hanged who would take it away. It was this that made me write. The fenfe of my faults made me correct befides that it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write. At p. 9. 1. 2.-In the first place I own that I have used my beft endeavours to the finishing these pieces. That I made what advantage I could of the judgment of authors dead and living; and that I omitted no means in my power to be informed of my errors by my friends and my enemies: And that I expect no favour on account of my youth, bufinefs, want of health, or any fuch idle excufes. But the true reason they are not yet more correct is owing to the confideration how fhort a time they, and I, have to live. A man that can expect but fixty years may be ashamed to employ thirty in measuring fyllables and bringing fenfe and rhyme together. We spend our youth in purfuit of riches or fame, in hopes to enjoy them when we are old, and when we are old, we find it is too late to enjoy any thing. I therefore hope the Wits will pardon me, if I referve fome of my time to fave my foul; and that fome wife men will be of my opinion, even if I fhould think a part of it better spent in the enjoyments of life than in pleafing the critics. ON MR. POPE AND HIS POEMS, BY HIS GRACE JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. W ITH Age decay'd, with Courts and bus'nefs tir'd, Caring for nothing but what Ease requir'd; Too dully ferious for the Mufe's fport, And from the Critics fafe arriv'd in Port; I little thought of launching forth agen, Amidst advent'rous Rovers of the Pen: And after fo much undeferv'd fuccefs, Thus hazarding at last to make it lefs. Encomiums fuit not this cenforious time, Itself a fubject for fatiric rhyme; Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd, Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd! But to this Genius, join'd with fo much Art, Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part, Poets are bound a loud applaufe to pay; Apollo bids it, and they must obey. And yet fo wonderful, fublime a thing As the great ILIAD, fcarce could make me fing; 10 15 VER. 11.] This is the common-place cant of men tir'd with business and courts. "This is mere moral babble." Comus, p. 806. Except I juftly could at once commend Can all defert in Sciences exceed. "Tis great delight to laugh at fome mens ways, But a much greater to give Merit praife. 20 I TO MR. POPE. ON HIS PASTORALS. N these more dull, as more cenforious days, 5 Art ftrength'ning Nature, Senfe improv'd by Sound. Unlike those Wits, whofe numbers glide along So fmooth, no thought e'er interrupts the fong: Laboriously enervate they appear, And write not to the head, but to the ear: So purling ftreams with even murmurs creep, 10 15 Your 20 25 Your ftrains are regularly bold, and please In filks the shepherd, and the fhepherdefs; Yet ftill unchang'd the form and mode remain, 30 35 The long loft graces of Simplicity: 40 With virgin charms, and native excellence. Yet long her Modesty those charms conceal'd, 'Till by mens Envy to the world reveal'd; For Wits induftrious to their trouble feem, And needs will envy what they must esteem. 45 ..VER. 28, Sylvan Mufe] From Boileau's Art of Poetry, Chant. 2. 1. 1. Pope feems to have corrected these lines. VOL. I. C Live Live and enjoy their fpite! nor mourn that fate, Which would, if Virgil liv'd, on Virgil wait; Whose Muse did once, like thine, in plains delight; Thine fhall, like his, foon take a higher flight; So Larks, which first from lowly fields arise, Mount by degrees, and reach at last the skies. 50 W. WYCHERLEY. H TO MR. POPE, ON HIS WINDSOR-FOREST. AIL, facred Bard! a Mufe unknown before Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic fhore. 6 10 And drefs'd the rocky fhelves, and pav'd the painted bay. Thy treasures next arriv'd: and now we boast A nobler cargo on our barren coaft: From thy luxuriant Forest we receive More lafting glories than the Eaft can give. 15 Where |