ODE ON SOLITUDE

‘This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old,’ says Pope in one of his unsigned and unreliable notes. If the statement is true, it was probably written during the year 1700. It is apparently the earliest poem of Pope’s which remains to us, though according to Roscoe, ‘Dodsley, who was honoured with his intimacy, had seen several pieces of an earlier date.’

• • Happy the man whose wish and care
  • A few paternal acres bound,
  • Content to breathe his native air
  • In his own ground.
• • Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
  • Whose flocks supply him with attire,
  • Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
  • In winter fire.
• • Bless’d who can unconcern’dly find
  • Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
  • In health of body, peace of mind,
  • Quiet by day;
• • Sound sleep by night: study and ease
  • Together mix’d; sweet recreation;
  • And innocence, which most does please,
  • With meditation.
• • Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
  • Thus unlamented let me die;
  • Steal from the world, and not a stone
  • Tell where I lie.

A PARAPHRASE (ON THOMAS À KEMPIS, L. III. C. 2)

Supposed to have been written in 1700; first published from the Caryll Papers in the Athenæum, July 15, 1854.

• • Speak, Gracious Lord, oh, speak; thy servant hears:
  • For I’m thy servant and I’ll still be so:
  • Speak words of comfort in my willing ears;
  • And since my tongue is in thy praises slow,
  • And since that thine all Rhetoric exceeds:
  • Speak thou in words, but let me speak in deeds!
• • Nor speak alone, but give me grace to hear
  • What thy celestial Sweetness does impart;
  • Let it not stop when enter’d at the ear,
  • But sink, and take deep rooting in my heart.
  • As the parch’d Earth drinks rain (but grace afford)
  • With such a gust will I receive thy word.
• • Nor with the Israelites shall I desire
  • Thy heav’nly word by Moses to receive,
  • Lest I should die: but Thou who didst inspire
  • Moses himself, speak Thou, that I may live.
  • Rather with Samuel I beseech with tears,
  • Speak, gracious Lord, oh, speak, thy servant hears.
• • Moses, indeed, may say the words, but Thou
  • Must give the Spirit, and the Life inspire;
  • Our Love to thee his fervent breath may blow,
  • But ’t is thyself alone can give the fire:
  • Thou without them may’st speak and profit too;
  • But without thee what could the Prophets do?
• Edition: current; Page: [2]
• • They preach the Doctrine, but thou mak’st us do’t;
  • They teach the myst’ries thou dost open lay;
  • The trees they water, but thou giv’st the fruit;
  • They to Salvation show the arduous way,
  • But none but you can give us strength to walk;
  • You give the Practice, they but give the Talk.
• • Let them be silent then; and thou alone,
  • My God! speak comfort to my ravish’d ears;
  • Light of my eyes, my Consolation,
  • Speak when thou wilt, for still thy servant hears.
  • Whate’er thou speak’st, let this be understood:
  • Thy greater Glory, and my greater Good!

TO THE AUTHOR OF A POEM ENTITLED SUCCESSIO[ ]

Elkanah Settle, celebrated as Doeg in Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel, wrote Successio in honor of the incoming Brunswick dynasty. Warburton (or possibly Pope) in a note on Dunciad, I. 181, says that the poem was ‘written at fourteen years old, and soon after printed.’ A good instance of Pope’s economy of material will be found in the passage upon which that note bears: an adaptation of lines 4, 17 and 18 of this early poem. It was first published in Lintot’s Miscellanies, 1712.

• Begone, ye Critics, and restrain your spite,
• Codrus writes on, and will forever write.
• The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has gone,
• As clocks run fastest when most lead is on;
• What tho’ no bees around your cradle flew,
• Nor on your lips distill’d their golden dew;
• Yet have we oft discover’d in their stead
• A swarm of drones that buzz’d about your head.
• When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre,
• Attentive blocks stand round you and admire.
• Wit pass’d thro’ thee no longer is the same,
• As meat digested takes a diff’rent name;
• But sense must sure thy safest plunder be,
• Since no reprisals can be made on thee.
• Thus thou may’st rise, and in thy daring flight
• (Tho’ ne’er so weighty) reach a wondrous height.
• So, forc’d from engines, lead itself can fly,
• And pond’rous slugs move nimbly thro’ the sky.
• Sure Bavius copied Mœvius to the full,
• And Chœrilus taught Codrus to be dull;
• Therefore, dear friend, at my advice give o’er
• This needless labour; and contend no more
• To prove a dull succession to be true,
• Since ’t is enough we find it so in you.

THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS’S THEBAIS
TRANSLATED IN THE YEAR 1703

Though Pope ascribes this translation to 1703, there is evidence that part of it was done as early as 1699. It was finally revised and published in 1712, but Courthope asserts that ‘it is fair to assume that the body of the composition is preserved in its original form.’

IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS

These imitations, with the exception of Silence (Lintot, 1712), were not published till 1727. Pope says, however, that they were ‘done as early as the translations, some of them at fourteen and fifteen years old.’ The Happy Life of a Country Parson must have been written later than the rest, as Pope did not know Swift till 1713.

DISCOURSE ON PASTORAL POETRY

There are not, I believe, a greater number of any sort of verses than of those which are called Pastorals; nor a smaller than of those which are truly so. It therefore seems necessary to give some account of this kind of poem; and it is my design to comprise in this short paper the substance of those numerous dissertations that critics have made on the subject, without omitting any of their rules in my own favour. You will also find some points reconciled, about which they seem to differ, and a few remarks which, I think, have escaped their observation.

The origin of Poetry is ascribed to that age which succeeded the creation of the world: and as the keeping of flocks seems to have been the first employment of mankind, the most ancient sort of poetry was probably pastoral.1 It is natural to imagine, that the leisure of those ancient shepherds admitting and inviting some diversion, none was so proper to that solitary and sedentary life as singing; and that in their songs they took occasion to celebrate their own felicity. From hence a poem was invented, and afterwards improved to a perfect image of that happy time; which, by giving us an esteem for the virtues of a former age, might recommend them to the present. And since the life of shepherds was attended with more tranquillity than any other rural employment, the poets chose to introduce their persons, from whom it received the name of Pastoral.

A Pastoral is an imitation of the action of a shepherd, or one considered under that character. The form of this imitation is dramatic, or narrative, or mixed of both:2 the fable simple, the manners not too polite nor too rustic: the thoughts are plain, yet admit a little quickness and passion, but that short and flowing: the expression humble, yet as pure as the language will afford; neat, but not florid; easy, and yet lively. In short, the fable, manners, thoughts, and expressions are full of the greatest simplicity in nature.

The complete character of this poem consists in simplicity,3 brevity, and delicacy; the two first of which render an eclogue natural, and the last delightful.

If we would copy nature, it may be useful to take this idea along with us, that Pastoral is an image of what they call the golden age: so that we are not to describe our shepherds as shepherds at this day really are, but as they may be conceived then to have been, when the best of men followed the employment. To carry this resemblance yet further, it would not be amiss to give these shepherds some skill in astronomy, as far as it may be useful to that sort of life; and an air of piety to the gods should shine through the poem, which so visibly appears in all the works of antiquity; and it ought to preserve some relish of the old way of writing: the connection should be loose, the narrations and descriptions short,4 and the periods concise. Yet it is not sufficient that the sentences only be brief; the whole eclogue should be so too: for we cannot suppose poetry in those days to have been the business of men, but their recreation at vacant hours.

But, with respect to the present age, nothing more conduces to make these composures natural, than when some knowledge in rural affairs is discovered.5 This may be made to appear rather done by chance than on design, and sometimes is best shown by inference; lest, by too much study to seem natural, we destroy that easy simplicity from whence arises the delight. For what is inviting in this sort of poetry proceeds not so much from the idea of that business, as of the tranquillity of a country life.

We must therefore use some illusion to render a pastoral delightful; and this consists in exposing the best side only of a shepherd’s life, and in concealing its miseries.1 Nor is it enough to introduce shepherds discoursing together in a natural way; but a regard must be had to the subject; that it contain some particular beauty in itself, and that it be different in every eclogue. Besides, in each of them a designed scene or prospect is to be presented to our view, which should likewise have its variety. This variety is obtained, in a great degree, by frequent comparisons, drawn from the most agreeable objects of the country; by interrogations to things inanimate; by beautiful digressions, but those short; sometimes by insisting a little on circumstances; and, lastly, by elegant turns on the words, which render the numbers extremely sweet and pleasing. As for the numbers themselves, though they are properly of the heroic measure, they should be the smoothest, the most easy and flowing imaginable.

It is by rules like these that we ought to judge of Pastoral. And since the instructions given for any art are to be delivered as that art is in perfection, they must of necessity be derived from those in whom it is acknowledged so to be. It is therefore from the practice of Theocritus and Virgil (the only undisputed authors of Pastoral) that the critics have drawn the foregoing notions concerning it.

Theocritus excels all others in nature and simplicity. The subjects of his Idyllia are purely pastoral; but he is not so exact in his persons, having introduced reapers2 and fishermen as well as shepherds. He is apt to be too long in his descriptions, of which that of the cup in the first pastoral is a remarkable instance. In the manners he seems a little defective, for his swains are sometimes abusive and immodest, and perhaps too much inclining to rusticity; for instance, in his fourth and fifth Idyllia. But it is enough that all others learned their excellences from him, and that his dialect alone has a secret charm in it, which no other could ever attain.

Virgil, who copies Theocritus, refines upon his original; and, in all points where judgment is principally concerned, he is much superior to his master. Though some of his subjects are not pastoral in themselves, but only seem to be such, they have a wonderful variety in them, which the Greek was a stranger to.3 He exceeds him in regularity and brevity, and falls short of him in nothing but simplicity and propriety of style; the first of which, perhaps, was the fault of his age, and the last of his language.

Among the moderns their success has been greatest who have most endeavoured to make these ancients their pattern. The most considerable genius appears in the famous Tasso, and our Spenser. Tasso, in his Aminta, has as far excelled all the pastoral writers, as in his Gierusalemme he has outdone the epic poets of his country. But as this piece seems to have been the original of a new sort of poem, the pastoral comedy, in Italy, it cannot so well be considered as a copy of the ancients. Spenser’s Calendar, in Mr. Dryden’s opinion, is the most complete work of this kind which any nation has produced ever since the time of Virgil.4 Not but that he may be thought imperfect in some few points: his eclogues are somewhat too long, if we compare them with the ancients; he is sometimes too allegorical, and treats of matters of religion in a pastoral style, as the Mantuan had done before him; he has employed the lyric measure, which is contrary to the practice of the old poets; his stanza is not still the same, nor always well chosen. This last may be the reason his expression is sometimes not concise enough; for the tetrastic has obliged him to extend his sense to the length of four lines, which would have been more closely confined in the couplet.

In the manners, thoughts, and characters, he comes near to Theocritus himself; though, notwithstanding all the care he has taken, he is certainly inferior in his dialect: for the Doric had its beauty and propriety in the time of Theocritus; it was used in part of Greece, and frequent in the mouths of many of the greatest persons: whereas the old English and country phrases of Spenser were either entirely obsolete, or spoken only by people of the lowest condition. As there is a difference betwixt simplicity and rusticity, so the expression of simple thoughts should be plain, but not clownish. The addition he has made of a calendar to his eclogues is very beautiful; since by this, besides the general moral of innocence and simplicity, which is common to other authors of Pastoral, he has one peculiar to himself; he compares human life to the several seasons, and at once exposes to his readers a view of the great and little worlds, in their various changes and aspects. Yet the scrupulous division of his pastorals into months has obliged him either to repeat the same description, in other words, for three months together, or, when it was exhausted before, entirely to omit it; whence it comes to pass that some of Edition: current; Page: [21] his eclogues (as the sixth, eighth, and tenth for example) have nothing but their titles to distinguish them. The reason is evident, because the year has not that variety in it to furnish every month with a particular description, as it may every season.

