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And He, who now to fenfe, now nonfenfe leaning,
Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
And He, whofe fuftian's fo fublimely bad,
It is not Poetry, but profe run mad:
All these, my modest Satire bad translate,

And own'd that nine fuch Poets made a Tate.

190

How did they fume, and ftamp, and roar, and chafe! And fwear, not ADDISON himself was safe.

195

Peace to all fuch! but were there One whose fires True Genius kindles, and fair Fame inspires; Bleft with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should fuch a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with fcornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rife;

200

VER. 186. Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:] A eafe common both to Poets and Critics of a certain order; only with this difference, that the Poet writes himself out of his own meaning; and the Critic never gets into another man's. Yet both keep going on, and blundering round about their subject, as benighted people are wont to do, who feek for an entrance which they cannot find.

› VER. 189. All these, my modest Satire bad translate,] See their works, in the Tranflations of claffical books by feveral hands.

VER. 190.-nine fuch Poets, &c.] Alluding, not to the nine Mufes, but to nine Taylors.

VER. 192. And fwear, not ADDISON himself was fafe.] This is an artful preparative for the following tranfition; and finely obviates what might be thought unfavourably of the feverity of the fatire, by thofe who were strangers to the provocation.

Damn with faint praise, afsent with civil leer,
And without fneering, teach the reft to fneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Juft hint a fault, and hesitate diflike;
Alike referv'd to blame, or to commend,
A tim'rous foe, and a fufpicious friend;
Dreading ev'n fools, by Flatterers befieg'd,
And fo obliging, that he ne'er oblig'd;
Like Cato, give his little Senate laws,
And fit attentive to his own applause;
While Wits and Templars ev'ry sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praife-
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ?
Who would not weep, if ATTICUS were he!

VARIATIONS.

After VER. 28. in MS.

Who, if two Wits on rival themes conteft,
Approves of each, but likes the worft the beft.

205

210

Alluding to Mr. P.'s and Tickell's Translation of the firft Book of the Iliad.

VER. 212. And wonder with a foolish face of praise-] When men, out of flattery, extol what they are confcious they do not understand, as is fometimes the cafe of men of education, the fear of praifing in the wrong place is likely enough to give a foolish turn to the air of an embarraffed countenance.

VER. 213. Who but muft laugh, if fuch a man there be?] While a Character is unapplied, all the various parts of it will be confidered together; and if the affemblage of them be as incoherent as in this before us, it cannot fail of being the object of a malignant pleasantry.

VER. 214. Who would not weep, if ATTICUS were be!] But

What tho' my name stood rubric on the walls, 215 Or plaister'd pofts, with claps, in capitals? Or fmoaking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying all abroad? I fought no homage from the Race that write; I kept, like Afan Monarchs, from their fight: 220 Poems I heeded (now be-rym'd so long)

No more than thou, great GEORGE! a birth-day fong.
I ne'er with wits or witlings pafs'd my days,

To fpread about the itch of verfe and praise;
Nor like a puppy, daggled thro' the town,
To fetch and carry fing-fong up and down;
Nor at Rehearsals fweat, and mouth'd, and cry'd,
With handkerchief and orange at my side;

But fick of fops, and poetry, and prate,

225

To Bufo left the whole Caftalian state.

230

when we come to know it belongs to Atticus, i, e. to one whose more obvious qualities had before gained our love or esteem; then friendship, in spite of ridicule, will make a feparation : our old impreffions get the better of our new, or, at least, fuffer themselves to be no further impaired than by the admission of a mixture of pity and concern.

Ibid. ATTICUS] It was a great falfhood, which fome of the Libels reported, that this Character was written after the Gentleman's death; which fee refuted in the Teftimonies prefixed to the Dunciad. But the occafion of writing it was fuch as he would not make public out of regard to his memory: and all that could further be done was to omit the name, in the Edition of his works.

VER. 218. On wings of winds came flying all abroad?] Hop

Proud as Apollo on his forked hill,
Sate full-blown Bufo, puff'd by ev'ry quill;
Fed with foft Dedication all day long,
Horace and he went hand in hand in fong.
His Library, (where bufts of Poets dead
And a true Pindar stood without a head)
Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race,
Who firft his judgment afk'd, and then a place:
Much they extoll'd his pictures, much his feat,
And flatter'd ev'ry day, and some days eat:
Till grown more frugal in his riper days,

235

240

He paid fome bards with port, and fome with praife,
To fome a dry rehearsal was affign'd,

And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh,
Dryden alone efcap'd this judging eye:

But ftill the Great have kindness in reserve,
He help'd to bury whom he help'd to ftarve.

245

VARIATIONS,

After VIR. 234. in the MS.

To Bards reciting he vouchsaf'd a nod,

And fnuff'd their incenfe like a gracious god.

VER. 236.-a true Pindar flood without a bead] Ridicules the affectation of Antiquaries, who frequently exhibit the headless Trunks and Terms of Statues, for Plato, Homer, Pindar, &c. Vide Fulv. Urfin. &c.

P.

VER. 248.-belp'd to bury] Mr. Dryden, after having liv'd in exigencies, had a magnificent Funeral bestowed upon him by the contribution of feveral perfons of quality,

P.

May fome choice patron bless each gray goofe quill! May ev'ry Bavius have his Bufo still! 250 So when a Statesman wants a day's defence, Or Envy holds a whole week's war with Sense, Or fimple pride for flatt'ry makes demands, May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands! Bleft be the Great! for those they take away, And those they left me; for they left me GAY; Left me to fee neglected Genius bloom, Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb :

Of all thy blameless life the fole return

255

My Verfe, and QUEENSB'RY Weeping o'er thy urn! 250
Oh let me live my own, and die fo too!
(To live and die is all I have to do:)
Maintain a Poet's dignity and ease,

And see what friends, and read what books I please:
Above a Patron, tho' I condefcend

Sometimes to call a Minister my friend.

I was not born for Courts or great affairs;
I pay my debts, believe, and say my pray'rs ;

265

VER. 251. So when a Statesman &c.] Notwithstanding this ridicule on the public neceffities of the Great, our Poet was can did enough to confess that they are not always to be imputed to them, as their private may. For (when uninfected by the neighbourhood of Party) he fpeaks of those diftreffes much more dif paffionately.

Our Minifters like Gladiators live,

'Tis half their bus'nefs blows to ward, or give;
The good their Virtue would effect, or Senfe,

Dies between Exigents and Self-defence,

MS.

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