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For 'twill be thought, and with fome colour

too,

I pay the bribe I first receiv'd from you;
That mutual vouchers for our fame we ftand, s
And play the game into each other's hand;
And as cheap pen'orths to ourselves afford,
As Beffus and the brothers of the fword.
Such libels private men may well endure,
When states and kings themselves are not se-

cure:

10

For ill men, confcious of their inward guilt,
Think the best actions on by-ends are built.
And yet my filence had not 'scap'd their spite ;
Then, envy had not fuffer'd me to write;
For, fince I could not ignorance pretend,
Such merit I must envy or commend.
So

15

many candidates there stand for wit, A place at court is scarce fo hard to get : In vain they crowd each other at the door; For e'en reverfions are all begg'd before: Defert, how known foe'er, is long delay'd; And then too fools and knaves are better pay'd.

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Yet, as fome actions bear fo great a name, That courts themselves are juft, for fear of

fhame;

So has the mighty merit of your play
Extorted praise, and forc'd itself

away.

25

"Tis here as 'tis at fea; who fartheft goes, Or dares the moft, makes all the reft his foes. Yet when fome virtue much outgrows the reft,

30.

It shoots too faft, and high, to be exprest;
As his heroic worth ftruck envy dumb,
Who took the Dutchman, and who cut the

boom.

Such praise is your's, while you the paffions

move,

That 'tis no longer feign'd, 'tis real love,
Where nature triumphs over wretched art; 35
We only warm the head, but you the heart.
Always you warm; and if the rising year,
As in hot regions, brings the fun too near,
'Tis but to make your fragrant fpices blow,
Which in our cooler climates will not grow. 40
They only think
you animate your theme

With too much fire, who are themfelves an phlegm.

Prizes would be for lags of flowest pace,

Were cripples made the judges of the race. Defpife thofe drones, who praife, while they

accufe

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The too much vigour of your youthful mufe. That humble style which they your virtue make,

Is in your power; you need but stoop and

take.

Your beauteous images must be allow'd
By all, but fome vile poets of the crowd.
But how should any fign-poft dawber know
The worth of Titian or of Angelo?

Hard features every bungler can command;
To draw true beauty fhews a master's hand.

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EPISTLE THE FIFTH.

TO THE

EARL OF ROSCOMMON,

ON HIS

EXCELLENT ESSAY

ON

TRANSLATED VERSE.

WHETHER the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore,

The feeds of arts and infant fcience bore,
"Tis fure the noble plant, translated first,
Advanc'd its head in Grecian gardens nurft.
The Grecians added verse : their tuneful

tongue

5

Made nature first, and nature's God their fong. Nor ftopt tranflation here: for conqu'ring Rome,

With Grecian fpoils, brought Grecian numbers home;

Enrich'd by thofe Athenian muses more,
Than all the vanquish'd world could yield be-

fore.

10

"Till barbarous nations, and more barbarous

times,

15

Debas'd the majesty of verse to rhimes ;
Those rude at first: a kind of hobbling profe,
That limp'd along, and tinkled in the close.
But Italy, reviving from the trance
Of Vandal, Goth, and Monkifh ignorance,
With pauses, cadence, and well-vowell'd words,
And all the graces a good ear affords,
Made rhyme an art, and Dante's polish'd page
Reftor'd a filver, not a golden age.

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Ver. 12, Debas'd the majesty of verfe to rhimes;] The advocates for rhyme feem not to advert to what Servius fays, that rhyme was used in the time of the Saturnalia by the Roman populace in their rude fongs, and by the foldiers in their acclamations, and at their feafts in honour of their victorious generals. We may apply to rhyme what Seneca fays of the fubtleties of logic, "Comminuitur et debilitatur generofa indoles in istas auguftias conjecta."

JOHN WARTON.

Ver. 14. and tinkled in the clofe.] Dryden adopts the contemptuous defcription of rhyme from preceding authors, and those of no mean note. Thus in Ben Jonfon's Maík of The Fortunate Ifles, Skogan, the jetter, is represented as a writer "in rime, fine tinckling rime!" And Andrew Marvell, in his fpirited verfes to Milton on his Paradife Loft, thus exclaims: "Well might'ft thou fcorn thy readers to allure "With tinkling rhime, pf thy own fenfe fecure."

TODD.

Ver. 19. Dante's polish'd page] There is a very ancient Italian poem, entitled, Afpramonte, containing an account of the war of King Guarnieri and Agolante against Rome

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