Yet if we look more closely, we shall find,
* Most have the feeds of judgment in their mind
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines tho' touched but faintly, are drawn right.
But as the flightest sketch, if juftly trac'd,
Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd;
So by falfe learning is good sense defac'd.
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs, nature meant but fools.
In fearch of wit, thofe lofe their common fense,
And then turn criticks in their own defence.
Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,
Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's fpite.
All fools have ftill an itching to deride,
And fain wou'd be upon the laughing fide :
If Mævius fcribble in Apollo's fpite,
There are, who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for wits, then poets past, Turn'd criticks next, and prov'd plain fools at last. Some neither can for wits or criticks pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse, nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings num'rous in our isle,
As half-form'd infects on the banks of Nile,
* Omnes tacito quodam fenfu, fine ullâ arte, aut ratione, qua fint in artibus ac rationibus recta ac prava dijudicant.
At vero propius fi ftemus, cuique fatendum eft,
Judicium quoddam natura infeverit olim :
Illa diem certe dubiam diffundere callet
Et, ftrictim defcripta licet, fibi linea conftat.
Sed minimum ut fpecimen, quod pictor doctus adumbrat,
Deterius tibi fiat eo mage, quo mage vilem
Inducas ifti fucum, fic, mentis honestæ
Doctrina effigiem maculabit prava decoram.
His inter cæcas. mens illaqueata fcholarum
Ambages errat, ftolidifque fupervenit illis
(Diis aliter vifum eft) petulantia. Perdere fenfum Communem hi fudant, dum fruftra afcendere Pindum Conantur, mox, ut fe defenforibus ipfis
Utantur, critici quoque fiunt: omnibus idem
Ardor fcribendi, ftudio hi rivalis aguntur,
Illis invalida cunuchi violentia glifcit.
Ridendi proprium eft fatuis cacoethes, amantque
Turbe perpetuo fefe immifcere jocofæ.
Mævius invito dum fudat Apolline, multi
Pingue opus exuperant (fi diis placet) emendando.
Sunt qui belli homines primo, tum deinde poetæ,
Mox critici evafêre, meri tum denique ftulti.
Eft, qui nec criticum nec vatem reddit, inerfque
Ut mulus, medium quoddam eft afinum inter equumque.
Bellula femi-hominum vix poene elementa fcientum
Primula gens horum eft, premitur quibus Anglia,
Imperfecta fcatent ripis animalcula Nili,
Unfinish'd things one knows not what to call,
Their generation's fo equivocal:
To tell 'em, wou'd a hundred tongues require,
Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And juftly bear a critick's noble name,
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go.
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
And wifely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
As on the land while here the ocean gains,
In other parts it leaves wide fandy plains.
Thus in the foul, while memory prevails,
The folid pow'r of understanding fails;
Where beams of warm imagination play,
The memory's foft figures melt away.
One fcience only will one genius fit:
So vaft is art, fo narrow human wit:
Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
But oft in thofe confin'd to fingle parts.
Like kings, we lofe the conquefts gain'd before,
By vain ambition ftill to make them more.
Each might his feveral province well-command,
Would all but ftoop to what they understand.
Futile, abortivum genus, & prope nominis expers, Ufque adeo æquivoca eft, e quâ generantur, origo. Hos centum nequeunt linguæ numerare, nec una Unius ex ipfis, quæ centum fola fatiget.
At tu qui famam fimul exigis atque redonas Pro meritis, criticique affectas nobile nomen. Metitor te ipfum, prudenfque expendito quæ fit Judicii, ingenii tibi, doctrinæque facultas; Si qua profunda nimis, cauto vitentor, & ifta Linea, quâ coeunt ftupor ingeniumque, notator. Qui finem impofuit rebus Deus omnibus aptum, Humani vanum ingenii reftrinxit acumen. Qualis ubi oceani vis noftra irrumpit in arva, Tunc defolatas alibi denudat arenas ; Sic animæ reminifcendi dum copia reftat, Confilii gravioris abeft plerumque potestas ; Aft ubi Phantafiæ fulgent radiantia tela, Mnemofyne teneris cum formis victa liquefcit. Ingenio tantum Mufa uni fufficit una, Tanta ars eft, tantilla fcientia noftra videtur: Non folum ad certas artes aftricta fequendas, Sæpe has non nifi quâdam in fimplice parte fequatur. Deperdas partos utcunque labore triumphos, Dum plures, regum inftar, aves acquirere lauros ; Sed fua tractatu facilis provincia cuique eft, Si non, quæ pulchre fciat, ut vulgaria, temnat.
Firft follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her juft ftandard, which is ftill the fame.
Unerring Nature, ftill divinely bright,
One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
Life, force and beauty muft to all impart,
At once the fource, and end, and test of art.
Art from that fund each juft fupply provides,
Works without fhow, and without
pomp prefides:
In fome fair body thus th' informing foul
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains
Itfelf unfeen, but in th' effect, remains.
There are whom heav'n has bleft with ftore of wit,
Yet want as much again to manage it;
For wit and judgment ever are at strife,
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide, than fpur, the mufe's fteed;
Reftrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
The winged courfer, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
Thofe rules of old discover'd, not devis'd,
Are Nature ftill, but Nature methodiz'd:
Nature, like monarchy, is but reftrain'd
By the fame laws, which firft herself ordain'd.
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