Of the following eclogues I shall only say, that these four comprehend all the subjects which the critics upon Theocritus and Virgil will allow to be fit for Pastoral; that they have as much variety of description, in respect of the several seasons, as Spenser’s; that, in order to add to this variety, the several times of the day are observed, the rural employments in each season or time of day, and the rural scenes or places proper to such employments, not without some regard to the several ages of man, and the different passions proper to each age.

But after all, if they have any merit, it is to be attributed to some good old authors; whose works, as I had leisure to study, so, I hope, I have not wanted care to imitate.

JANUARY AND MAY: OR, THE MERCHANT’S TALE

Pope says that this ‘translation’ was done at sixteen or seventeen years of age. It was first published, with the Pastorals, in 1709, in Tonson’s sixth Miscellany. Eventually Pope grouped the Chaucer imitations with Eloisa to Abelard, the translations from Ovid and Statius and the brief Imitations of English Poets. To this collection be prefixed this Advertisement:—

‘The following Translations were selected from many others done by the Author in his youth; for the most part indeed but a sort of Exercises, while he was improving himself in the Languages, and carried by his early bent to Poetry to perform them rather in Verse than Prose. Mr. Dryden’s Fables came out about that time, which occasioned the Translations from Chaucer. They were first separately printed in Miscellanies by J. Tonson and B. Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English Authors, which are added at the end, were done as early, some of them at fourteen or fifteen years old; but having also got into Miscellanies, we have put them here together to complete this Juvenile Volume.’

Warburton asserts that Pope did not intend to include this group of poems in the final edition of his works.

