imagined, been some Time in Poffeffion of; and as yet nothing appear'd to the contrary. By this Time Mr. Pope was got fo far into Favour and Reputation with the Town, that he needed little Recommendation but his own Merit; and he began (as he in Reafon might) to affume the Name of a Critick, and to give Rules to others in his Effay on Criticism, which is full of Wit, beautiful Turns, Variety of Metaphors, and Obfervations on Poetry and Criticifm: A few Extracts will serve to give the Reader a pleafing Idea of the whole.

First follow Nature, and your Judgment frame By her juft Standard, which is ftill the fame: Unerring Nature, ftill divinely bright,

One clear, unchang'd, and univerfal Light,
Life, Force, and Beauty, muft to all impart,
At once the Source, and End, and Teft of Art.
That Art is beft which most resembles her;
Which still prefides, yet never does appear:
In fome fair Body thus the sprightly Soul
With Spirits feeds, with Vigour fills the whole,
Each Motion guides, and ev'ry Nerve sustains;
It self unseen, but in th' Effects, remains,

There are whomHeav'n has bleft with Store of Wit,
Yet want as much again to manage it :
For Wit and Judgment ever are at Strife,

Tho' meant each other's Aid, like Man and Wife.
'Tis more to guide, than fpur, the Mufe's Steed,
Restrain his Fury, than provoke his Speed,
The winged Courfer, like a gen'rous Horse,
Shews moft true Mettle when you check his Course.
A perfect Judge will read each Work of Wit
With the fame Spirit that its Author writ;
Survey the Whole, nor feek flight Faults to find,
Where Nature moves,and Rapture warms the Mind;

No

Nor lofe, for that malignant dull Delight,
The gen'rous Pleafure 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 Tenour keep;
We cannot blame indeed-but we may fleep.
In Wit, as Nature, what affects our Hearts
Is not th' Exactness of peculiar Parts;
'Tis not a Lip, or Eye, we Beauty call,
But the joint Force and full Result of all.
Thus when we view fome well proportion'd Dome,
(The World's juft Wonder, and ev'n thine, O
No fingle Parts unequally furprize; [Rome!)

All comes united to th' admiring Eyes;

No monftrous Height, or Breadth, or Length appear;

The Whole at once is bold, and regular.

Avoid Extreams; and fhun the Fault of fuch,

Who ftill are pleas'd too little, or too much.
At ev'ry Trifle scorn to take Offence,
That always fhows great Pride, or little Sense.
Those Heads, or Stomachs, are not fure the best,
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digeft.
Yet let not each gay Turn thy Rapture move,
For Fools admire, but Men of Sense approve;
As Things feem large which we thro' Mifts deféry,
Dulness is ever apt to magnify.

Be thou the firft true Merit to befriend,

His Praise is loft, who ftays 'till all commend.
Short is the Date, alas! of modern Rhymes;
And 'tis but just to let them live betimes.
No longer now that Golden Age appears,
When Patriarch Wits furviv'd a thoufand Years;
Now Length of Fame (our fecond Life) is loft,
And bare Threefcore is all evʼn that can boast :
Our Sons their Father's failing Language fee,
And fuch as Chaucer is fhall Dryden be.

VOL. I.

F

So

So when the faithful Pencil has defign'd
Some fair Idea of the Mafter's Mind,
Where a new World leaps out at his Command,
And ready Nature waits upon his Hand;
When the ripe Colours foften and unite,
And fweetly melt into juft Shade and Light,
When mellowing Time does full Perfection give,
And each bold Figure just begins to live;
The treach'rous Colours in few Years decay,
And all the bright Creation fades away!

Be Niggards of Advice on no Pretence;
For the worst Avarice is that of Senfe.

