Or when from Court a birth-day suit bestow'd,
Sinks them loft Actor in the tawdry load.
Booth enters-hark! the univerfal peal!
"But has he spoken ?" Not a fyllable.
What shook the stage, and made the people stare?
" Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacquer'd chair.
Yet, left you think I railly more than teach,
Or praise malignly Arts I cannot reach,
Let me for once prefume t' inftruct the times,
To know the Poet from the man of rhymes :
'Tis he who gives my breast a thousand pains,
Can make me feel each Paffion that he feigns;
Inrage, compofe, with more than magic Art,
With pity, and with terror, tear my heart;
And fnatch me, o'er the earth, or through the air,
To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.
P But not this part of the Poetic state
Alone, deferves the favour of the Great:
Cum ftetit in fcena, concurrit dextera laevae.
Dixit adhuc aliquid? nil fane. Quid placet ergo?
n Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno.
Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipfe recufem,
Cum recte tractent alii, laudare maligne;
Ille per extentum funem mihi poffe videtur
Ire poeta ;
• meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
Irritat, mulcet, falfis terroribus implet,
Ut magnus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis. ▸ Verum age, et his, qui fe lectori credere malunt, Quam fpectatoris faftidia ferre fuperbi,
Think of thofe Authors, Sir, who would rely
More on a Reader's fenfe, than Gazer's eye.
Or who fhall wander where the Mufes fing?
Who climb their mountain, or who tafte their spring?
How fhall we fill 9 a Library with Wit,
When Merlin's Cave is half unfurnish'd yet?
My Liege! why Writers little claim your thought,
I guefs; and, with their leave, will tell the fault:
We Poets are (upon a Poet's word)
Of all mankind, the creatures most abfurd:
The feafon, when to come, and when to go,
To fing, or cease to fing, we never know;
And if we will recite nine hours in ten,
You lofe your patience just like other men.
Then too we hurt ourselves, when, to defend
A single verse, we quarrel with a friend;
Repeat" unask'd; w lament, the Wit's too fine
For vulgar eyes, and point out every line;
But moft, when, ftraining with too weak a wing,
We needs will write Epiftles to the King;
Curam impende brevem: fi a munus Apolline dignum
Vis complere libris; et vatibus addere calcar,
Ut ftudio majore petant Helicona virentem.
• Multa quidem nobis facimus mala faepe poetae, (Ut vineta egomet caedam mea) cum tibi librum • Solicito damus, aut feffo: cum laedimur, t unum Si quis amicorum eft aufus reprendere versum : Cum loca jam " recitata revolvimus irrevocati: Cum lamentamur non apparere labores
And x from the moment we oblige the town,
Expect a place, or Penfion from the Crown;
Or, dubb'd Hiftorians by exprefs command,
T'enroll your triumphs o'er the seas and land,
Be call'd to Court to plan fome work divine,
As once for LOUIS, Boileau and Racine.
Yet think, great Sir! (fo many Virtues fhown)
Ah think, what Poet best may make them known?
Or chufe at least fome Minister of Grace,
Fit to bestow the Laureat's weighty place.
a Charles, to late times to be tranfmitted fair, Affign'd his figure to Bernini's care;
Noftros, et tenui deducta poemata filo;
Cum x fperamus eo rem venturam, ut, fimul atque
Carmina refcieris nos fingere, commodus ultro
Arceffas, et egere vetes, et fcribere cogas.
Sed tamen eft y operae pretium cognofcere, quales
Aedituos habeat belli fpectata domique
Virtus, z indigno non committenda poetae.
a Gratus Alexandro regi Magno fuit ille Choerilus, incultis qui verfibus et male natis Rettulit acceptos, regale numifma, Philippos. Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt Atramenta, fere fcriptores carmine foedo Splendida facta linunt. idem rex ille, poema Qui tam ridiculum tam care prodigus emit, Edicto vetuit, ne quis fe praeter Apellem Pingeret, aut alius Lyfippo duceret aera
And b great Naflau to Kneller's hand decreed
To fix him graceful on the bounding Steed;
So well in paint and tone they judg'd of merit:
But Kings in Wit may want discerning Spirit.
The Hero William, and the Martyr Charles,
One knighted Blackmore, and one penfion'd Quarles;
Which made old Ben and furly Dennis fwear,
"No Lord's anointed, but a Ruffian Bear."
Not with fuch & majefty, fuch bold relief,
The Forms auguft, of King, or conquering Chief,
E'er fwell'd on marble; as in verse have shin'd
(In polish'd verfe) the manners and the Mind.
Oh! could I mount on the Mæonian wing,
Your Arms, your Actions, your Repose to fing! 395
What f feas you travers'd, and what fields you fought!
Your Country's Peace, how oft, how dearly bought!
Fortis b Alexandri vultum fimulantia. quod fi
Judicium fubtile videndis artibus illud
Ad libros et ad haec Mufarum dona vocares;
c Boeotum in craffo jurares aëre natum.
[At neque dedecorant tua de fe judicia, atque Munera quae multa dantis cum laude tulerunt, Dilecti tibi Virgilius Variufque poetae ;]
Nec magis expreffi d vultus per ahenea figna, Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum Clarorum apparent. nec fermones ego mallem Repentes per humum, e quam res componere geftas, Terrarumque f fitus et flumina dicere, et arces
How & barbarous rage fubfided at your word,
And Nations wonder'd while they dropp'd the fword!
How, when you nodded, o'er the land and deep, 400
h Peace ftole her wing, and wrapt the world in sleep;
Till earth's extremes your mediation own,
And i Afia's Tyrants tremble at your Throne-
But Verfe, alas! your Majefty difdains;
And I'm not us'd to Panegyric strains :
The Zeal of Fools offends at any time,
But most of all, the Zeal of Fools in rhyme.
Befides, a fate attends on all I write,
That when I aim at praife, they say in I bite.
A vile Encomium doubly ridicules:
There's nothing blackens like the ink of fools.
If true, a woful likeness; and if lyes,
"Praise undeferv'd is fcandal in disguise :"
Montibus impofitas, et & barbara regna, tuisque
Aufpiciis totum ʼn confecta duella per orbem, ·
Clauftraque cuftodem pacis cohibentia Janum,
Et i formidatam Parthis, te principe, Romam :
Si quantum cuperem, poffem quoque. fed neque parvum
k Carmen majeftas recipit tua; nec meus audet
Rem tentare pudor, quam vires ferre recufent.
Sedulitas autem 1 ftulte, quem diligit, urget;
Praecipue cum fe numeris commendat et arte.
Difcit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud
Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur.
Nil moror" officium, quod me gravat: ac neque ficto
In pejus vultu proponi cereus ufquam,
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