• • There liv’d in Lombardy, as authors write,
  • In days of old, a wise and worthy Knight;
  • Of gentle manners, as of gen’rous race,
  • Blest with much sense, more riches, and some grace:
  • Yet, led astray by Venus’ soft delights,
  • He scarce could rule some idle appetites:
  • For long ago, let priests say what they could,
  • Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.
• • But in due time, when sixty years were o’er,1903: 9
  • He vow’d to lead this vicious life no more;
  • Whether pure holiness inspired his mind,
  • Or dotage turn’d his brain, is hard to find;
  • But his high courage prick’d him forth to wed,
  • And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.
  • This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
  • And to the heav’nly Powers his constant prayer,
  • Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful life
  • Of a kind husband and a loving wife.
• • These thoughts he fortified with reasons still
  • (For none want reasons to confirm their will).1903: 20
  • Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,
  • That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
  • But depth of judgment most in him appears
  • Who wisely weds in his maturer years.
  • Then let him choose a damsel young and fair,
  • To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
  • To soothe his cares, and, free from noise and strife,
  • Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
  • Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,
  • Full well they merit all they feel, and more:1903: 30
  • Unaw’d by precepts, human or divine,
  • Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join;
  • Nor know to make the present blessing last,
  • To hope the future, or esteem the past;
  • But vainly boast the joys they never tried,
  • And find divulged the secrets they would hide.
  • The married man may bear his yoke with ease,
  • Secure at once himself and Heav’n to please;
  • And pass his inoffensive hours away,
  • In bliss all night, and innocence all day:1903: 40
  • Tho’ fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
  • Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
• • But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?
  • Some wicked Wits have libell’d all the Fair.
  • With matchless impudence they style a wife
  • The dear-bought curse and lawful plague of life,
  • A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,
  • A night-invasion, and a midday-devil.
  • Edition: current; Page: [36]
  • Let not the wise these sland’rous words regard,
  • But curse the bones of ev’ry lying bard.1903: 50
  • All other goods by Fortune’s hand are giv’n,
  • A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav’n.
  • Vain Fortune’s favours, never at a stay,
  • Like empty shadows pass and glide away;
  • One solid comfort, our eternal wife,
  • Abundantly supplies us all our life:
  • This blessing lasts (if those who try say true)
  • As long as heart can wish—and longer too.
• • Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possess’d,
  • Alone, and ev’n in Paradise unbless’d,1903: 60
  • With mournful looks the blissful scene survey’d,
  • And wander’d in the solitary shade.
  • The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow’d
  • Woman, the last, the best reserv’d of God.
• • A Wife! ah gentle Deities! can he
  • That has a wife e’er feel adversity?
  • Would men but follow what the sex advise,
  • All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.
  • ’T was by Rebecca’s aid that Jacob won
  • His father’s blessing from an elder son:1903: 70
  • Abusive Nabal ow’d his forfeit life
  • To the wise conduct of a prudent wife:
  • Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
  • Preserv’d the Jews, and slew th’ Assyrian foe:
  • At Hester’s suit the persecuting sword
  • Was sheath’d, and Israel liv’d to bless the Lord.
• • These weighty motives January the sage
  • Maturely ponder’d in his riper age;
  • And charm’d with virtuous joys, and sober life,
  • Would try that Christian comfort call’d a wife.1903: 80
  • His friends were summon’d on a point so nice
  • To pass their judgment, and to give advice;
  • But fix’d before, and well resolv’d was he
  • (As men that ask advice are wont to be).
• • ‘My friends,’ he cried (and cast a mournful look
  • Around the room, and sigh’d before he spoke),
  • ‘Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,
  • And, worn with cares, am hastening to my end.
  • How I have liv’d, alas! you know too well—
  • In worldly follies which I blush to tell;1903: 90
  • But gracious Heav’n has oped my eyes at last,
  • With due regret I view my vices past,
  • And, as the precept of the church decrees,
  • Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.
  • But since by counsel all things should be done,
  • And many heads are wiser still than one;
  • Choose you for me, who best shall be content
  • When my desire’s approv’d by your consent.
• • ‘One caution yet is needful to be told,
  • To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:1903: 100
  • There goes a saying, and ’t was shrewdly said,
  • Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
  • My soul abhors the tasteless dry embrace
  • Of a stale virgin with a winter face:
  • In that cold season Love but treats his guest
  • With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best.
  • No crafty widows shall approach my bed;
  • Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.
  • As subtle clerks by many schools are made,
  • Twice married dames are mistresses o’ th’ trade:1903: 110
  • But young and tender virgins, ruled with ease,
  • We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
• • ‘Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my sense amiss;
  • ’T is what concerns my soul’s eternal bliss;
  • Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse,
  • As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows?
  • Then should I live in lewd adultery,
  • And sink downright to Satan when I die:
  • Or were I curs’d with an unfruitful bed,
  • The righteous end were lost for which I wed;1903: 120
  • To raise up seed to bless the Powers above,
  • And not for pleasure only, or for love.
  • Think not I dote; ’t is time to take a wife,
  • When vig’rous blood forbids a chaster life:
  • Edition: current; Page: [37]
  • Those that are blest with store of grace divine,
  • May live like saints by Heav’n’s consent and mine.
• • ‘And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,
  • (As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may)
  • My limbs are active, still I’m sound at heart,
  • And a new vigour springs in ev’ry part.1903: 130
  • Think not my virtue lost, tho’ time has shed
  • These rev’rend honours on my hoary head:
  • Thus trees are crown’d with blossoms white as snow,
  • The vital sap then rising from below.
  • Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear
  • Like winter-greens, that flourish all the year.
  • Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand inclin’d,
  • Let ev’ry friend with freedom speak his mind.’
• • He said; the rest in diff’rent parts divide;
  • The knotty point was urged on either side:1903: 140
  • Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim’d,
  • Some prais’d with wit, and some with reason blamed.
  • Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
  • Each wondrous positive and wondrous wise,
  • There fell between his brothers a debate:
  • Placebo this was call’d, and Justin that.
• • First to the knight Placebo thus begun,
  • (Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone)
  • ‘Such prudence, Sir, in all your words appears,
  • As plainly proves Experience dwells with years!1903: 150
  • Yet you pursue sage Solomon’s advice,
  • To work by counsel when affairs are nice:
  • But, with the wise man’s leave, I must protest, }
  • So may my soul arrive at ease and rest, }
  • As still I hold your own advice the best. }
• • ‘Sir, I have liv’d a courtier all my days,
  • And studied men, their manners, and their ways;
  • And have observ’d this useful maxim still,
  • To let my betters always have their will.
• • ‘Nay, if my lord affirm’d that black was white,1903: 160
  • My word was this, “Your Honour’s in the right.”
  • Th’ assuming Wit, who deems himself so wise
  • As his mistaken patron to advise,
  • Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought;
  • A noble fool was never in a fault.
  • This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev’ry word
  • Is weigh’d with judgment, and befits a Lord:
  • Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
  • Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man;
  • At least your courage all the world must praise,1903: 170
  • Who dare to wed in your declining days.
  • Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
  • And let gray fools be indolently good,
  • Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
  • With rev’rend Dulness and grave Impotence.’
• • Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
  • Thus with a philosophic frown began:
• • ‘A heathen author, of the first degree,
  • (Who, tho’ not Faith, had Sense as well as we)1903: 179
  • Bids us be certain our concerns to trust
  • To those of gen’rous principles and just.
  • The venture’s greater, I’ll presume to say,
  • To give your person, than your goods away:
  • And therefore, Sir, as you regard your rest,
  • First learn your lady’s qualities at least:
  • Whether she’s chaste or rampant, proud or civil,
  • Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
  • Whether an easy, fond, familiar Fool,
  • Or such a Wit as no man e’er can rule.
  • ’T is true, perfection none must hope to find1903: 190
  • In all this world, much less in womankind;
  • But if her virtue prove the larger share,
  • Bless the kind Fates and think your fortune rare.
  • Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
  • Who knows too well the state you thus commend;
  • Edition: current; Page: [38]
  • And spite of all his praises must declare,
  • All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
  • Heav’n knows I shed full many a private tear,
  • And sigh in silence lest the world should hear;
  • While all my friends applaud my blissful life,1903: 200
  • And swear no mortal’s happier in a wife:
  • Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,
  • The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
  • But by th’immortal Powers I feel the pain,
  • And he that smarts has reason to complain.
  • Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
  • And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:
  • But at these years to venture on the Fair!
  • By him who made the ocean, earth, and air,1903: 209
  • To please a wife, when her occasions call,
  • Would busy the most vig’rous of us all.
  • And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose,
  • Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
  • If what I speak my noble lord offend,
  • My tedious sermon here is at an end.’
• • ‘’T is well, ’t is wondrous well,’ the Knight replies,
  • ‘Most worthy kinsman, faith, you ’re mighty wise!
  • We, Sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause
  • To heath’nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.’
  • He spoke with scorn, and turn’d another way:1903: 220
  • ‘What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?’
• • ‘I say,’ quoth he, ‘by Heav’n the man’s to blame,
  • To slander wives, and wedlock’s holy name.’
• • At this the council rose without delay;
  • Each, in his own opinion, went his way;
  • With full consent, that, all disputes appeas’d,
  • The Knight should marry when and where he pleas’d.
• • Who now but January exults with joy?
  • The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:
  • Each nymph by turns his wavering mind possess’d,1903: 230
  • And reign’d the short-lived tyrant of his breast;
  • Whilst fancy pictured ev’ry lively part,
  • And each bright image wander’d o’er his heart.
  • Thus, in some public forum fix’d on high,
  • A mirror shows the figures moving by;
  • Still one by one, in swift succession, pass
  • The gliding shadows o’er the polish’d glass.
  • This lady’s charms the nicest could not blame,
  • But vile suspicions had aspers’d her fame;
  • That was with Sense, but not with Virtue blest;1903: 240
  • And one had Grace that wanted all the rest.
  • Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,
  • He fix’d at last upon the youthful May.
  • Her faults he knew not (Love is always blind),
  • But every charm revolv’d within his mind:
  • Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
  • Her easy motion, her attractive air,
  • Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,
  • Her moving softness, and majestic grace.
• • Much in his prudence did our Knight rejoice,1903: 250
  • And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:
  • Once more in haste he summon’d ev’ry friend,
  • And told them all their pains were at an end.
  • ‘Heav’n, that (said he) inspired me first to wed,
  • Provides a consort worthy of my bed:
  • Let none oppose th’ election, since on this
  • Depends my quiet and my future bliss.
• • ‘A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,
  • Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise;
  • Chaste, tho’ not rich; and, tho’ not nobly born,1903: 260
  • Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.
  • Her will I wed, if gracious Heav’n so please,
  • To pass my age in sanctity and ease;
  • And thank the Powers, I may possess alone
  • The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none!
  • If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
  • My joys are full, my happiness is sure.
• Edition: current; Page: [39]
• • ‘One only doubt remains: full oft, I’ve heard,
  • By casuists grave and deep divines averr’d,
  • That’t is too much for human race to know
  • The bliss of Heav’n above and earth below:1903: 271
  • Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great,
  • To match the blessings of the future state,
  • Those endless joys were ill exchanged for these:
  • Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.’
• • This Justin heard, nor could his spleen control,
  • Touch’d to the quick, and tickled at the soul.
  • ‘Sir Knight,’ he cried, ‘if this be all you dread,
  • Heav’n put it past a doubt whene’er you wed;
  • And to my fervent prayers so far consent,
  • That, ere the rites are o’er, you may repent!1903: 281
  • Good Heav’n, no doubt, the nuptial state approves,
  • Since it chastises still what best it loves.
• • ‘Then be not, Sir, abandon’d to despair; }
  • Seek, and perhaps you’ll find among the Fair }
  • One that may do your business to a hair; }
  • Not ev’n in wish your happiness delay,
  • But prove the scourge to lash you on your way:
  • Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go,
  • Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow!
  • Provided still, you moderate your joy,1903: 291
  • Nor in your pleasures all your might employ:
  • Let Reason’s rule your strong desires abate,
  • Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.
  • Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,
  • Who solve these questions beyond all dispute;
  • Consult with those, and be of better cheer;
  • Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.’
• • So said, they rose, nor more the work delay’d:
  • The match was offer’d, the proposals made.
  • The parents, you may think, would soon comply;1903: 301
  • The old have int’rest ever in their eye.
  • Nor was it hard to move the lady’s mind;
  • When Fortune favours, still the Fair are kind.
• • I pass each previous settlement and deed,
  • Too long for me to write, or you to read;
  • Nor will with quaint impertinence display
  • The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.
  • The time approach’d; to church the parties went,
  • At once with carnal and devout intent:
  • Forth came the priest, and bade th’ obedient wife1903: 311
  • Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life;
  • Then pray’d the Powers the fruitful bed to bless,
  • And make all sure enough with holiness.
• • And now the palace gates are open’d wide, }
  • The guests appear in order, side by side, }
  • And, placed in state, the bridegroom and the bride. }
  • The breathing flute’s soft notes are heard around,
  • And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound;
  • The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring,
  • These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string.1903: 321
  • Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre,
  • Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire,
  • Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly strain
  • Could swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train.
• • Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace,
  • (So poets sing) was present on the place:
  • And lovely Venus, Goddess of Delight, }
  • Shook high her flaming torch in open sight, }
  • And danced around, and smiled on ev’ry Knight:1903: 330 }
  • Pleas’d her best servant would his courage try,
  • No less in wedlock than in liberty.
  • Full many an age old Hymen had not spied
  • So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.
  • Ye Bards! renown’d among the tuneful throng
  • For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song,
  • Think not your softest numbers can display
  • The matchless glories of this blissful day;
  • Edition: current; Page: [40]
  • The joys are such as far transcend your range,
  • When tender youth has wedded stooping age.1903: 340
• • The beauteous dame sat smiling at the board,
  • And darted am’rous glances at her lord.
  • Not Hester’s self, whose charms the Hebrews sing,
  • E’er look’d so lovely on her Persian King:
  • Bright as the rising sun in summer’s day,
  • And fresh and blooming as the month of May!
  • The joyful knight survey’d her by his side,
  • Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride:
  • Still as his mind revolv’d with vast delight
  • Th’ entrancing raptures of th’ approaching night,1903: 350
  • Restless he sat, invoking every Power
  • To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.
  • Meantime the vig’rous dancers beat the ground,
  • And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round.
  • With od’rous spices they perfumed the place,
  • And mirth and pleasure shone in ev’ry face.
• • Damian alone, of all the menial train,
  • Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh’d for pain,
  • Damian alone, the Knight’s obsequious Squire,1903: 359
  • Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire.
  • His lovely mistress all his soul possess’d;
  • He look’d, he languish’d, and could take no rest:
  • His task perform’d, he sadly went his way,
  • Fell on his bed, and loath’d the light of day:
  • There let him lie; till his relenting dame
  • Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.
• • The weary sun, as learned poets write,
  • Forsook th’ horizon, and roll’d down the light;
  • While glitt’ring stars his absent beams supply,
  • And night’s dark mantle overspread the sky.1903: 370
  • Then rose the guests, and as the time required,
  • Each paid his thanks, and decently retired.
• • The foe once gone, our Knight prepared t’undress,
  • So keen he was, and eager to possess:
  • But first thought fit th’ assistance to receive,
  • Which grave physicians scruple not to give:
  • Satyrion near, with hot eringoes stood,
  • Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,
  • Whose use old Bards describe in luscious rhymes,
  • And Critics learn’d explain to modern times.1903: 380
• • By this the sheets were spread, the bride undress’d,
  • The room was sprinkled, and the bed was bless’d.
  • What next ensued beseems not me to say;
  • ’T is sung, he labour’d till the dawning day;
  • Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light, }
  • As all were nothing he had done by night, }
  • And sipp’d his cordial as he sat upright. }
  • He kiss’d his balmy spouse with wanton play,
  • And feebly sung a lusty roundelay:1903: 389
  • Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;
  • For ev’ry labour must have rest at last.
• • But anxious cares the pensive Squire opprest,
  • Sleep fled his eyes, and Peace forsook his breast;
  • The raging flames that in his bosom dwell,
  • He wanted art to hide, and means to tell:
  • Yet hoping time th’ occasion might betray,
  • Composed a sonnet to the lovely May;
  • Which, writ and folded with the nicest art,
  • He wrapt in silk, and laid upon his heart.
• • When now the fourth revolving day was run,1903: 400
  • (’T was June, and Cancer had receiv’d the sun)
  • Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride;
  • The good old Knight mov’d slowly by her side.
  • High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall;
  • The servants round stood ready at their call.
  • The Squire alone was absent from the board,
  • And much his sickness griev’d his worthy lord,
  • Who pray’d his spouse, attended with her train,
  • To visit Damian, and divert his pain.
  • Th’ obliging dames obey’d with one consent:1903: 410
  • They left the hall, and to his lodging went.
  • Edition: current; Page: [41]
