If human woes her soft attention claim, Along the nerves of every feeling line. But if a deed not tamely to be borne Fire indignation and a sense of scorn, 485 The strings are swept with such a pow'r so loud, 490 The storm of musick shakes th' astonish'd crowd. So, when remote futurity is brought Before the keen inquiry of her thought, A terrible sagacity informs The poet's heart; he looks to distant storms; 495 He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs; And, arm'd with strength surpassing human pow'rs, And darts his soul into the dawning plan. Hence in a Roman mouth, the grace .ul name 500 Of prophet and of poet was the same; Hence, British poets, too, the priesthood shar'd, But no prophetick fires to me belong; I play with syllables, and sport in song. 505 A. At Westminster, where little poets strive To set a distich upon six and five, Where Discipline helps th' op'ning buds of sense, And makes his pupils proud with silver pence, 510 I was a poet too: but modern taste Is so refin'd, and delicate, and chaste, And thinking I might purchase it too dear, 515 And truth cut short to make a period round, I judg'd a man of sense could scarce do worse, B. Thus reputation is a spur to wit, 520 Give me the line thai ploughs its stately course When Labour and when Dulness club in hand, But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me. All birks and braes, though he was never there; 525 530 535 540 To dally much with subjects mean and low Proves that the mind is weak, or makes it so. 545 And ev'ry effort ends in pushpin play. The man that means success should soar above A soldier's feather, or a lady's glove; Else, summoning the muse to such a theme, 550 The fruit of all her labour is whipp'd cream, As if an eagle flew aloft, and then- Stoop'd from its highest pitch to pounce a wren. As if the poet, purposing to wed, Should carve himself a wife in gingerbread. 555 Ages elaps'd ere Homer's lamp appear'd, And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard, To carry Nature's lengths unknown before, To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more. VOL. I. 3 Thus Genius rose and set at order'd times, Ard, tedious years of Gothick darkness pass'd, 560 565 570 Or candidly confess yourself a dunce. B. These were the chief: each interval of night Was grac'd with many an undulating light. A meteor or a star; in these the sun. 575 The nightingale may claim the topmost bough, Spread little wings, and rather skip than fly; 580 Or oaken fence that hems the paddock round. Had faded, poetry was not an art: 535 Language above all teaching, or, if taught, Only by gratitude and glowing thought, Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy, unmanacled by form, Not prompted, as in our degen'rate days, 590 By low ambition and the thirst of praise, Was natural as is the flowing stream, And yet magnificent-A God the theme! That theme on Earth exhausted, though above 'Tis found as everlasting as his love, 595 Man lavish'd all his thoughts on human things'The feats of heroes, and the wrath of kings; But still, while virtue kindled his delight, The song was moral, and so far was right. Twas thus till Luxury seduc'd the mind 600 To joys less innocent,, as less refin'd; Then Genius danc'd a bacchanal; he crown'd The brimming goblet, seiz'd the thyrsus, bound 605 His brows with ivy, rush'd into the field And, dizzy with delight, profan'd the sacred wires. 611 When Cromwell fought for pow'r, and while he reign'd Parent of inanners like herself severe, Drew a rough copy of the Christian face, Without the smile, the sweetness, or the grace; 615 The dark and sullen humour of the time Judg'd ev'ry effort of the muse a crime; Verse, in the finest mould of fancy cast, Was lumber in an age so void of taste: But when the second Charles assum'd the sway, 620 And arts reviv'd beneath a softer day, The mind, releas'd from too constrain'd a nerve, That made the vaulted roofs of Pleasure ring. 625 His court, the dissolute and hateful school Of Wantonness, where vice was taught by rule, Swarm'd with a scribbling herd, as deep inlaid From these a long succession, in a rage 630 Of rank obscenity debauch'd their age: Nor ceas'd till ever anxious to redress The abuses of her sacred charge, the press, The muse instructed a well-nurtur'd train Of abler votaries to cleanse the stain, 635 And claim the palm for purity of song, In him In front of these came Addison. 640 645 In verse well disciplin'd, complete, compact, That quite eclipsing Pleasure's painted face, Levied a tax of wonder and applause, 650 E'en on the fools that trampled on their laws. But he, (his musical finesse was such, So nice his ear, so delicate his touch,) 655 A. Are we then left--B. Not wholly in the dark; Wit now and then, struck smartly. shows a spark, 665 670 Short his career, indeed, but ably run; |