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Till the freed Indians in their native groves

Melancholy lifts ber head, Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves; Morpheus ronses from his bed, Peru once more a race of kings behold,

Sloth unfolds ber arms and wakes, And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.

Listening Envy drops her snakes; Exild by thee from Earth to deepest Hell,

Intestine war no more our passions wage, In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell: And giddy factions hear away their rages Gigantic Pride, pale Terrour, gloomy Care,

But when our country's cause provokes to arms, And mad Ambition, shall attend her there :

How martial music every bosom warms! There purple Vengeance bath'd in gore retires,

So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas, Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires :

High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain, There hateful Envy her own spakes shall feel,

While Argo saw her kindred trees And Persecution mourn her broken wheel :

Descend from Pelion to the main. There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,

Transported demi-gods stood round, And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain."

And inea grew heroes at the sound, Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays

Inflam'd with glory's charms: Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:

Each chief his sedentuld shield display'd, The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,

And half unsheath'd the shining blade: And bring the scenes of opening fate to light:

And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,

To arms, to arınš, to arts !
Paints the green forests and the flowery plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olive spring, But when through all th' infernal bounds,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing. Which tlanning Phlegeton surrounds,
Ev’n I more sweetly pass my careless days,

Love, strong as Death, the poets led
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise;

To the pale nations of the dead,
Fnough to me, that to the listening swains What sounds were heard,
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains. What scenes appear'd,

O'er all the dreary coasts!

Dreadful gleams,
Dismal screams,

Fires that glow,

Shrieks of woe,

Sullen moans,

Hollow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
And see! the tortur'd ghosts respire.

See, shady forms advance!

Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,

Ixion rests upon his wheel,

And the pale spectres dance! Descend, ye Nine! descend, and sing;

The Furies sink upon their irou beds, (hoads, The breathing instruments inspire;

And snakes imcurl'd hang listening round thçir Wake into voice each silent string, And sweep the sounding lyre!

By the streams that ever flow, In a sadly-pleasing strain

By the fragrant winds that blow
Let the warbling lute complain:

O'er the oysian Howers;
Let the loud trumpet sound,

By those happy souls who dwell
Till the roofs all around

In yellow meads of asphodel,
The shrill echoes rebound:

Or amaranthine bowers;
While, in more lengthen'd notes and slow,

By the hero's armed shades, The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.

Glittering through the gloomy glades; Hark! the numbers soft and clear

By the youths that dy'd for love, Gently steal upon the ear;

Wandering in the myrtle grove,
Now louder, and yet louder rise,

Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
And fill with spreading sounds the skies; Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,

He sung, and Hell consented
In broken air trembling, the wild music foats;

To hear the poet's prayer;
Till, by degrees, remote and small,

Stern Proserpinc selented,
The strains decay,

And gave him back the fain
And melt away,

Thus Song could prevail
In a dying, dying fall.

O’er Death, and o'er Hell, By Music, minds an equal temper know,

A conquest how hard and how glorious!

Though Fate had fast bound her Nor swell too high, nor sink too low,

With Styx nine times round her, 'If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,

Yet Music and Love were victorious.
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,

But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes:
Exalts her in enlivening airs.

Again she falls, again she dies, she dies! Warriors she fires with animated sounds;

How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? Pours balus into the bleeding lover's wounds; No criine was thine, if 'ris no crime to love.


Now under hanging mountains,

To what aew crime, what distant sky, Beside the falls of fountains,

Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly? Or where Hebrus wanders,

Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore? Rolling in meanders

Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?
All alone,
Uuheard, unknown,

When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
He makes his moan;

When wild Barbarians spurn her dust;
And calls her ghost,

Perhaps er'n Britain's utmost shore For ever, ever, ever lost!

Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore: Now with Furies surrounded,

See Arts her savage sons control, Despairing, confounded,

And Athens rising near the pole! He trembles, he glows,

Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, Amidt Rhodope's snows :

And civil madness tears them from the land. See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;

Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries--

Ye gods! what justice rules the ball !
Ah see, he dies !

Freedom and Arts together fall ;
Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung ;

Frols grant whate'er Ambition craves,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue;

And men, once ignorant are slaves.
Eurydice the woods,

Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,
Eurydice the floods,

In every age, in every state!
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung.

Still, when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, Music the fiercest grief can charm,

Sone Athens perishes, some Tully bleeds.
And Fate's severest rage disarm:
Music can soften pain to ease,

And make despair and madness please :
Our joys below it can improve,

SENICHORUS, And antedate the bliss above.

Qu tyrant Love ! hast thou possest This the divine Cecilia found,

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast ! And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound. Wisdom and Wit in vain reclaim, When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame Th' immortal powers incline their ear;

Love, soft intruder, enters here, Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,

But entering learns to be sincere. While solemn airs improve the sacred fire ;

Marcus with blushes owns he loves, And angels lean from Heaven to hear.

And Brutus tenderly reproves. Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,

Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire, To bright Cecilia greater power is given:

Which Nature has imprest? His numbers rais'd a shade from Hell,

Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire Her's lift the soul to Heaven.

The mild and generous breast;

Love's purer flames the gods approve;

The gods and Brutus bend to Love:

Brutus for absent Porcia sighs,

And sterner Cassius melts at Junia's eyes

What is loose love? a transient gust,
ÁLTERED FROM SHAKESPEARE BY THE DUKE OF Buck- Spent in a sudden storm of lust;

NGHAM, AT WHOSE DESIRE THESE TWO CHORUSES A vapour fed from wild desire,
WERE COMPOSED, TO SUPPLY AS MANY, WANTING A wandering, self-consuming fire.
IN HIS PLAY. THEY WERE SET MANY YEARS AFTER- But Hymen's kinder flames unite,

And burn for ever one;

Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.


Oh source of every social tye,
United wish, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,
Y shades, where sacred truth is gought; As son, as father, brother, husband, friend!
Groves, where immortal sages taught;

Whether his hoary sire he spies, Where heavenly visions Plato fird,

While thousand grateful thoughts arise ; And Epicurus lay inspir'd!

Or meets his spouse's fonder eye; • In vain your guiltless laurels stood

Or views his smiling progeny; Unspotted long with human blood.

What tender passions take their turns, War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,

What home-felt raptures move! And steel now glitiers in the Muses' shades.

His heart now. melts, now leaps, now burns AYTISTROPHE 1.

With reverence, hope and love.
Oh heaven-born sisters! source of art!

Who charm the sense, or mend the heart; Hence, guilty joys, distastes, surmises;
Who lead fair Virtue's train along,

Hence, false tears, deceits, disguises,
Moral truth and mystic song !,

Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes,



Pires that scorch, yet dare not shine:

201.] give rules for the study of the art of criPurest love's upwasting treasure,

ticism; the second (from thence to 'rer. 560.) Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure ;

exposes the causes of wrong judgment; and the Days of ease, and nights of pleasure ;

third [from thence to the end] marks out the Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

morals of the critic. When the reader hath well considered the whole, and hath observed the

regularity of the plan, the masterly conduct of ODE ON SOLITUDE.

the several parts, the penetration into Nature,

and the compass of learning so conspicuous WRITTEX WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS ABOUT TWELVE

throughout, he should then be told, that it was YEARS OLD.

the work of an author' who had not attained the Happy the man, whosa wish and care

twentieth year of his age. A very learned critic A few paternal acres bound,

has shown, that Horace had the same attention Content to breathe his native air,

to method in his Art of Poetry.
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire ;

CONTENTS OF THE ESSAY ON CRITICISM. Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge Hours, days, and years, slide soft away,

ill, as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to In health of body, peace of mind,

to the public, ver. 1. Quiet by day,

That a true taste is as rare to be found as a true Sound sleep by night; study and ease,

genius, ver. 9 to 18. Together mix'd; sweet recreation,

That most men are born with some taste, but And innocence, which most does please

spoiled by false education, ver. 10 to 25. With meditation.