  • The female tribe surround him as he lay,
  • And close beside him sat the gentle May:
  • Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drew
  • A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view!
  • Then gave his bill, and bribed the Powers divine,
  • With secret vows to favour his design.
• • Who studies now but discontented May?
  • On her soft couch uneasily she lay:
  • The lumpish husband snored away the night,1903: 420
  • Till coughs awaked him near the morning light.
  • What then he did, I ’ll not presume to tell,
  • Nor if she thought herself in Heav’n or Hell:
  • Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay,
  • Till the bell toll’d, and all arose to pray.
• • Were it by forceful Destiny decreed,
  • Or did from Chance, or Nature’s power proceed;
  • Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,
  • Shed its selectest influence from above;1903: 429
  • Whatever was the cause, the tender dame
  • Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
  • Receiv’d th’ impressions of the lovesick Squire,
  • And wasted in the soft infectious fire.
• • Ye Fair, draw near, let May’s example move
  • Your gentle minds to pity those who love!
  • Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found,
  • The poor adorer sure had hang’d or drown’d:
  • But she, your sex’s mirror, free from pride,
  • Was much too meek to prove a homicide.
• • But to my tale:—Some sages have defin’d1903: 440
  • Pleasure the sov’reign bliss of humankind:
  • Our Knight (who studied much, we may suppose)
  • Derived his high philosophy from those;
  • For, like a prince, he bore the vast expense
  • Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence:
  • His house was stately, his retinue gay.
  • Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.
  • His spacious garden, made to yield to none,
  • Was compass’d round with walls of solid stone;
  • Priapus could not half describe the grace
  • (Tho’ God of gardens) of this charming place:1903: 451
  • A place to tire the rambling wits of France
  • In long descriptions, and exceed Romance:
  • Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings
  • Of painted meadows, and of purling springs.
• • Full in the centre of the flowery ground }
  • A crystal fountain spread its streams around, }
  • The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown’d: }
  • About this spring (if ancient Fame say true)
  • The dapper Elves their moonlight sports pursue:1903: 460
  • Their pygmy King, and little fairy Queen,
  • In circling dances gambol’d on the green,
  • While tuneful sprites a merry concert made,
  • And airy music warbled thro’ the shade.
• • Hither the noble Knight would oft repair
  • (His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care);
  • For this he held it dear, and always bore
  • The silver key that lock’d the garden door.
  • To this sweet place in summer’s sultry heat
  • He used from noise and bus’ness to retreat;1903: 470
  • And here in dalliance spend the livelong day,
  • Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May:
  • For whate’er work was undischarg’d abed,
  • The duteous Knight in this fair garden sped.
• • But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure?
  • How short a space our worldly joys endure!
  • O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach’rous kind,
  • But faithless still, and wav’ring as the wind!
  • O painted monster, form’d mankind to cheat,1903: 479
  • With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit!
  • This rich, this am’rous, venerable Knight,
  • Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight,
  • Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief,
  • And calls on death, the wretch’s last relief.
• • The rage of jealousy then seiz’d his mind,
  • For much he fear’d the faith of womankind.
  • His wife, not suffer’d from his side to stray, }
  • Was captive kept; he watch’d her night and day, }
  • Abridg’d her pleasures, and confin’d her sway.1903: 489 }
  • Edition: current; Page: [42]
  • Full oft in tears did hapless May complain,
  • And sigh’d full oft; but sigh’d and wept in vain;
  • She look’d on Damian with a lover’s eye;
  • For oh, ’t was fix’d; she must possess or die!
  • Nor less impatience vex’d her am’rous Squire,
  • Wild with delay, and burning with desire.
  • Watch’d as she was, yet could he not refrain
  • By secret writing to disclose his pain:
  • The dame by signs reveal’d her kind intent,
  • Till both were conscious what each other meant,
• • Ah! gentle Knight, what would thy eyes avail,1903: 500
  • Tho’ they could see as far as ships can sail?
  • ’T is better, sure, when blind, deceiv’d to be,
  • Than be deluded when a man can see!
• • Argus himself, so cautious and so wise,
  • Was overwatch’d, for all his hundred eyes:
  • So many an honest husband may, ’t is known,
  • Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own.
• • The dame at last, by diligence and care,
  • Procured the key her Knight was wont to bear;1903: 509
  • She took the wards in wax before the fire,
  • And gave th’ impression to the trusty Squire.
  • By means of this some wonder shall appear,
  • Which, in due place and season, you may hear.
  • Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of yore,
  • What sleight is that which love will not explore!
  • And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show
  • The feats true lovers, when they list, can do:
  • Tho’ watch’d and captive, yet in spite of all,
  • They found the art of kissing thro’ a wall.
• • But now no longer from our tale to stray,1903: 520 }
  • It happ’d, that once upon a summer’s day }
  • Our rev’rend Knight was urged to am’rous play: }
  • He rais’d his spouse ere matin-bell was rung,
  • And thus his morning canticle he sung:
• • ‘Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes;
  • Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise!
  • Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain,
  • And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain:
  • The winter’s past; the clouds and tempests fly;
  • The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.1903: 530
  • Fair without spot, whose ev’ry charming part
  • My bosom wounds, and captivates my heart!
  • Come, and in mutual pleasures let’s engage,
  • Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.’
• • This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made
  • To haste before; the gentle Squire obey’d:
  • Secret and undescried he took his way,
  • And ambush’d close behind an arbour lay.
• • It was not long ere January came,
  • And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;1903: 540
  • Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,
  • He turn’d the key, and made the gate secure.
• • ‘Here let us walk,’ he said, ‘observ’d by none,
  • Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:
  • So may my soul have joy, as thou, my wife,
  • Art far the dearest solace of my life;
  • And rather would I choose, by Heav’n above,
  • To die this instant, than to lose thy love.
  • Reflect what truth was in my passion shown, }
  • When, unendow’d, I took thee for my own,1903: 550 }
  • And sought no treasure but thy heart alone. }
  • Old as I am, and now deprived of sight, }
  • Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true Knight, }
  • Nor age, nor blindness, robs me of delight. }
  • Each other loss with patience I can bear,
  • The loss of thee is what I only fear.
• • ‘Consider then, my lady and my wife,
  • The solid comforts of a virtuous life.
  • Edition: current; Page: [43]
  • As first, the love of Christ himself you gain;1903: 559
  • Next, your own honour undefiled maintain;
  • And, lastly, that which sure your mind must move,
  • My whole estate shall gratify your love:
  • Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow’s sun
  • Displays his light, by Heav’n it shall be done
  • I seal the contract with a holy kiss,
  • And will perform—by this, my dear, and this.
  • Have comfort, Spouse, nor think thy lord unkind;
  • ’T is love, not jealousy, that fires my mind:
  • For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage,1903: 569
  • And join’d to them my own unequal age,
  • From thy dear side I have no power to part,
  • Such secret transports warm my melting heart.
  • For who that once possess’d those heav’nly charms,
  • Could live one moment absent from thy arms?’
• • He ceas’d, and May with modest grace replied
  • (Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cried):
  • ‘Heav’n knows (with that a tender sigh she drew)
  • I have a soul to save as well as you;
  • And, what no less you to my charge commend,1903: 579
  • My dearest honour, will to death defend.
  • To you in holy church I gave my hand,
  • And join’d my heart in wedlock’s sacred band:
  • Yet after this, if you distrust my care,
  • Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear:
• • First may the yawning earth her bosom rend,
  • And let me hence to Hell alive descend;
  • Or die the death I dread no less than Hell,
  • Sew’d in a sack, and plunged into a well;
  • Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace,
  • Or once renounce the honour of my race.
  • For know, Sir Knight, of gentle blood I came;1903: 591
  • I loathe a whore, and startle at the name.
  • But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
  • And learn from thence their ladies to suspect:
  • Else why these needless cautions, Sir, to me?
  • These doubts and fears of female constancy?
  • This chime still rings in every lady’s ear,
  • The only strain a wife must hope to hear.’
• • Thus while she spoke a sidelong glance she cast,
  • Where Damain kneeling worship’d as she past.1903: 600
  • She saw him watch the motions of her eye,
  • And singled out a pear tree planted nigh:
  • ’T was charged with fruit that made a goodly show,
  • And hung with dangling pears was every bough.
  • Thither th’ obsequious Squire address’d his pace,
  • And climbing, in the summit took his place;
  • The Knight and Lady walk’d beneath in view,
  • Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.
• • ’T was now the season when the glorious sun
  • His heav’nly progress through the Twins had run;1903: 610
  • And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
  • To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields:
  • Clear was the day, and Phœbus, rising bright,
  • Had streak’d the azure firmament with light;
  • He pierc’d the glitt’ring clouds with golden streams,
  • And warm’d the womb of earth with genial beams.
• • It so befell, in that fair morning tide }
  • The fairies sported on the garden side, }
  • And in the midst their monarch and his bride. }
  • So featly tripp’d the light-foot Ladies round,1903: 620 }
  • The Knights so nimbly o’er the greensward bound, }
  • That scarce they bent the flowers, or touch’d the ground. }
  • The dances ended, all the fairy train
  • For pinks and daisies search’d the flowery plain,
  • While on a bank reclin’d of rising green,
  • Thus, with a frown, the King bespoke his Queen.
• Edition: current; Page: [44]
• • ‘ ’T is too apparent, argue what you can,
  • The treachery you women use to man:
  • A thousand authors have this truth made out,
  • And sad experience leaves no room for doubt.1903: 630
• • ‘Heav’n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,
  • A wiser Monarch never saw the sun:
  • All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree
  • Of earthly bliss, was well bestow’d on thee!
  • For sagely hast thou said, “Of all mankind,
  • One only just, and righteous, hope to find:
  • But shouldst thou search the spacious world around,
  • Yet one good woman is not to be found.”
• • ‘Thus says the King who knew your wickedness;
  • The son of Sirach testifies no less.1903: 640
  • So may some wildfire on your bodies fall,
  • Or some devouring plague consume you all;
  • As well you view the lecher in the tree,
  • And well this honourable Knight you see:
  • But since he’s blind and old (a helpless case),
  • His Squire shall cuckold him before your face.
• • ‘Now by my own dread Majesty I swear,
  • And by this awful sceptre which I bear,
  • No impious wretch shall ’scape unpunish’d long,1903: 649
  • That in my presence offers such a wrong.
  • I will this instant undeceive the Knight,
  • And in the very act restore his sight:
  • And set the strumpet here in open view, }
  • A warning to the ladies, and to you, }
  • And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.” }
• • ‘And will you so,’ replied the Queen, ‘indeed? }
  • Now, by my mother’s soul, it is decreed, }
  • She shall not want an answer at her need. }
  • For her, and for her daughters, I ’ll engage,
  • And all the sex in each succeeding age;1903: 660
  • Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,
  • And fortify their crimes with confidence.
  • Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,
  • Seen with both eyes, and pinion’d on the place;
  • All they shall need is to protest and swear,
  • Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;
  • Till their wise husbands, gull’d by arts like these,
  • Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.
• • ‘What tho’ this sland’rous Jew, this Solomon,
  • Call’d women fools, and knew full many a one?1903: 670
  • The wiser Wits of later times declare
  • How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are:
  • Witness the Martyrs, who resign’d their breath,
  • Serene in torments, unconcern’d in death;
  • And witness next what Roman authors tell,
  • How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.
• • ‘But since the sacred leaves to all are free,
  • And men interpret texts, why should not we?
  • By this no more was meant than to have shown }
  • That sov’reign goodness dwells in him alone,1903: 680 }
  • Who only Is, and is but only One. }
  • But grant the worst; shall women then be weigh’d
  • By every word that Solomon hath said?
  • What tho’ this king (as ancient story boasts)
  • Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts;
  • He ceas’d at last his Maker to adore,
  • And did as much for idol Gods, or more.
  • Beware what lavish praises you confer
  • On a rank lecher and idolater;
  • Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ,1903: 690
  • Did but for David’s righteous sake permit;
  • David, the monarch after Heav’n’s own mind,
  • Who lov’d our sex, and honour’d all our kind.
• • ‘Well, I ’m a woman, and as such must speak;
  • Silence would swell me, and my heart would break.
  • Know, then, I scorn your dull authorities,
  • Your idle Wits, and all their learned lies:
  • By Heav’n, those authors are our sex’s foes,
  • Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose.’
• • ‘Nay (quoth the King) dear madam, be not wroth:1903: 700
  • I yield it up; but since I gave my oath,
  • That this much injur’d Knight again should see,
  • It must be done—I am a King,’ said he,
  • Edition: current; Page: [45]
  • ‘And one whose faith has ever sacred been—’
• • ‘And so has mine (she said)—I am a Queen:
  • Her answer she shall have, I undertake;
  • And thus an end of all dispute I make.
  • Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord,
  • It is not in our sex to break our word.’1903: 709
• • We leave them here in this heroic strain,
  • And to the Knight our story turns again;
  • Who in the garden, with his lovely May,
  • Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay:
  • This was his song, ‘O kind and constant be,
  • Constant and kind I ’ll ever prove to thee.’
• • Thus singing as he went, at last he drew
  • By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew:
  • The longing dame look’d up, and spied her love
  • Full fairly perch’d among the boughs above.
  • She stopp’d, and sighing, ‘O good Gods!’ she cried,1903: 720
  • ‘What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side?
  • O for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green!
  • Help, for the love of Heav’n’s immortal Queen!
  • Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life
  • Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!’
• • Sore sigh’d the Knight to hear his lady’s cry,
  • But could not climb, and had no servant nigh:
  • Old as he was, and void of eyesight too,
  • What could, alas! a helpless husband do?
  • ‘And must I languish then (she said), and die,1903: 730
  • Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
  • At least, kind Sir, for charity’s sweet sake,
  • Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take,
  • Then from your back I might ascend the tree;
  • Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.’
• • ‘With all my soul,’ he thus replied again,
  • ‘I ’d spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.’
  • With that his back against the trunk he bent;
  • She seiz’d a twig, and up the tree she went.
• • Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!1903: 740
  • Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
  • ’T is truth I tell, tho’ not in phrase refin’d;
  • Tho’ blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind.
  • What feats the lady in the tree might do,
  • I pass, as gambols never known to you;
  • But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
  • Than in her life she ever felt before.
• • In that nice moment, lo! the wond’ring Knight
  • Look’d out, and stood restor’d to sudden sight.1903: 749
  • Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
  • As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent:
  • But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress’d,
  • His rage was such as cannot be express’d.
  • Not frantic mothers when their infants die
  • With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:
  • He cried, he roar’d, he storm’d, he tore his hair;
  • ‘Death! Hell! and Furies! what dost thou do there?’
• • ‘What ails my lord?’ the trembling dame replied,
  • ‘I thought your patience had been better tried:1903: 759
  • Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind,
  • This my reward for having cured the blind?
  • Why was I taught to make my husband see,
  • By struggling with a man upon a tree?
  • Did I for this the power of magic prove?
  • Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!’
• • ‘If this be struggling, by this holy light,
  • ’T is struggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight):
  • So Heav’n preserve the sight it has restored,
  • As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored;
  • Whored by my slave—perfidious wretch! may Hell1903: 770
  • As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.’
• • ‘Guard me, good Angels!’ cried the gentle May,
  • ‘Pray Heav’n this magic work the proper way!
  • Alas, my love! ’t is certain, could you see,
  • You ne’er had used these killing words to me:
  • Edition: current; Page: [46]
  • So help me, Fates! as ’t is no perfect sight,
  • But some faint glimm’ring of a doubtful light.’
• • ‘What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain,
  • For by th’ immortal Powers it seem’d too plain—’
• • ‘By all those Powers, some frenzy seiz’d your mind1903: 780 }
  • (Replied the dame): are these the thanks I find? }
  • Wretch that I am, that e’er I was so kind!’ }
  • She said; a rising sigh express’d her woe,
  • The ready tears apace began to flow,
  • And as they fell she wiped from either eye
  • The drops (for women, when they list, can cry).
• • The Knight was touch’d; and in his looks appear’d
  • Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer’d;
  • ‘Madam, ’t is past, and my short anger o’er!
  • Come down, and vex your tender heart no more.1903: 790
  • Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said,
  • For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made:
  • Let my repentance your forgiveness draw;
  • By Heav’n, I swore but what I thought I saw.’
  • ‘Ah, my lov’d lord! ’t was much unkind (she cried)
  • On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride.
  • But till your sight ’s establish’d, for a while
  • Imperfect objects may your sense beguile.
  • Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display, }
  • The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,1903: 800 }
  • And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the day; }
  • So just recov’ring from the shades of night }
  • Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light, }
  • Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight. }
  • Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;
  • Heav’n knows how seldom things are what they seem!
  • Consult your reason, and you soon shall find
  • ’T was you were jealous, not your wife unkind:
  • Jove ne’er spoke oracle more true than this,
  • None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.’1903: 810
• • With that she leap’d into her lord’s embrace,
  • With well dissembled virtue in her face.
  • He hugg’d her close, and kiss’d her o’er and o’er,
  • Disturb’d with doubts and jealousies no more:
  • Both pleas’d and bless’d, renew’d their mutual vows:
  • A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.
  • Thus ends our tale; whose moral next to make,
  • Let all wise husbands hence example take;
  • And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
  • To be so well deluded by their wives.1903: 820

