem veteres inter ponetur honeste.
Then, by the rule that made the " Horse-tail bare, I pluck out year by year, as hair by hair,
And melt w down Ancients like a heap of fnow:
While you, to measure merits, look in × Stowe,
And, eftimating authors by the year,
Beftow a Garland only on a Bier.
z Shakespeare (whom you and every Playhouse bill Style the divine, the matchlefs, what you will) For gain, not glory, wing'd his roving flight, And grew Immortal in his own despight. Ben, old and poor, as little feem'd to heed a 'The Life to come, in every Poet's Creed. Who now reads b Cowley? if he pleases yet, His Moral pleafes, not his pointed wit; Forgot his Epic, nay Pindaric Art, But still I love the language of his heart.
"Yet furely, d furely, these were famous men ! "What boy but hears the fayings of old Ben?
Qui vel menfe brevi, vel toto eft junior anno.
Utor permiffo, caudaeque pilos ut " equinae Paulatim vello: et demo unum, demo et item unum; Dum cadat elufus ratione w ruentis acervi, Qui redit in x fastos, et virtutem aeftimat annis, Miraturque nihil, nifi quod y Libitina facravit.
z Ennius et fapiens, et fortis, et alter Homerus, Ut critici dicunt, leviter curare videtur Quo a promiffa cadant, et somnia Pythagorea. b Naevius in manibus non eft; atc mentibus haeret Pene recens : dadeo fan&tum eft vetus omne poema.
"In all debates where Critics bear a part,
"Not one but nods, and talks of Jonfon's Art,
"Of Shakespeare's Nature, and of Cowley's Wit; "How Beaumont's judgment check'd what Fletcher
"How Shadwell hafty, Wycherly was flow;
"But, for the Paffions, Southerne fure and Rowe.
"Thefe, f only thefe, fupport the crowded stage,
"From eldest Heywood down to Cibber's age."
All this may be; the people's Voice is odd,
It is, and it is not, the voice of God.
Toh Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny the Careless Husband praise,
Or fay our Fathers never broke a rule;
Why then, I fay, the Public is a fool.
But let them own, that greater Faults than we
They had, and greater Virtues, I'll agree,
Ambigitur quoties, uter utro fit prior; aufert
Pacuvius docti famam fenis, Accius alti:
Dicitur Afranî toga conveniffe Menandro:
Plautus ad exemplar Siculi properare Epicharmi
Vincere Caecilius gravitate, Terentius arte:
Hos edifcit, et hos arcto stipata theatro
Spectat Roma potens ; f habet hos numeratque poetas
Ad noftrum tempus, Livî fcriptoris ab aevo.
g Interdum vulgus rectum videt: eft ubi peccat.
Sib veteres ita miratur laudatque poetas,
Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat:
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