With mean Complacence ne'er betray your Truff, Nor be fo civil as to prove unjuft:

Fear not the Anger of the Wife to raise

;

Those beft can bear Reproof, who merit Praise.
Such was Rofcommon-not more learn'd than good,
With Manners gen'rous as his noble Blood;
To him the Wit of Greece and Rome was known,
And ev'ry Author's Merit, but his own. [Friend,
Such late was (*) Walsh,the Mufes Judge and
Who justly knew to blame or to commend;
To Failings mild, but zealous for Desert;
The clearest Head, and the fincereft Heart.
This humble Praise, lamented Shade! receive,
This Praise at least a grateful Muse may give!
The Mufe, whofe early Voice you taught to fing,
Prescrib'd her Heights, and prun'd her tender Wing,
(Her Guide now loft) no more attempts to rise,
But in low Numbers fhort Excurfions tries.

Content,

(*) Mr. Walsh, of Abberley in Worcestershire, Gentleman of the Horfe in Queen Anne's Reign, Author of feveral beautiful Pieces in Profe and Verse, and in the Opinion of Mr. Dryden (in his Poftfcript to Virgil) the beft Critick of our Nation in his Time: He died at forty-nine Years old, in the Year 1708.

Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their Wants may
The learn'd reflect on what before they knew. [view,
Careless of Cenfure, nor too fond of Fame,
Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
Averfe alike to flatter, or offend,

Not free from Faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

Not thefe Lines above quoted, and many more as fine, could preferve the Piece from the fevere Cen fure of Mr. Dennis and others; but chiefly Mr. Dennis, often a very good Critick, always an ill-natur'd one: often, through Envy and private Pique, a very malicious and falfe one. And it is afferted, that the faid Mr. John Dennis, on the 27th of March, finding on Mr. Bernard Lintot's Counter a Book called, An Effay on Criticism, then publifh'd, he read a Page or two with much Frowning, 'till coming to these Lines,

Some have at firft for Wits, then Poets paft,

Turn'd Criticks next, and prov'd plain Fools at last. Throwing the Book down, he faid in great Anger, That means me by Gd. In his Reflections on our Author's Efay on Criticifm hear what he says:

"His Precepts are false, or trivial, or both; his "Thoughts are crude and abortive, his Expreffions "abfurd, his Numbers harfh and unmufical, with❝out Cadence or Variety, his Rhymes trivial and "common. Inftead of Majefty, we have fomething

that is very Boyifh; and, inftead of Perfpicuity " and lucid Order, we have but too often Obscurity "and Confufion."

Nay, he seems pofitive in his Triumph over the Poetry in another Place.

"What rare Numbers are here? Would not one fwear this Youngfter had efpoufed fomé antiqua❝ted

F 2

❝ted Muse, who had sued out a Divorce from some "fuperannuated Sinner, upon Account of Impo"tence; and who being pox'd by her former Spouse, "has got the Gout in her decrepid Age, which "makes her bobble fo damnably?"

And presently he leaves the Poem, and falls foul on Mr. Pope's Character with great Virulency and Spite, which (if true) was impoffible to be known to

him.

"A little affected Hypocrite, who has nothing in "his Mouth but Candour, Truth, Friendship, "Good-Nature, Humanity, Aftability, and Mag

nanimity. He is fo great a Lover of Falfehood, "that whenever he has a Mind to calumniate his "Contemporaries, he upbraids them with fome "Defect; which is juft contrary to some good Qua

lity, for which all their Friends and Acquaintance "commend them. He feems to have a particular "Pique to People of Quality, and Authors of that "Rank. He must derive his Religion from St. Q

<mers.

of

He excufes himself a little in the Preface: "I can fafely affirm, that I never attack'd any "these Writings, unless they had Success infinitely "beyond their Merit." So that it was their Succefs gauled him, he imagining it to be infinitely beyond their Merit.

After this we believe no Reader can wonder at what they hereafter may find in the Dunciad, in Re turn to this Ufage of Mr. Dennis, for we think fuch Treatment would juftify any Thing: It is very certain, that Envy and Hate of fuperior Merit blinded Dennis fo, that he always judg'd wrong, or at least, pronounc'd wrong Sentences againft Mr. Pope.

As to his Knowledge of Numbers, and Composition of Verfe, his own fine Rules given show him à

great