THE WIFE OF BATH
HER PROLOGUE

Not published until 1714, but naturally classified with January and May, and not improbably the product of the same period.

• • Behold the woes of matrimonial life,
  • And hear with rev’rence an experienced wife;
  • To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
  • And think for once a woman tells you true.
  • In all these trials I have borne a part:
  • I was myself the scourge that caus’d the smart;
  • For since fifteen in triumph have I led
  • Five captive husbands from the church to bed.
  • Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says,
  • And saw but one, ’t was thought, in all his days;1903: 10
  • Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice,
  • No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
• • But let them read, and solve me if they can,
  • The words address’d to the Samaritan:
  • Five times in lawful wedlock she was join’d,
  • And sure the certain stint was ne’er defin’d.
• Edition: current; Page: [47]
• • ‘Increase and multiply’ was Heav’n’s command,
  • And that ’s a text I clearly understand:
  • This too, ‘Let men their sires and mothers leave,1903: 19
  • And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.’
  • More wives than one by Solomon were tried,
  • Or else the wisest of mankind’s belied.
  • I’ve had myself full many a merry fit,
  • And trust in Heav’n I may have many yet;
  • For when my transitory spouse, unkind, }
  • Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, }
  • I’ll take the next good Christian I can find. }
• • Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
  • Declared ’t was better far to wed than burn.
  • There ’s danger in assembling fire and tow;
  • I grant ’em that; and what it means you know.1903: 31
  • The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own’d
  • No precept for virginity he found:
  • ’T is but a counsel—and we women still
  • Take which we like, the counsel or our will.
• • I envy not their bliss, if he or she
  • Think fit to live in perfect chastity:
  • Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice;
  • I for a few slight spots am not so nice.
  • Heav’n calls us diff’rent ways; on these bestows1903: 40
  • One proper gift, another grants to those;
  • Not every man’s obliged to sell his store,
  • And give up all his substance to the poor:
  • Such as are perfect may, I can’t deny;
  • But by your leaves, Divines! so am not I.
• • Full many a saint, since first the world began,
  • Liv’d an unspotted maid in spite of man:
  • Let such (a God’s name) with fine wheat be fed,
  • And let us honest wives eat barley bread.
  • For me, I’ll keep the post assign’d by Heav’n,1903: 50
  • And use the copious talent it has giv’n:
  • Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right,
  • And keep an equal reck’ning every night;
  • His proper body is not his, but mine;
  • For so said Paul, and Paul’s a sound divine.
  • Know then, of those five husbands I have had,
  • Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
  • The three were old, but rich and fond beside,
  • And toil’d most piteously to please their bride;
  • But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine,1903: 60
  • The rest without much loss I could resign:
  • Sure to be lov’d, I took no pains to please,
  • Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease.
• • Presents flow’d in apace: with showers of gold
  • They made their court, like Jupiter of old:
  • If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found,
  • And a new palsy seiz’d them when I frown’d.
• • Ye sov’reign Wives! give ear, and understand:
  • Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command;
  • For never was it giv’n to mortal man1903: 70
  • To lie so boldly as we women can:
  • Forswear the fact, tho’ seen with both his eyes,
  • And call your maids to witness how he lies.
• • Hark, old Sir Paul! (’t was thus I used to say)
  • Whence is our neighbour’s wife so rich and gay?
  • Treated, caress’d, where’er she’s pleas’d to roam—
  • I sit in tatters, and immured at home.
  • Why to her house dost thou so oft repair?
  • Art thou so am’rous? and is she so fair?
  • If I but see a cousin or a friend,1903: 80
  • Lord! how you swell and rage like any fiend!
  • But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear,
  • Then preach till midnight in your easy chair;
  • Cry, wives are false, and every woman evil,
  • And give up all that’s female to the devil.
• • If poor (you say), she drains her husband’s purse;
  • If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse;
  • If highly born, intolerably vain,
  • Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain;
  • Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic,1903: 90
  • Freakish when well, and fretful when she ’s sick.
  • If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide,
  • By pressing youth attack’d on every side;
  • If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures,
  • Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures,
  • Edition: current; Page: [48]
  • Or else she dances with becoming grace,
  • Or shape excuses the defects of face.
  • There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late
  • She finds some honest gander for her mate.
• • Horses (thou say’st) and asses men may try,1903: 100
  • And ring suspected vessels ere they buy;
  • But wives, a random choice, untried they take,
  • They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake;
  • Then, not till then, the veil’s remov’d away,
  • And all the woman glares in open day.
• • You tell me, to preserve your wife’s good grace,
  • Your eyes must always languish on my face,
  • Your tongue with constant flatt’ries feed my ear,
  • And tag each sentence with ‘My life! my dear!’
  • If by strange chance a modest blush be rais’d,1903: 110
  • Be sure my fine complexion must be prais’d.
  • My garments always must be new and gay,
  • And feasts still kept upon my wedding day.
  • Then must my nurse be pleas’d, and fav’rite maid;
  • And endless treats and endless visits paid
  • To a long train of kindred, friends, allies:
  • All this thou say’st, and all thou say’st are lies.
• • On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye:
  • What! can your ’prentice raise your jealousy?
  • Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair,1903: 120
  • And like the burnish’d gold his curling hair.
  • But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow;
  • I’d scorn your ’prentice should you die tomorrow.
• • Why are thy chests all lock’d? on what design?
  • Are not thy worldly goods and treasure mine?
  • Sir, I’m no fool; nor shall you, by St. John,
  • Have goods and body to yourself alone.
  • One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes—
  • I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies.
  • If you had wit, you ’d say, ‘Go where you will,1903: 130
  • Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell:
  • Take all the freedoms of a married life;
  • I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.’
• • Lord! when you have enough, what need you care
  • How merrily soever others fare?
  • Tho’ all the day I give and take delight,
  • Doubt not sufficient will be left at night.
  • ’T is but a just and rational desire
  • To light a taper at a neighbour’s fire.
  • There ’s danger too, you think, in rich array,1903: 140
  • And none can long be modest that are gay.
  • The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin,
  • The chimney keeps, and sits content within:
  • But once grown sleek, will from her corner run,
  • Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun:
  • She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad
  • To show her fur, and to be catterwaw’d.
• • Lo thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires
  • These three right ancient venerable sires.
  • I told them, Thus you say, and thus you do;1903: 150
  • And told them false, but Jenkin swore ’t was true.
  • I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine,
  • And first complain’d whene’er the guilt was mine.
  • I tax’d them oft with wenching and amours,
  • When their weak legs scarce dragg’d them out of doors;
  • And swore the rambles that I took by night
  • Were all to spy what damsels they bedight:
  • That colour brought me many hours of mirth;
  • For all this wit is giv’n us from our birth.
  • Heav’n gave to woman the peculiar grace
  • To spin, to weep, and cully human race.1903: 161
  • By this nice conduct and this prudent course,
  • By murm’ring, wheedling, stratagem, and force,
  • I still prevail’d, and would be in the right;
  • Or curtain lectures made a restless night.
  • If once my husband’s arm was o’er my side,
  • ‘What! so familiar with your spouse?’ I cried:
  • I levied first a tax upon his need;
  • Then let him—’t was a nicety indeed!
  • Let all mankind this certain maxim hold;
  • Marry who will, our sex is to be sold.1903: 171
  • With empty hands no tassels you can lure,
  • But fulsome love for gain we can endure;
  • Edition: current; Page: [49]
  • For gold we love the impotent and old,
  • And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold.
  • Yet with embraces curses oft I mixt,
  • Then kiss’d again, and chid, and rail’d betwixt.
  • Well, I may make my will in peace, and die,
  • For not one word in man’s arrears am I.
  • To drop a dear dispute I was unable,1903: 180
  • Ev’n though the Pope himself had sat at table;
  • But when my point was gain’d, then thus I spoke:
  • ‘Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look!
  • Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek;
  • Thou shouldst be always thus resign’d and meek!
  • Of Job’s great patience since so oft you preach,
  • Well should you practise who so well can teach.
  • ’T is difficult to do, I must allow,
  • But I, my dearest! will instruct you how.
  • Great is the blessing of a prudent wife,1903: 190
  • Who puts a period to domestic strife.
  • One of us two must rule, and one obey; }
  • And since in man right Reason bears the sway, }
  • Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way. }
  • The wives of all my family have ruled
  • Their tender husbands, and their passions cool’d.
  • Fie! ’t is unmanly thus to sigh and groan:
  • What! would you have me to yourself alone?
  • Why, take me, love! take all and every part!
  • Here ’s your revenge! you love it at your heart.1903: 200
  • Would I vouchsafe to sell what Nature gave,
  • You little think what custom I could have.
  • But see! I ’m all your own—nay hold—for shame!
  • What means my dear?—indeed—you are to blame.’
• • Thus with my first three lords I pass’d my life,
  • A very woman and a very wife.
  • What sums from these old spouses I could raise
  • Procur’d young husbands in my riper days.
  • Tho’ past my bloom, not yet decay’d was I,1903: 209
  • Wanton and wild, and chatter’d like a pie.
  • In country dances still I bore the bell,
  • And sung as sweet as ev’ning Philomel.
  • To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul,
  • Full oft I drain’d the spicy nut-brown bowl;
  • Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve,
  • And warm the swelling veins to feats of love:
  • For ’t is as sure as cold engenders hail,
  • A liquorish mouth must have a lech’rous tail:
  • Wine lets no lover unrewarded go,1903: 219
  • As all true gamesters by experience know.
• • But oh, good Gods! whene’er a thought I cast
  • On all the joys of youth and beauty past,
  • To find in pleasures I have had my part
  • Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.
  • This wicked world was once my dear delight;
  • Now all my conquests, all my charms, good night!
  • The flour consumed, the best that now I can
  • Is ev’n to make my market of the bran.
• • My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true;
  • He kept, ’t was thought, a private miss or two;1903: 230
  • But all that score I paid—As how? you ’ll say:
  • Not with my body, in a filthy way;
  • But I so dress’d, and danc’d, and drank, and din’d
  • And view’d a friend with eyes so very kind,
  • As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry,
  • With burning rage and frantic jealousy.
  • His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory,
  • For here on earth I was his purgatory.
  • Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung,1903: 239
  • He put on careless airs, and sat and sung.
  • How sore I gall’d him only Heav’n could know,
  • And he that felt, and I that caus’d the woe.
  • He died when last from pilgrimage I came,
  • With other gossips, from Jerusalem;
  • And now lies buried underneath a rood,
  • Fair to be seen, and rear’d of honest wood:
  • Edition: current; Page: [50]
  • A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures graced
  • Than that Mausolus’ pious widow placed,
  • Or where enshrin’d the great Darius lay;
  • But cost on graves is merely thrown away.
  • The pit fill’d up, with turf we cover’d o’er;
  • So bless the good man’s soul! I say no more.1903: 252
• • Now for my fifth lov’d lord, the last and best;
  • (Kind Heav’n afford him everlasting rest!)
  • Full hearty was his love, and I can show
  • The tokens on my ribs in black and blue;
  • Yet with a knack my heart he could have won,
  • While yet the smart was shooting in the bone.
  • How quaint an appetite in women reigns!
  • Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us pains.1903: 260
  • Let men avoid us, and on them we leap;
  • A glutted market makes provision cheap.
• • In pure good will I took this jovial spark,
  • Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk.
  • He boarded with a widow in the town,
  • A trusty gossip, one dame Alison;
  • Full well the secrets of my soul she knew,
  • Better than e’er our parish priest could do.
  • To her I told whatever could befall:1903: 269
  • Had but my husband piss’d against a wall,
  • Or done a thing that might have cost his life,
  • She—and my niece—and one more worthy wife,
  • Had known it all: what most he would conceal,
  • To these I made no scruple to reveal.
  • Oft has he blush’d from ear to ear for shame
  • That e’er he told a secret to his dame.
• • It so befell, in holy time of Lent,
  • That oft a day I to this gossip went;
  • (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town)
  • From house to house we rambled up and down,1903: 280
  • This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour Alse,
  • To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales.
  • Visits to every church we daily paid,
  • And march’d in every holy masquerade;
  • The stations duly and the vigils kept;
  • Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept.
  • At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: }
  • The wasting moth ne’er spoil’d my best array; }
  • The cause was this, I wore it every day. }
• • ’Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields,1903: 290
  • This clerk and I were walking in the fields.
  • We grew so intimate, I can’t tell how,
  • I pawn’d my honour, and engaged my vow,
  • If e’er I laid my husband in his urn,
  • That he, and only he, should serve my turn.
  • We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed;
  • I still have shifts against a time of need.
  • The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole
  • Can never be a mouse of any soul.
• • I vow’d I scarce could sleep since first I knew him,1903: 300
  • And durst be sworn he had bewitch’d me to him;
  • If e’er I slept I dream’d of him alone, }
  • And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown. }
  • All this I said; but dreams, Sirs, I had none: }
  • I follow’d but my crafty crony’s lore,
  • Who bid me tell this lie—and twenty more.
• • Thus day by day, and month by month we past;
  • It pleas’d the Lord to take my spouse at last.
  • I tore my gown, I soil’d my locks with dust,
  • And beat my breasts, as wretched widows—must.1903: 310
  • Before my face my handkerchief I spread,
  • To hide the flood of tears I—did not shed.
  • The good man’s coffin to the church was borne;
  • Around the neighbours and my clerk too mourn.
  • But as he march’d, good Gods! he show’d a pair
  • Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair!
  • Of twenty winters’ age he seem’d to be;
  • I (to say truth) was twenty more than he;
  • But vig’rous still, a lively buxom dame,1903: 319
  • And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame.
  • A conjurer once, that deeply could divine,
  • Assur’d me Mars in Taurus was my sign.
  • As the stars order’d, such my life has been:
  • Alas, alas! that ever love was sin!
  • Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace,
  • And Mars assurance and a dauntless face.
  • Edition: current; Page: [51]
  • By virtue of this powerful constellation,
  • I follow’d always my own inclination.
• • But to my tale:—A month scarce pass’d away,
  • With dance and song we kept the nuptial day.1903: 330
  • All I possess’d I gave to his command,
  • My goods and chattels, money, house, and land;
  • But oft repented, and repent it still;
  • He prov’d a rebel to my sov’reign will;
  • Nay, once, by Heav’n! he struck me on the face:
  • Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case.
• • Stubborn as any lioness was I,
  • And knew full well to raise my voice on high;
  • As true a rambler as I was before,
  • And would be so in spite of all he swore.1903: 340
  • He against this right sagely would advise,
  • And old examples set before my eyes;
  • Tell how the Roman matrons led their life,
  • Of Gracehus’ mother, and Duilius’ wife;
  • And close the sermon, as beseem’d his wit,
  • With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ.
  • Oft would he say, ‘Who builds his house on sands,
  • Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands,
  • Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam,
  • Deserves a fool’s-cap and long ears at home.’1903: 350
  • All this avail’d not, for whoe’er he be
  • That tells my faults, I hate him mortally!
  • And so do numbers more, I’ll boldly say,
  • Men, women, clergy, regular and lay.
• • My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred)
  • A certain treatise oft at evening read,
  • Where divers authors (whom the devil confound
  • For all their lies) were in one volume bound:
  • Valerius whole, and of St. Jerome part;
  • Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid’s Art,1903: 360
  • Solomon’s Proverbs, Eloisa’s loves,
  • And many more than sure the church approves.
  • More legends were there here of wicked wives
  • Than good in all the Bible and saints’ lives.
  • Who drew the lion vanquish’d? ’T was a man:
  • But could we women write as scholars can,
  • Men should stand mark’d with far more wickedness
  • Than all the sons of Adam could redress.
  • Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies,
  • And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.1903: 370
  • Those play the scholars who can’t play the men,
  • And use that weapon which they have, their pen;
  • When old, and past the relish of delight,
  • Then down they sit, and in their dotage write
  • That not one woman keeps her marriagevow.
  • (This by the way, but to my purpose now.)
• • It chanc’d my husband, on a winter’s night,
  • Read in this book aloud with strange delight,
  • How the first female (as the Scriptures show)
  • Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe;1903: 380
  • How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire
  • Wrapp’d in th’ envenom’d shirt, and set on fire;
  • How curs’d Eriphyle her lord betray’d,
  • And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid;
  • But what most pleas’d him was the Cretan dame
  • And husband-bull—Oh, monstrous! fie, for shame!
• • He had by heart the whole detail of woe
  • Xantippe made her good man undergo;
  • How oft she scolded in a day he knew,1903: 389
  • How many pisspots on the sage she threw—
  • Who took it patiently, and wiped his head:
  • ‘Rain follows thunder,’ that was all he said.
• • He read how Arius to his friend complain’d
  • A fatal tree was growing in his land,
  • On which three wives successively had twin’d
  • A sliding noose, and waver’d in the wind.
  • ‘Where grows this plant,’ replied the friend, ‘oh where?
  • For better fruit did never orchard bear:
  • Give me some slip of this most blissful tree,
  • And in my garden planted it shall be.’1903: 400
• • Then how two wives their lords’ destruction prove,
  • Thro’ hatred one, and one thro’ too much love;
  • Edition: current; Page: [52]
  • That for her husband mix’d a pois’nous draught,
  • And this for lust an am’rous philtre bought;
  • The nimble juice soon seiz’d his giddy head,
  • Frantic at night, and in the morning dead.
• • How some with swords their sleeping lords have slain,
  • And some have hammer’d nails into their brain,
  • And some have drench’d them with a deadly potion:
  • All this he read, and read with great devotion.1903: 410
• • Long time I heard, and swell’d, and blush’d, and frown’d;
  • But when no end of these vile tales I found,
  • When still he read, and laugh’d, and read again,
  • And half the night was thus consumed in vain,
  • Provoked to vengeance, three large leaves I tore,
  • And with one buffet fell’d him on the floor.
  • With that my husband in a fury rose,
  • And down he settled me with hearty blows.
  • I groan’d, and lay extended on my side;
  • ‘Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth,’ I cried!1903: 420
  • ‘Yet I forgive thee—take my last embrace’—
  • He wept, kind soul! and stoop’d to kiss my face:
  • I took him such a box as turn’d him blue,
  • Then sigh’d and cried, ‘Adieu, my dear, adieu!’
• • But after many a hearty struggle past,
  • I condescended to be pleas’d at last.
  • Soon as he said, ‘My mistress and my wife!
  • Do what you list the term of all your life;’
  • I took to heart the merits of the cause,
  • And stood content to rule by wholesome laws;1903: 430
  • Receiv’d the reins of absolute command, }
  • With all the government of house and land, }
  • And empire o’er his tongue and o’er his hand. }
  • As for the volume that revil’d the dames,
  • ’T was torn to fragments, and condemn’d to flames.
• • Now Heav’n on all my husbands gone bestow
  • Pleasures above for tortures felt below:
  • That rest they wish’d for grant them in the grave,
  • And bless those souls my conduct help’d to save!