The multitude of critics, and causes of them, ver. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

26 to 45. 'Thus unlamented let me die,

That we are to study our own taste, and know the Steal from the world, and not a stone

limits of it, ver. 46 to 67.
Tell where I lie.

Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87.
Improved by art and rules, which are but me.

thodized nature, ver. 88.

Rules derived from the practice of ancient poets, THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL

ver. 88 to 110. Vital spark of heavenly flame!

That therefore the ancients are necessary to be Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:

studied by a critic, particularly Homer and Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,

Virgil, ver. 120 to 138. On the pain, the bliss of dying !

Of licences, and the use of them by the anCease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,

cients, ver. 140 to 130. And let me languish into life.

Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them,

ver. 181, &c. Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away.

PART 11. Ver. 203, &c. What is this absorbs me quite ?

Causes hindering a true judgment. 1. Pride,

ver. 201. 2. Imperfect learning, ver. 215. Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?

3. Judging by parts, and not by the whole,

ver. 233 to 288. Critics in wit, language, Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

versification, only, 288, 305, 339, &c. 4. The world recedes; it disappears!

Being too hard to please, or too apt to admire, Hearen opens on my eyes! my ears

Ver. 384. 5. Partiality-too much love to a With sounds seraphic ring:

sect,--to the ancients or moderns, ver. 394. Lend, lind your wings! I mount ! I fly!

6. Prejudice or prevention, ver. 409. 7. Sin O Grove! where is thy victory?

gularity, ver. 424. 8. Inconstancy, ver. 430. O Death! where is thy sting?

9. Party spirit, ver. 352, &c.

10. Envy, ver. 466. Against envy, and in praise of good-nature, ver. 508, &c. When severity is

chiefly to be used by the critics, ver. 526, &c. ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

PART III. VER. 560, &c.

Rules for the conduct of manners in a critic.
Si quid novisti rectius istis,

1. Candour, ver. 563. Modesty, ver. 566.

Good-breeding, ver. 572. Sincerity and freeCandidus imperti ; si non, his utere mecum. Hor.

dom of advice, ver. 578. 2. When one's

counsel is to be restrained, ver. 584. CharacThe Poem is in one book, but divided into three t-r of an incorrigible port, ver. 600; and of an principal parts or members. The first (to ver. impertinent critic, ver. 610, &c. Character of

a good critic, ver. 629. · The history of criMr. Pope told me himself, that the Essay on ticism, and characters of the best critics : Criticism was indeed written in 1707, though said Aristotle, ver. 645. Horace, ver. 653. Dio1709 by mistake. J. Richardson.

nysius, ver. 665. Petronius, ver. 667. Quin.




tilian, ver. 670: Longinus, ver. 675. Of the But you, who seek to give and merit fame,
docay of criticism, and its revival. Erasmus, And justly bear a critie's noble name,
ver. 693. Vida, ver. 705. Boileau, ver. 714. Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
Lord Roscoinmon, &c. ver. 725. Conclusion. How far your genius, taste, and learning, go;

Lanch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dullness meet

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,

And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit: ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

As on the land while here the ocean gains, 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill

In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; Appear in writing or in judging ill;

Thus in the soul while memory prerails, But of the two, less dangerous is th' offence

The solid power of understanding fails; To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.

Where beams of warm imagination play, Some few in that, but numbers err in this,

The memory's soft figures melt away. Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;

One science only will

one gepius fit; A fool might once himself alone expose,

So ras, is art, so narrow human wit: Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

Not only bounded to peculiar arts, 'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none

But oft in those confin'd to single parts.

