OF VERBAL CRITICISM.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE ft AND 2d EDITIONS.

AS the defign of the following poem is to rally the abufe of Verbal Criticism, the author could not, without manifeft partiality, overlook the Editor of Milton, and the Reftorer of Shakespeare. With regard to the latter, he has read over the many and ample specimens with which that Scholiaft has already obliged the publick and of thefe, and thefe only, he pretends to give his opinion. But, whatever he may think of the Critic, not bearing the leaft ill-will to the Man, he deferred printing these verfes, though written feveral months ago, till he heard that the subscription for a new edition of Shakespeare was closed. He begs leave to add likewife, that this poem was undertaken and written entirely without the knowledge. of the Gentleman to whom it is addreffed. Only as it is a public teftimony of his inviolable efteem for Mr. Pope, on that account, particularly, he wishes, it may not be judged to increase the number of mean performances, with which the town is almost daily pestered.

A

MONG the numerous fools, by fate defign'd
Oft to disturb, and oft divert, mankind,

The Reading Coxcomb is of fpecial note,

By rule a Poet, and a Judge by rote:

Grave son of idle Industry and Pride,

Whom learning but perverts, and books mifguide.
O fam'd for judging, as for writing well,
That rareft fcience, where fo few excel;

Whole

Whose life, severely scann'd, transcends thy lays,
For wit fupreme is but thy fecond praise :

'Tis thine, O Pope, who chufe the better part,
To tell how false, how vain, the Scholiaft's art,
Which nor to taste, nor genius has pretence,
And, if 'tis learning, is not common sense.

In error obftinate, in wrangling loud,
For trifles eager, pofitive, and proud;
Deep in the darkness of dull authors bred,
With all their refuse lumber'd in his head,
What every dunce from every dunghill drew-
Of literary offals, old or new,

Forth steps at laft the felf-applauding wight,
Of points and letters, chaff and ftraws, to write:
Sagely refolv'd to fwell each bulky piece
With venerable toys, from Rome and Greece;
How oft, in Homer, Paris curl'd his hair;.
If Ariftotle's cap were round or square ;
If in the cave, were Dido first was sped,
To Tyre fhe turn'd her heels, to Troy her head.
Such the choice anecdotes, profound and vain,
That ftore a Bentley's and a Burman's brain :
Hence, Plato quoted, or the Stagyrite,

To prove that flame afcends, and fnow is white :
Hence, much hard ftudy, without fenfe or breeding,
And all the grave impertinence of reading.

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If Shakespeare fays, the noon-day fun is bright, 35
His Scholiaft will remark, it then was light;
Turn Caxton, Winkin, each old Goth and Hun,
To rectify the reading of a pun.

Thus

Thus, nicely trifling, accurately dull,

How one may toil, and toil-to be a fool!

40

But is there then no honour due to age?

Ne reverence to great Shakespeare's noble page?
And he, who half a life has read him o'er,
His mangled points and commas to restore,
Meets he fuch flight regard in nameless lays,
Whom Bufo treats, and Lady Woud-be pays?

Pride of his own, and wonder of this age,
Who first created, and yet rules, the stage,
Bold to defign, all-powerful to exprefs,
Shakespeare each paffion drew in every dress:
Great above rule, and imitating none;

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50

Rich without borrowing, Nature was his own.
Yet is his fenfe debas'd by grofs allay:

As gold in mines lics mix'd with dirt and clay.

Now, eagle-wing'd, his heavenward flight he takes ;
The big stage thunders, and the foul awakes:
Now, low on earth, a kindred reptile creeps ;
Sad Hamlet quibbles, and the hearer fleeps.

Such was the Poet: next the Scholiaft view;
Faint though the colouring, yet the features true.
Condemn'd to dig and dung a barren foil,
Where hardly tares will grow with care and toil,
He, with low induftry, goes gleaning on

From good, from bad, from mean, neglecting none :
His brother book-worm fo, in shelf or stall,
Will feed alike on Woolfton and on Paul.
By living clients hopeless now of bread,
He pettyfogs a scrap from authors dead :

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65

See him on Shakespeare pore, intent to steal
Poor farce, by fragments, for a third-day meal.
Such that grave bird in northern feas is found,
Whose name a Dutchman only knows to found.
Where-e'er the king of fish moves on before,
This humble friend attends from fhore to fhore:
With eye ftill earnest, and with bill inclin'd,
He picks up what his patron drops behind;
With thofe choice cates his palate to regale,
And is the careful Tibbald of a whale.

Bleft genius! who bestows his oil and pains
On each dull paffage, each dull book contains;
The toil more grateful, as the task more low:
So carrion is the quarry of a crow.
Where his fam'd author's page is flat and poor,
There, moft exact the reading to restore;
By dint of plodding, and by sweat of face,
A bull to change, a blunder to replace :
Whate'er is refufe critically gleaning,

And mending nonfenfe into doubtful meaning.

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85

For

V.78.This remarkable bird is called the Strundt-Jager. Here you fee how he purchases his food: and the fame author, from whom this account is taken, tells us farther how he comes by his drink. You may fee him, adds the Dutchman, frequently pursuing a fort of feamew, called Kulge-Gehef, whom he torments incefantly to make him void an excrement; which being liquid, ferves him, I imagine, for drink. See a Collection of Voyages to the North.

90

For this, dread Dennis (* and who can forbear,
Dunce or not Dunce, relating it, to stare?)
His head though jealous, and his years fourfcore,
Ev'n Dennis praises, who ne'er prais'd before!
For this, the Scholiaft claims his fhare of fame,
And, modeft, prints his own with Shakespeare's name:
How justly, Pope, in this short story view;
Which may be dull, and therefore should be true.

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100

A Prelate, fam'd for clearing each dark text, Who fenfe with found, and truth with rhetoric mixt, Once, as his moving theme to rapture warm'd, Infpir'd himself, his happy hearers charm'd. The fermon o'er, the croud remain'd behind, And freely, man or woman, spoke their mind : All faid they lik'd the lecture from their foul, And each, remembering fomething, prais'd the whole. At laft an honeft fexton join'd the throng

105

(For as the theme was large, their talk was long);
Neighbours, he cry'd, my confcience bids me tell,
Though 'twas the Doctor preach'd,-I toll'd the bell..
In this the Critic's folly moft is shown:

Is there a Genius all-unlike his own,
With learning elegant, with wit well bred,
And, as in books, in men and manners read;

Himself with poring erudition blind,

Unknowing, as unknown, of human kind;

V. 89.

M 2

Quis talia fando

110

That

Myrmidonum, Dolopumve," &c.-VIRG.

V. 92. See the Dedication of his Remarks on the

Dunciad to Mr. Lewis Theobald.