THE TEMPLE OF FAME[ ]

Pope asserted that this poem was composed in 1711. Its date of publication is indicated by a letter from Pope to Martha Blount, written in 1714, in which he speaks of it as ‘just out.’ Eventually it was classed by the poet as a ‘juvenile poem’ among the earlier translations and imitations. This Advertisement was prefixed:—

The hint of the following piece was taken from Chaucer’s House of Fame. The design is in a manner entirely altered; the descriptions and most of the particular thoughts my own: yet I could not suffer it to be printed without this acknowledgment. The reader who would compare this with Chaucer, may begin with his third Book of Fame, there being nothing in the two first books that answers to their title.

• • In that soft season, when descending showers
  • Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers,
  • When opening buds salute the welcome day,
  • And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
  • As balmy sleep had charm’d my cares to rest,
  • And love itself was banish’d from my breast,
  • (What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
  • While purer slumbers spread their golden wings)
  • A train of phantoms in wild order rose,1903: 9
  • And join’d, this intellectual scene compose.
• • I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies,
  • The whole Creation open to my eyes;
  • In air self-balanced hung the globe below,
  • Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;
  • Here naked rocks and empty wastes were seen,
  • There towery cities, and the forests green;
  • Edition: current; Page: [53]
  • Here sailing ships delight the wand’ring eyes,
  • There trees and intermingled temples rise:
  • Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
  • The transient landscape now in clouds decays.1903: 20
• • O’er the wide prospect as I gazed around,
  • Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,
  • Like broken thunders that at distance roar,
  • Or billows murm’ring on the hollow shore:
  • Then gazing up, a glorious Pile beheld,
  • Whose tow’ring summit ambient clouds conceal’d;
  • High on a rock of ice the structure lay,
  • Steep its ascent, and slipp’ry was the way;
  • The wondrous rock like Parian marble shone,1903: 29
  • And seem’d, to distant sight, of solid stone.
  • Inscriptions here of various names I view’d,
  • The greater part by hostile time subdued;
  • Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,
  • And poets once had promis’d they should last.
  • Some fresh engraved appear’d of wits renown’d;
  • I look’d again, nor could their trace be found.
  • Critics I saw, that other names deface,
  • And fix their own with labour, in their place:
  • Their own, like others, soon their place resign’d,
  • Or disappear’d and left the first behind.1903: 40
  • Nor was the work impair’d by storms alone,
  • But felt th’ approaches of too warm a sun;
  • For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays
  • Not more by envy than excess of praise.
  • Yet part no injuries of Heav’n could feel,
  • Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
  • The rock’s high summit, in the temple’s shade,
  • Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
  • Their names inscribed unnumber’d ages past
  • From Time’s first birth, with Time itself shall last:1903: 50
  • These ever new, nor subject to decays,
  • Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
• • So Zembla’s rocks (the beauteous work of frost)
  • Rise white in air, and glitter o’er the coast;
  • Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away,
  • And on th’ impassive ice the lightnings play;
  • Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
  • Till the bright mountains prop th’ incumbent sky:
  • As Atlas fix’d, each hoary pile appears,1903: 59
  • The gather’d winter of a thousand years.
• • On this foundation Fame’s high temple stands;
  • Stupendous pile! not rear’d by mortal hands.
  • Whate’er proud Rome or artful Greece beheld,
  • Or elder Babylon, its frame excell’d.
  • Four faces had the dome, and ev’ry face
  • Of various structure, but of equal grace:
  • Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high,
  • Salute the diff’rent quarters of the sky.
  • Here fabled Chiefs in darker ages born,
  • Or Worthies old whom Arms or Arts adorn,1903: 70
  • Who cities raised or tamed a monstrous race,
  • The walls in venerable order grace:
  • Heroes in animated marble frown,
  • And Legislators seem to think in stone.
• • Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece appear’d,
  • On Doric pillars of white marble rear’d,
  • Crown’d with an architrave of antique mould,
  • And sculpture rising on the roughen’d gold.
  • In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld,
  • And Perseus dreadful with Minerva’s shield:1903: 80
  • There great Alcides, stooping with his toil,
  • Rests on his club, and holds th’ Hesperian spoil:
  • Here Orpheus sings; trees moving to the sound
  • Start from their roots, and form a shade around:
  • Amphion there the loud creating lyre
  • Strikes, and beholds a sudden Thebes aspire;
  • Cithæron’s echoes answer to his call,
  • And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
  • There might you see the length’ning spires ascend,
  • The domes swell up, and widening arches bend,1903: 90
  • The growing towers, like exhalations, rise,
  • And the huge columns heave into the skies.
• • The eastern front was glorious to behold,
  • With diamond flaming, and barbaric gold.
  • There Ninus shone, who spread th’ Assyrian fame,
  • And the great founder of the Persian name;
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  • There in long robes the royal Magi stand,
  • Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand;
  • The sage Chaldeans robed in white appear’d,
  • And Brahmans, deep in desert woods revered.1903: 100
  • These stopp’d the moon, and call’ th’ unbodied shades
  • To midnight banquets in the glimm’ring glades;
  • Made visionary fabrics round them rise,
  • And airy spectres skim before their eyes;
  • Of talismans and sigils knew the power,
  • And careful watch’d the planetary hour.
  • Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
  • Who taught that useful science,—to be good.
• • But on the south, a long majestic race1903: 109
  • Of Egypt’s priests the gilded niches grace,
  • Who measured earth, described the starry spheres,
  • And traced the long records of Lunar Years.
  • High on his car Sesostris struck my view,
  • Whom sceptred slaves in golden harness drew:
  • His hands a bow and pointed jav’lin hold;
  • His giant limbs are arm’d in scales of gold.
  • Between the statues obelisks were placed,
  • And the learn’d walls with hieroglyphics graced.
• • Of Gothic structure was the northern side,
  • O’erwrought with ornaments of barb’rous pride.1903: 120
  • There huge Colosses rose, with trophies crown’d,
  • And Runic characters were graved around;
  • There sat Zamolxis with erected eyes,
  • And Odin here in mimic trances dies.
  • There on rude iron columns, smear’d with blood,
  • The horrid forms of Scythian Heroes stood,
  • Druids and Bards (their once loud harps unstrung)
  • And youths that died to be by poets sung.
  • These and a thousand more of doubtful fame,
  • To whom old fables gave a lasting name,1903: 130
  • In ranks adorn’d the temple’s outward face;
  • The wall in lustre and effect like glass,
  • Which o’er each object casting various dyes,
  • Enlarges some, and others multiplies;
  • Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall,
  • For thus romantic Fame increases all.
• • The temple shakes, the sounding gates unfold,
  • Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold,
  • Rais’d on a thousand pillars, wreath’d around
  • With laurel foliage, and with eagles crown’d.1903: 140
  • Of bright transparent beryl were the walls,
  • The friezes gold, and gold the capitals;
  • As Heav’n with stars, the roof with jewels glows,
  • And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
  • Full in the passage of each spacious gate
  • The sage Historians in white garments wait;
  • Graved o’er their seats the form of Time was found,
  • His scythe revers’d, and both his pinions bound.
  • Within stood Heroes, who thro’ loud alarms
  • In bloody fields pursued renown in arms.
  • High on a throne, with trophies charged, I view’d1903: 151
  • The youth that all things but himself subdued;
  • His feet on sceptres and tiaras trod,
  • And his horn’d head belied the Libyan God,
  • There Cæsar, graced with both Minervas, shone;
  • Cæsar, the world’s great master, and his own;
  • Unmov’d, superior still in ev’ry state,
  • And scarce detested in his country’s fate.
  • But chief were those who not for empire fought,
  • But with their toils their people’s safety bought:1903: 160
  • High o’er the rest Epaminondas stood;
  • Timoleon, glorious in his brother’s blood;
  • Bold Scipio, saviour of the Roman state,
  • Great in his triumphs, in retirement great;
  • And wise Aurelius, in whose well-taught mind }
  • With boundless power unbounded virtue join’d, }
  • His own strict judge, and patron of mankind. }
• • Much-suff’ring heroes next their honours claim.
  • Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame,
  • Fair Virtue’s silent train: supreme of these1903: 170
  • Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
  • Edition: current; Page: [55]
  • He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
  • At all times just, but when he sign’d the shell:
  • Here his abode the martyr’d Phocion claims,
  • With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:
  • Unconquer’d Cato shows the wound he tore,
  • And Brutus his ill genius meets no more.
• • But in the centre of the hallow’d choir
  • Six pompous columns o’er the rest aspire:
  • Around the shrine itself of Fame they stand,1903: 180
  • Hold the chief honours and the fane command.
  • High on the first the mighty Homer shone;
  • Eternal adamant composed his throne;
  • Father of verse! in holy fillets drest,
  • His silver beard waved gently o’er his breast;
  • Tho’ blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
  • In years he seem’d, but not impair’d by years.
  • The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen;
  • Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;1903: 189
  • Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus’ fall,
  • Here, dragg’d in triumph round the Trojan wall.
  • Motion and life did ev’ry part inspire,
  • Bold was the work, and prov’d the master’s fire:
  • A strong expression most he seem’d t’ affect,
  • And here and there disclosed a brave neglect.
• • A golden column next in rank appear’d,
  • On which a shrine of purest gold was rear’d;
  • Finish’d the whole, and labour’d ev’ry part,
  • With patient touches of unwearied art.1903: 199
  • The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,
  • Composed his posture, and his look sedate;
  • On Homer still he fix’d a rev’rend eye,
  • Great without pride, in modest majesty.
  • In living sculpture on the sides were spread
  • The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead;
  • Eliza stretch’d upon the funeral pyre;
  • Æneas bending with his aged sire:
  • Troy flamed in burning gold, and o’er the throne
  • ‘Arms and the man’ in golden ciphers shone.
• • Four swans sustain a car of silver bright,1903: 210
  • With heads advanced, and pinions stretch’d for flight:
  • Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
  • And seem’d to labour with th’ inspiring God.
  • Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
  • And boldly sinks into the sounding strings.
  • The figured games of Greece the column grace:
  • Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race;
  • The youths hang o’er the chariots as they run;
  • The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone;
  • The champions in distorted postures threat;1903: 220
  • And all appear’d irregularly great.
• • Here happy Horace tuned th’ Ausonian lyre
  • To sweeter sounds, and temper’d Pindar’s fire:
  • Pleas’d with Alcæus’ manly rage t’ infuse
  • The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse.
  • The polish’d pillar diff’rent sculptures grace;
  • A work outlasting monumental brass.
  • Here smiling loves and bacchanals appear,
  • The Julian star, and great Augustus here;
  • The doves, that round the infant poet spread1903: 230
  • Myrtles and bays, hung hov’ring o’er his head.
• • Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling light,
  • Sate fix’d in thought the mighty Stagyrite;
  • His sacred head a radiant Zodiac crown’d,
  • And various animals his sides surround:
  • His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
  • Superior worlds, and look all Nature thro’.
• • With equal rays immortal Tully shone;
  • The Roman rostra deck’d the consul’s throne;
  • Gath’ring his flowing robe, he seem’d to stand1903: 240
  • In act to speak, and graceful stretch’d his hand;
  • Edition: current; Page: [56]
  • Behind, Rome’s Genius waits with civic crowns,
  • And the great father of his country owns.
• • These massy columns in a circle rise,
  • O’er which a pompous dome invades the skies;
  • Scarce to the top I stretch’d my aching sight,
  • So large it spread, and swell’d to such a height.
  • Full in the midst proud Fame’s imperial seat
  • With jewels blazed, magnificently great;
  • The vivid em’ralds there revive the eye,1903: 250
  • The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye,
  • Bright azure rays from lively sapphires stream,
  • And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.
  • With various-colour’d light the pavement shone,
  • And all on fire appear’d the glowing throne;
  • The dome’s high arch reflects the mingled blaze,
  • And forms a rainbow of alternate rays.
  • When on the Goddess first I cast my sight,
