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Thus Voiture's early care *) still shone the
And Montausier was only changed in name:
By this ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm,
Their wit still 1parkling, and their flames still warm.
Now crown'd withi myrtle on th' Elysian coaft,
Amid those lovers joys his gentle ghoft;
Pleas'd while with smiles his happy lines you view,
And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you.
The brightest eyes of France inspir'd his Muse;
The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse;
And dead, as living, 'tis our author's pride
Still to charm those who charm the world beside,
S. B. I. S. 33. 414. Man findet zwolf poetische Episteln unter seinen verinischten Gedichten, die stellenweise viel Verdienst haben, ob sie gleich im Ganzen etwas zu kalt und einförmig sind. Folgende ift eine der besten.
On a Miscellany of Poems. Ipfa varietate tentamus efficere, vt alia aliis, quaedam fortasse omnibus placeant.
As when some skilful cook, to please each
Would in one mixture comprehend a Feast,
With due proportion and judicious care
He fills his dish with diff'rent sorts of fare,
Fishes and fowls deliciously unite,
To feast at once the taste, the smell, and fight:
So, Bernard! must a Miscellany be
Compounded of all kinds of poetry;
The Muse's olio, which all tastes may fit,
And treat each reader with his darling wit.
Wouldst thou for Miscellanies raise thy fame,
And bravely rival Jacob's mighty name,
Let all the Mules in the piece conspire;
The lyric Bard muft strike th' harmonious lyre;
Heroic strains must here and there be found,
And nervous sense be sung in lofty sound:
Let Elegy in moving numbers flow,
And fill fome pages with melodious woe;
Let not your am'rous fongs too num'rous prove,
Nor glut thy reader with abundant love:
Satire must interfere, whose pointed rage
May lash the madness of a vicious age;
Satire, the Muse that never fails to hit,
For if there's scandal, to be sure there's wit.
Tire not our patience with Pindaric lays,
Thole fwell the piece, but very rarely please;
Let short-breath'd Epigram its force confine,
And strike at follies in a single line:
Translations should throughout the work be sown,
And Homer's goldlike Mufe be made our own:
Horace in useful numbers should be sung,
And Virgil's thoughts adorn the British tongue:
Lét Ovid tell Corinna's hard disdain,
And at her door in melting notes complain:
His tender accents pitying virgins move,
And charm the list'ning ear with tales of love.
Let ev'ry classic in the volume shine,
And each contribute to the great design:
Thro' various subjects let the reader range,
And raise his fancy with a grateful change;
Variety's the source of joy below,
From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow.
In books and love the mind one end pursues,
And only change th' expiring flame renews.
Where Buckingham will condescend to give,
That honour'd piece to distant times must live:
When noble Sheffield strikes the trembling strings,
The little Loves rejoice, and clap their wings:
Anacreon lives, they cry: th' harmonious Twain
Retunes the lyre, and tries his wonted strain;
'Tis he! – Our loft Anacreon lives again.
But when th' illustrious poet soars above
The sportive revels of the God of Love,
Like Maro's Muse he takes a loftier Aight,
And tow'rs beyond the wond'ring Cupid's fight.
If thou wouldst have thy volume stand the
And of all others be reputed best,
Let Congreve teach the liftning groves to mourn; · Gay.
As when he wept o'er fair Paitora's urn.
Let Prior's Muse with soft'ning accents
Soft as the strains of constant Emma's love;
Or let his fancy chuse fome jovial theme,
As when he told Hans Carvel's jealous dream:
Prior th' admiring reader entertains
With Chaucer's humour, and with Spenser's
Waller in Granville lives: when Mira sings,
With Waller's hand he strikes the founding strings;
With Sprightly turns his noble genius Chines,
And manly lense adorns his easy lines.
On Addison's sweet lays Attention waits,
And Silence guards the place while he repeats;
His Muse alike on ev'ry subject charms,
Whether she paints the god of Love or Arms:
In him pathetic Ovid sings again,
And Homer's Iliad shines in his Campaign.
Whenever Garth shall raise his sprightly
Sense flows in eafy numbers from his tongue;
Great Phoebus in his learned son we see,
Alike in physic as in poetry.
When Pope's harmonious Muse with pleasure
Amidst the plains, the murm'ring streams and gro
Attentive Echo pleas'd to hear his songs.
Thro' the glad shade each warbling note prolongs;
His various numbers charm our ravish'd ears,
His steady judgment far outshoots his years,
And early in the youth the god appears.
From these successful bards collect thy ftrains,
And praise with profit shall reward thy pains:
Then, while calves’-leather binding bears the sway,
And sheep-skin to its sleeker gloss gives way,
While neat old Elzevir is reckon'd better
Then Pirate Hill's brown sheets and scurvy letter,
While print-admirers careful Aldus chute
Before John Morphew, or the weekly news,
So long shall live thy praise in books of Fame,
And Tonfon yield to Lintott's lofty name.