63 Go just alike, yet each believes his own.

Like kings, we lose the conquests gain d before, In poets as true genius is but rare,

By vain ambition still to make them more : Truc taste as seldom is the critic's share ;

Fach Inight his several province well coinmand, Both must alike from Heaven derive their light,

Would all but stoop to what they understand. These bom to judge, as well as those to write. First follow Nature, and your judgment frame Læt such teach others who themselves excel,

By her just standard, which is still the same: And censure freely who have written well:

Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true;

One clear, unchang'd, and universal light, But are not critics to their judgment too?

Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, Yet, if we look more closely, we shall find At once the source, and end, and test of art. Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:

An from that fund each just supply provides; 74 Nature affords at least a glimmering light;

Works without show, and without pomp presides : The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn In some fair body thus th' informing soul But as the htest sketch, if justly trac'd, (right. With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole, Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd,

Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains; So by false learning is good sense defacd: 05

Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains. Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,

Some, to whom Heaven in wit has been profuše, 80 And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.

Want as much more, to turn it to its use; In search of wit these lose their common sense,

For wit and judgment often are at strife, And then turn critics in their own defence: Though meant each other's ait, like man and wife Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write, 30

"Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed; Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.

Restrain his fury, than proroke his speed: All fools have still an itching to deride,

The winged courser, like a generous horse, And fain would be upon the laughing side.

Shows most true mettle when you check his course. If Movius scribble in Apollo's spite,

Those rules of old discover'd, not devis'd, There are who judge still worse than he can write. Are Nature stilt, but Nature methodis'd : Some have at first for wits, then poets past;

Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain'd

90 Turn'd critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last.

By the same laws which first herself ordain'd. Some neither can tor wits nor critics paus,

Hear ho. Icarn'd Greece her useful rules indites, As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

When to repress, and when indulge our flights; Those half-learn’d witlings, numcrous in our isle,

High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd, As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;

And pointed out those arduous paths they trod : Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, Their generation's so equivocal:

And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise. To tell them would a hundred tongues require,

Just precepts thus from great example given, 98 Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.

She drew from them what they deriv'd from Heaven,


Ver. 63, Ed. 1. But cv'n in those, &c. Between ver. 25 and 26 werc thesc lines, since Ver. 74. omitted by the author :

That art is best, which most resembles her; Many are spoil'd by that pedantic throng, Which still presides, yet never does appear. Who with great pains teach youth to rcason

Ver. 76. the secret soul. Tutors, like virtuosos, oft inclin'd (wrong: Ver. 80. By strange transfusion to improve the mind, Tbcrc arc whom Heaven has blest with store of Dran: off the sense we have, to pour in new; Yet want as much again to manage it. (rit,

Wháhyet, with all their skill, they ne'er could do. Ver. 90. Ed. 1. Nature, like Monarchy, &c. Ver. 30, 31. In the first edition thus:

Ver. 92. First learned Greece just precepts did inThose hato as rivals all that write; and others

dite, Bnt envy wits, as eunuchs envy lovers.

When to ripress, and when in:/ulge our fight. Ver 32. * All fools,” in the first edition: "AN | Ver. 98. From great examples useful rues were such," in edition, 1717; šince restored.



The gen'rous critic fann'd the poet's fire,

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, And taught the world with reason to admire. For there's a happiness as well as care. Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd, Music resembles poetry : in each To dress her charms, and make ber more belov'd: Are nameless graces which no methods teach, But following wits from that intention stray'd, 104 And which a master-hand alone can reach.