  • Scarce seem’d her stature of a cubit’s height;1903: 259
  • But swell’d to larger size, the more I gazed,
  • Till to the roof her tow’ring front she rais’d.
  • With her, the temple ev’ry moment grew,
  • And ampler vistas open’d to my view:
  • Upward the columns shoot, the roofs ascend,
  • And arches widen, and long aisles extend.
  • Such was her form, as ancient bards have told;
  • Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet infold;
  • A thousand busy tongues the Goddess bears,
  • A thousand open eyes, and thousand list’ning ears.1903: 269
  • Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine
  • (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine;
  • With eyes on Fame for ever fix’d, they sing;
  • For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
  • With Time’s first birth began the heav’nly lays,
  • And last, eternal, thro’ the length of days.
• • Around these wonders as I cast a look,
  • The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,
  • And all the nations summon’d at the call,
  • From diff’rent quarters fill the crowded hall.
  • Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard;1903: 280
  • In various garbs promiscuous throngs appear’d:
  • Thick as the bees, that with the spring renew
  • Their flowery toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
  • When the wing’d colonies first tempt the sky,
  • O’er dusky fields and shaded waters fly,
  • Or, settling, seize the sweets the blossoms yield,
  • And a low murmur runs along the field.
  • Millions of suppliant crowds the shrine attend,1903: 288
  • And all degrees before the Goddess bend;
  • The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the sage,
  • And boasting youth, and narrative old age.
  • Their pleas were diff’rent, their request the same;
  • For good and bad alike are fond of Fame.
  • Some she disgraced and some with honours crown’d;
  • Unlike successes equal merits found.
  • Thus her blind sister, fickle Fortune, reigns,
  • And, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
• • First at the shrine the learned world appear,
  • And to the Goddess thus prefer their prayer:
  • ‘Long have we sought t’ instruct and please mankind,1903: 300
  • With studies pale, with midnight-vigils blind;
  • But thank’d by few, rewarded yet by none,
  • We here appeal to thy superior throne:
  • On Wit and Learning the just prize bestow,
  • For Fame is all we must expect below.’
• • The Goddess heard, and bade the Muses raise
  • The golden trumpet of eternal praise:
  • From pole to pole the winds diffuse the sound,
  • That fills the circuit of the world around;
  • Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud,1903: 310
  • The notes at first were rather sweet than loud;
  • By just degrees they every moment rise,
  • Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.
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  • At every breath were balmy odours shed,
  • Which still grew sweeter as they wider spread;
  • Less fragrant scents th’ unfolding rose exhales,
  • Or spices breathing in Arabian gales.
• • Next these the good and just, an awful train,
  • Thus on their knees address the sacred fane:1903: 319
  • ‘Since living virtue is with envy curs’d,
  • And the best men are treated like the worst,
  • Do thou, just Goddess, call our merits forth,
  • And give each deed th’ exact intrinsic worth.’
  • ‘Not with bare justice shall your act be crown’d
  • (Said Fame), but high above desert renown’d:
  • Let fuller notes th’ applauding world amaze,
  • And the loud clarion labour in your praise.’
• • This band dismiss’d, behold another crowd
  • Preferr’d the same request, and lowly bow’d;
  • The constant tenor of whose well-spent days1903: 330
  • No less deserv’d a just return of praise.
  • But straight the direful trump of Slander sounds;
  • Thro’ the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
  • Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
  • The dire report thro’ every region flies,
  • In every ear incessant rumours rung,
  • And gath’ring scandals grew on every tongue.
  • From the black trumpet’s rusty concave broke
  • Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling smoke:
  • The pois’nous vapour blots the purple skies,1903: 340
  • And withers all before it as it flies.
• • A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore,
  • And proud defiance in their looks they bore:
  • ‘For thee (they cried) amidst alarms and strife,
  • We sail’d in tempests down the stream of life;
  • For thee whole nations fill’d with flames and blood,
  • And swam to Empire thro’ the purple flood:
  • Those ills we dared, thy inspiration own;
  • What virtue seem’d, was done for thee alone.’
  • ‘Ambitious fools!’ (the Queen replied, and frown’d)1903: 350
  • ‘Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown’d;
  • There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone,
  • Your statues moulder’d, and your names unknown!’
  • A sudden cloud straight snatch’d them from my sight,
  • And each majestic phantom sunk in night.
• • Then came the smallest tribe I yet had seen;
  • Plain was their dress, and modest was their mien:
  • ‘Great Idol of mankind! we neither claim
  • The praise of Merit, nor aspire to Fame!
  • But safe in deserts from th’ applause of men,1903: 360
  • Would die unheard of, as we liv’d unseen;
  • ’T is all we beg thee, to conceal from sight
  • Those acts of goodness which themselves requite.
  • O let us still the secret joy partake,
  • To follow Virtue ev’n for Virtue’s sake.’
• • ‘And live there men who slight immortal fame?
  • Who then with incense shall adore our name?
  • But, mortals! know, ’t is still our greatest pride
  • To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
  • Rise! Muses, rise! add all your tuneful breath;1903: 370
  • These must not sleep in darkness and in death.’
  • She said: in air the trembling music floats,
  • And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
  • So soft, tho’ high, so loud, and yet so clear,
  • Ev’n list’ning angels lean’d from Heav’n to hear:
  • To farthest shores th’ ambrosial spirit flies,
  • Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
• • Next these a youthful train their vows express’d,
  • With feathers crown’d, with gay embroid’ry dress’d:
  • Edition: current; Page: [58]
  • ‘Hither’ they cried ‘direct your eyes, and see1903: 380
  • The men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry.
  • Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays,
  • Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;
  • Courts we frequent, where ’t is our pleasing care
  • To pay due visits, and address the Fair;
  • In fact, ’t is true, no nymph we could persuade,
  • But still in fancy vanquish’d ev’ry maid;
  • Of unknown Duchesses lewd tales we tell,
  • Yet, would the world believe us, all were well;1903: 389
  • The joy let others have, and we the name,
  • And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.’
• • The Queen assents: the trumpet rends the skies,
  • And at each blast a lady’s honour dies.
• • Pleas’d with the strange success, vast numbers prest
  • Around the shrine, and made the same request:
  • ‘What you’ she cried, ‘unlearn’d in arts to please,
  • Slaves to yourselves, and ev’n fatigued with ease,
  • Who lose a length of undeserving days,
  • Would you usurp the lover’s dear-bought praise?
  • To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,
  • The people’s fable, and the scorn of all.’1903: 401
  • Straight the black clarion sends a horrid sound,
  • Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round;
  • Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
  • And scornful hisses run thro’ all the crowd.
• • Last, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
  • Enslave their country, or usurp a throne;
  • Or who their glory’s dire foundation laid
  • On sov’reigns ruin’d, or on friends betray’d;
  • Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix,1903: 410
  • Of crooked counsels and dark politics;
  • Of these a gloomy tribe surround the throne,
  • And beg to make th’ immortal treasons known.
  • The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire,
  • With sparks that seem’d to set the world on fire.
  • At the dread sound pale mortals stood aghast,
  • And startled Nature trembled with the blast.
• • This having heard and seen, some Power unknown
  • Straight changed the scene, and snatch’d me from the throne.
  • Before my view appear’d a structure fair,1903: 420
  • Its site uncertain, if in earth or air;
  • With rapid motion turn’d the mansion round;
  • With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound:
  • Not less in number were the spacious doors
  • Than leaves on trees, or sands upon the shores;
  • Which still unfolded stand, by night, by day,
  • Previous to winds, and open every way.
  • As flames by nature to the skies ascend,
  • As weighty bodies to the centre tend,
  • As to the sea returning rivers roll,1903: 430
  • And the touch’d needle trembles to the pole,
  • Hither, as to their proper place, arise
  • All various sounds from earth, and seas, and skies,
  • Or spoke aloud, or whisper’d in the ear;
  • Nor ever silence, rest, or peace is here.
  • As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes
  • The sinking stone at first a circle makes;
  • The trembling surface by the motion stirr’d,
  • Spreads in a second circle, then a third;
  • Wide, and more wide, the floating rings advance,1903: 440
  • Fill all the wat’ry plain, and to the margin dance:
  • Thus every voice and sound, when first they break,
  • On neighb’ring air a soft impression make;
  • Another ambient circle then they move;
  • That in its turn, impels the next above;
  • Thro’ undulating air the sounds are sent,
  • And spread o’er all the fluid element.
• • There various news I heard of love and strife,
  • Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, and life,1903: 449
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  • Of loss and gain, of famine, and of store,
  • Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore,
  • Of prodigies, and portents seen in air,
  • Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing hair,
  • Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,
  • The fall of fav’rites, projects of the great,
  • Of old mismanagements, taxations new;
  • All neither wholly false, nor wholly true.
• • Above, below, without, within, around,
  • Confused, unnumber’d multitudes are found,
  • Who pass, repass, advance, and glide away,1903: 460
  • Hosts rais’d by fear, and phantoms of a day:
  • Astrologers, that future fates foreshew,
  • Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few;
  • And priests, and party zealots, numerous bands,
  • With home-born lies or tales from foreign lands;
  • Each talk’d aloud, or in some secret place,
  • And wild impatience stared in ev’ry face.
  • The flying rumours gather’d as they roll’d,
  • Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
  • And all who told it added something new, }
  • And all who heard it made enlargements too;1903: 471 }
  • In ev’ry ear it spread, on ev’ry tongue it grew. }
  • Thus flying east and west, and north and south,
  • News travel’d with increase from mouth to mouth.
  • So from a spark that, kindled first by chance,
  • With gath’ring force the quick’ning flames advance;
  • Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire,
  • And towers and temples sink in floods of fire.
• • When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,
  • Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue,1903: 480
  • Thro’ thousand vents, impatient, forth they flow,
  • And rush in millions on the world below.
  • Fame sits aloft, and points them out their course,
  • Their date determines, and prescribes their force;
  • Some to remain, and some to perish soon,
  • Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.
  • Around, a thousand winged wonders fly,
  • Borne by the trumpet’s blast, and scatter’d thro’ the sky.
• • There, at one passage, oft you might survey
  • A lie and truth contending for the way;1903: 490
  • And long ’t was doubtful, both so closely pent,
  • Which first should issue thro’ the narrow vent:
  • At last agreed, together out they fly,
  • Inseparable now the truth and lie;
  • The strict companions are for ever join’d,
  • And this or that unmix’d, no mortal e’er shall find,
• • While thus I stood, intent to see and hear,
  • One came, methought, and whisper’d in my ear:
  • ‘What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
  • Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?’1903: 500
• • ‘’T is true,’ said I, ‘not void of hopes I came,
  • For who so fond as youthful bards of Fame?
  • But few, alas! the casual blessing boast,
  • So hard to gain, so easy to be lost.
  • How vain that second life in others’ breath,
  • Th’ estate which wits inherit after death!
  • Ease, health, and life for this they must resign,
  • (Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!)
  • The great man’s curse, without the gains, endure,
  • Be envied, wretched; and be flatter’d, poor;
  • All luckless wits their enemies profest,1903: 511
  • And all successful, jealous friends at best.
  • Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
  • She comes unlook’d for, if she comes at all.
  • But if the purchase costs so dear a price
  • As soothing Folly, or exalting Vice;
  • Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway,
  • And follow still where Fortune leads the way;
  • Or if no basis bear my rising name,
  • But the fall’n ruins of another’s fame;1903: 520
  • Then teach me, Heav’n! to scorn the guilty bays;
  • Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise;
  • Unblemish’d let me live or die unknown;
  • Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me none!’

