Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve iuftains,
Itfelf unfeen, but in th' effects remains.
Some to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse
Want as much more to turn it to its ufe;
For wit and judgment often are at ftrife,
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide than fpur the Mufes' fteed,
Reftrain his fury than provoke his fpeed:
The winged courfer, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows moft true mettle when you check his course.
Thofe Rules of old, difcover'd, not devis'd,
Are Nature ftill, but Nature methodiz'd:
Nature, like liberty, is but reftrain'd
By the fame laws which firft hertelf ordain'd.
Hear how learn'd Greece her uletul rules indites,
When to reprefs and when ir dulge our flights:
High on Parnaffus' top her fons the thow'd,
And pointed out thofe arduous paths they trod;
Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize,
And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise.
Juft precepts thus from great examples giv'n,
She drew from them what they deriv'd from Heav'n;
The gen'rous critic fann'd the poet's fire,
And taught the world with reafon to admire.
Then Criticifm the Mufe's handmaid prov'd
To drefs her charms, and make her more belov'd;
But following wits from that intention stray'd;
Who could not win the miftrefs woo'd the maid;
Against the poets their own arms they turn'd,
Sure to hate moft the men from whom they learn'd.
So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
By doctors' bills to play the doctor's part,
Bold in the practice of miftaken rules,
Prefcribe, apply, and call their mafters fools.
Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey;
Nor time nor moths e'er ipoil'd fo much as they :
Some dryly plain, without Invention's aid,
Write duil receipts how poems may be made;
These leave the fente their learning to display,
And thofe explain the meaning quite away.
You then whofe judgment the right course would
Know well each Ancient's proper character;
His fable, fubjects, fcope in ev'ry page;
Religion, country, genius of his age:
Without all these at once before your eyes,
Cavil you may, but never criticife.
Be Homer's works your ftudy and delight,
Read them by day, and meditate by night;
Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims
And trace the Mufes upward to their fpring. [bring,
Still with itself compar'd his text peruse;
And let your comment be the Mantuan Mufe.
When first young Maro in his boundless mind
A work t'outlaft immortal Rome design'd,
Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,
And but from Nature's fountains fcorn'd to draw:
But when t' examine ev'ry part he came,
Nature and Homer were, he found, the fame.
Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold defign,
And rules as ftri&t his labour'd work confine
As if the Stagirite o'erlook'd each line.
Learn hence from ancient rules a just esteem;
To copy Nature is to copy them.
Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
For there's a happiness as well as care.
Mufic refembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces, which no methods teach,
And which a master-hand alone can reach.
If, where the rules not far enough extend,
(Since rules were made but to promote their end,)
Such lucky license answer to the full
Th' intent propos'd, that license is a rule.
Thus Pegalus, a nearer way to take,
May boldly deviate from the common track.
Great wits fometimes may gloriously offend,
And rife to faults true critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave diforder part,
And fnatch a grace beyond the reach of art,
Which, without paffing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
In profpects thus fome objects please our eyes,
Which out of Nature's common order rife,
The fhapelefs rock, or hanging precipice.
But tho' the Ancients thus their rules invade,
(As kings difpenfe with laws themielves have made,)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er tranfgrefs its end;
Let it be feldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The critic elfe proceeds without remorse,
Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
I know there are to whofe prefumptucus thoughts
Those freer beauties ev'n in them feem faults.
Some figures monftrous and mif-flap'd appear,
Confider'd fingly or beheld too near,
Which but proportion'd to their light or place,
Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
A prudent chief not always must display
His pow'rs in equal ranks and fair array,
But with th' occafion and the place comply,
Conceal his force, nay feem fometimes to fly.
Thofe oft' are ftratagems which eriors feem;
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Still green with bays each ancient altar ftands
Above the reach of facrilegious hands,
Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage,
Deftructive war, and all-involving age.
See from each clime the learn'd their incenfe bring!
Hear in all tongues confenting peans ring!
In praife fo juft let ev'ry voice be join'd,
And fill the genʼral chorus of mankind.
Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days,
Immortal heirs of univerfal praife!
Whofe honours with increafe of ages grow,
As ftreams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
Nations unborn your mighty name shall found,
And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
O may fome ipark of your celestial fire
The laft, the meaneft, of your fons inspire,
(That on weak wings, from far, purfues your flights,
Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes,)
To teach vain wits a fcience little known,
T'admire fuperior fenfe, and doubt their own!
PART II.
Of all the caufes which confpire to blind Man's erring judgment, and mifguide the mind, What the weak head with ftrongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Whatever Nature has in worth deny'd, She gives in large recruits of needful pride: For as in bodies thus in fouls we find, What wants in blood and fpirits fwell'd with wind: Pride, where wit fails, fteps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of fense: If once right reafon drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with refiftlefs day. Truft not yourself; but, your defects to know, Make ufe of ev'ry friend-and ev'ry foe. A little learning is a dang'rous thing; Drink deep, or tafte not the Pierian fpring: There fhallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely fobers us again. Fir'd at first fight with what the Muse imparts, In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, While from the bounded level of our mind Short views we take, nor fee the lengths behind; But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise, New diftant fcenes of endless science rife! So pleas'd at firft the tow'ring Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and feem to tread the sky! Th' eternal fnows appear already past,' And the firit clouds and mountains feem the last: But thofe attain'd, we tremble to furvey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way; Th' increafing profpect tires our wand'ring eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arife!
A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the fame Ipirit that its author writ;
Survey the whole, nor feek flight faults to find Where Nature moves, and rapture warms the mind; Nor lofe, for that malignant dull delight,
The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.
But in fuch lays as neither ebb nor flow,
Correctly cold, and regularly low,
That fhunning faults one quiet tenor keep,
We cannot blame indeed-but we may fleep.
In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts
Is not th' exactnefs of peculiar parts:
'Tis not a lip nor eye we beauty call,
But the joint force and full refult of all.
Thus when we view fome well-proportion'd dome, (The world's just wonder, and even thine, O Rome!) No fingle parts unequally furprife,
All comes united to th' admiring eyes;
No monftrous height, or breadth, or length, appear;
The whole at once is bold and regular.
Whoever thinks a faultlefs piece to fee,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er fhall be.
In ev'ry work regard the writer's end,
Since none can compass more than they intend;
And if the means be juft, the conduct true,
Applaufe, in fpite of trivial faults, is due.
As men of breeding, fometimes men of wit,
T'avoid great errors, must the lefs commit;
Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,
For not to know fome trifles is a praise.
Moft critics, fond of fome fubfervient art,
Still make the whole depend upon a part:
They talk of principles, but notions prize,
And all to one lov'd tolly facrifice.
Once one a time La Mancha's Knight, they say,
A certain bard encount'ring on the way,
Difcours'd in terms as juft, with looks as fage,
As e'er could Dennis of the Grecian stage,
Concluding all were defp'rate fots and fools
Who durft depart from Ariftotle's rules.
Our author, happy in a judge fo nice,
Produc'd his play, and begg'd the Knight's advice;
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