Call Tibbald Shakespeare, and he'll swear the Nine,
Dear Cibber! never match'd one ode of thine.
Lord! how we strut thro' Merlin's cave, to see
No poets there but Stephen, you, and me.
Walk with respect behind, while we at ease Weave laurel crowns, and take what names we please. "My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do,
"Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you ;
"Or, I'm content, allow me Dryden's strains,
"And you shall rise up Otway for your pains."
Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace
This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming, race;
And much must flatter, if the whim should bite,
To court applause by printing what I write.
But let the fit pass o'er; I'm wise enough
To stop my ears to their confounded stuff.
Cælatumque novem Musis opus. aspice primum,
Quanto cum fastu, quanto molimine circum.
Spectemus vacuam Romanis vatibus ædem.
Mox etiam (si forte vacas) sequere; et procul audi,
Quid ferat, et quare sibi nectat uterque coronam.
Cædimur, et totidem plagis consumimus hostem,
Lento Samnites ad lumina prima duello.
Discedo Alcæus puncto illius; ille meo quis?
Quis, nisi Callimachus? si plus adposcere visus;
Fit Mimnermus, et optivo cognomine crescit,
Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum,
Cum scribo, et supplex populi suffragia capto:
Idem, finitis studiis, et mente recepta,
In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject:
They treat themselves with most profound respect.
'Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue, 155
Each prais'd within is happy all day long.
But how severely with themselves proceed
The men, who write such verse as we can read?
Their own strict judges, not a word they spare
That wants of force, or light, or weight, or care, 160
Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place,
Nay, tho' at court (perhaps) it may find grace:
Such they'll degrade; and, sometimes in its stead,
2 In downright charity revive the dead;
Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears,
Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred years;
Command old words, that long have slept, to wake,
Words that wise Bacon, or brave Rawleigh, spake;
Obturem patulas impune legentibus aures.
1 Ridentur mala qui componunt carmina; verum Gaudent scribentes, et se venerantur, et ultro, Si taceas, laudant quidquid scripsere, beati. At qui legitimum cupiet fecisse poema, Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti; Audebit quæcunque parum splendoris habebunt, Et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigna feruntur, Verba movere loco; quamvis invita recedant, Et versentur adhuc intra penetralia Vestæ ; 2Obscurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque Proferet in lucem speciosa vocabula rerum, Quæ pri cis memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis,
Or bid the new be English ages hence,
(For Use will father what's begot by Sense) Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong,
Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue;
Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine,
But show no mercy to an empty line;
Then polish all with so much life and ease
You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please:
"But ease in writing flows from art, not chance,
"As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance."
If such the plague, and pains, to write by rule, 180°
Better (say I) be pleas'd, and play the fool;
Call, if you will, bad rhyming a disease;
It gives men happiness, or leaves them ease.
There liv'd in primo Georgii (they record)
A worthy member, no small fool, a lord;
Nunc situs informis premit et deserta vetustas;
Adsciscet nova, quæ genitor produxerit usus;
Vehemens, et liquidus, puroque simillimus amni,
Fundet opes, Latiumque beabit divite lingua;
Luxuriantia compescet; nimis aspera sano
Levabit cultu; virtute carentia tollet:
Ludentis speciem dabit; et torquebitur, ut qui
Nunc Satyrum, nunc agrestem Cyclopa movetur.
I Prætulerim scriptor delirus inersque videri,
Dum mea delectent mala me, vel denique fallant,
Quam sapere, et ringi. fuit haud ignobilis Argis,
Qui se credebat miros audire tragœdos,
Who, tho' the House was up, delighted sate,
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate;
In all but this a man of sober life,
Fond of his friend, and civil to his wife;
Not quite a madman, tho' a pasty fell,
And much too wise to walk into a well.
Him the damn'd doctors, and his friends, immur'd,
They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in short, they
Whereat the gentleman began to stare--- [cur'd:
"My friends! (he cry'd) p-x take you for your care!
That from a patriot of distinguish'd note
Have bled and purg'd me to a simple vote."
1 Well, on the whole, plain prose must be my fate! Wisdom (curse on it!) will come soon, or late. There is a time when poets will grow dull; I'll ev'n leave verses to the boys at school:
In vacuo lætus sessor plausorque theatro ;
Cætera qui vitæ servaret munia recto
More; bonus sane vicinus, amabilis hospes,
Comis in uxorem, posset qui ignoscere servis,
Et signo læso non insanire lagenæ;
Posset qui rupem, et puteum vitare patentem.
Hic ubi, cognatorum opibus curisque refectus,
Expulit elleboro morbum bilemque meraco,
Et redit ad sese: Pol me occidistis, amici,
Non servastis, ait; cui, sic extorta voluptas,
Et demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error.
Nimirum sapere est abjectis utile nugis,
Et tempestivum pueris concedere ludum;
To rules of poetry no more confin'd,
I'll learn to smooth and harmonize my mind,
Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll,
And keep the equal measure of the soul.
1 Soon as I enter at my country door
My mind resumes the thread it dropp'd before;
Thoughts, which at Hyde-park Corner I forgot,
Meet, and rejoin me, in the pensive grot:
There all alone, and compliments apart,
I ask these sober questions of my heart:
2 If, when the more you drink the more you crave,
You tell the doctor; when the more you have
The more you want, why not, with equal ease,
Confess as well your folly as disease?
The heart resolves this matter in a trice,
"Men only feel the smart, but not the vice."
5 When golden angels cease to cure the evil,
You give all royal witchcraft to the devil:
When servile chaplains cry that birth and place
Endue a peer with honour, truth, and grace,
1 Ac non verba sequi fidibus modulanda Latinis;
Sed veræ numerosque modosque ediscere vitæ.
Quocirca mecum loquor hæc, tacitusque recordor:
2 Si tibi nulla sitim finiret copia lymphæ,
Narrares medicis: quod quanto plura parasti,
Tanto plura cupis, nulline faterier audes?
3 Si vulnus tibi monstrata radice vel herba
Non fieret lævius, fugeres radice vel herba
Proficiente nihil curarier: audieras, cui
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