145 Who could not win the mistress, woo'd the maid; If, where the rules not far enough extend, Against the poets their own arms they turn'd (Since rules were made but to promote their end) Sure to hate most the men froin whom they learn'd. Some lucky license answer to the full So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art

Th'intent propos'd, that license is a rule. By doctors' bills to play the doctor's part,

Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,

May boldly deviate from the common track; Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. From vulgar bounds witli brave disorder part, Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art, Nor time nor moths e'er spoild so much as they : Which, without passing throʻ the judgment, gains Some drily plain, without invention's aid,

The heart, and all its end at once attains. Write dull receipts how poems may be made. In prospects thus, some objects please our eyes, Thiese leave the sense, their learning to display, 116 Which out of Nature's common order rise, And those explain the meaning quite away. The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. 158

You then, whose judgment the right course would Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend, Know well each ancient's proper character: (steer, And rise to faults true critics dare not mend. His fable, subject, scope in every page;

But though the ancients thus their rules invade Religion, country, genius of his age :

(As kings dispense with laws themselves have made) Without all these at once before your eyes,

Moderns, beware! or, if you must offend Cavil yon may, but never criticise.

123 | Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end : Be Homer's works your study and delight,

Let it be seldorn, and compell’d by need; Read them by day, and meditate by night; And have, at least, their precedent to plead. Thence from your judgmeht, thence your maxims The critic else proceeds without remorse, bring,

Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
And trace the Muses upward to their spring : I know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts
Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse; Those freer beauties, evin in them, seem faults.
And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse. Some figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear,

When tirst young Maro, in his boundless inind 130 Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, Which, but proportion'd to their light or place,
Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,

Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw: A prudent chief not always must display
But when t'examine every part he came,

His powers in equal ranks, and fair array, Nature and Horner were, he found, the same. But with th'occasion and the place comply, Convinced, anaz'd, he checks the bold design, 136 Conceal his force, nay sometimes seem to fly. 178 Ar rules as strict his labour'd work contine, Those oft are stratagems which errours seem, As if the Stagirite o'erlook'd each line.

Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. Learn hence før ancient rules a jast esteem;

Still green with bays each ancient altar stands, To copy Nature, is to copy thein.

Above the reach of sacrilegious hands;
Secure from flames, from Envy's fiercer rage,
Destructive War, and all-involving Age. 185

See from each clime the learn'd their incense bring! After ser. 104, this line is omitted :

Hear, in all tongues consenting Paans ring! Stt up themselves, and drove a separate trade. In praise so just let every voice be join'd, Ver. 116. Ed. 1. These lost, &c.

And fill the general chorus of inankind. Ver. 117. And these explain'd, &c.

Hail, bards triumphant! born in happier days; Ver. 123. Ed. 1. You may confonnd, but, &c. Immortal heirs of universal praise' ! Ver. 12:3. Cavil you may, but never criticize.) Whose honours with increase of ages grow, The author after this verse originally inserted the

As streams roll down, enlarging as they How; following, which he has however omitted in all the Nations unborn your mighty naines shall sound, editions ;

And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! Zulas, had these been known, without a naine

O may some spark of your celestial fire,
Had dy'd, and Perault ne'er been damn'd to The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
T'he sense of sound antiquity had reign'd, (fame:
And sacred Homer yet been unprophan'd.
None e'er had thought his comprehensive mind

Ver 145. Ed, 1. And which a master's hand, &c. To inodern custoins, modern rules contin'd,

After ver. 158, the first edition roads, Who for all ages writ, and all mankind,

But care in poetry must still be bad, Ver. 126. Thence forın your judgincnt, thence It asks discretion ev'n in running mad; your notions bring.

And though the ancients, &c. Fer. 130.

And what are now ver. 159, 160, followed ver. 151. When first young Maw sung of kings and wars

Ver. 178. Ed. 1. Fre warning Phæhus touch his trembling ears.

Oft hide his force, nay seein sometimes to fly. Ver. 130. Ed. 1. When first great Maro, &c. Ver. 184. Ed. 1. Destructive War, and all-devour. Ver. 136.

ing Ave. Convinc'd, amaz’d, he check'd the bold design ; Ver. 156. Ed. 1. And did his work to rules as strict coofinc.

Hear, in all longriez applauding Pæans ring!



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