SAPPHO TO PHAON
FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID’S EPISTLES

Written, according to Pope, in 1707. First published in Tonson’s Ovid, 1712.

• • Say, lovely Youth, that dost my heart command,
  • Can Phaon’s eyes forget his Sappho’s hand?
  • Must then her name the wretched writer prove,
  • To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love?
  • Ask not the cause that I new numbers choose,
  • The lute neglected and the lyric Muse;
  • Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow,
  • And tuned my heart to elegies of woe.
  • I burn, I burn, as when thro’ ripen’d corn
  • By driving winds the spreading flames are borne!1903: 10
  • Phaon to Ætna’s scorching fields retires,
  • While I consume with more than Ætna’s fires!
  • No more my soul a charm in music finds;
  • Music has charms alone for peaceful minds.
  • Soft scenes of solitude no more can please;
  • Love enters there, and I’m my own disease.
  • No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
  • Once the dear objects of my guilty love;
  • All other loves are lost in only thine,
  • O youth, ungrateful to a flame like mine!
  • Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise,1903: 21
  • Those heav’nly looks, and dear deluding eyes?
  • The harp and bow would you like Phœbus bear,
  • A brighter Phœbus Phaon might appear;
  • Would you with ivy wreathe your flowing hair,
  • Not Bacchus’ self with Phaon could compare:
  • Yet Phœbus lov’d, and Bacchus felt the flame,
  • One Daphne warm’d, and one the Cretan dame;
  • Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me,
  • Than ev’n those Gods contend in charms with thee.1903: 30
  • The Muses teach me all their softest lays,
  • And the wide world resounds with Sappho’s praise.
  • Tho’ great Alcæus more sublimely sings,
  • And strikes with bolder rage the sounding strings,
  • No less renown attends the moving lyre,
  • Which Venus tunes, and all her loves inspire;
  • To me what Nature has in charms denied,
  • Is well by Wit’s more lasting flames supplied.
  • Tho’ short my stature, yet my name extends
  • To Heav’n itself, and earth’s remotest ends.1903: 40
  • Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame
  • Inspired young Perseus with a gen’rous flame;
  • Turtles and doves of diff’rent hues unite,
  • And glossy jet is pair’d with shining white.
  • If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,
  • But such as merit, such as equal thine,
  • By none, alas! by none thou canst be mov’d,
  • Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov’d!
  • Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ,
  • Once in her arms you centred all your joy:
  • No time the dear remembrance can remove,1903: 51
  • For oh! how vast a memory has Love!
  • My music, then, you could for ever hear,
  • And all my words were music to your ear.
  • You stopp’d with kisses my enchanting tongue,
  • And found my kisses sweeter than my song.
  • In all I pleas’d, but most in what was best;
  • And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
  • Then with each word, each glance, each motion fired,
  • You still enjoy’d, and yet you still desired,
  • Till, all dissolving, in the trance we lay,1903: 61
  • And in tumultuous raptures died away.
  • Edition: current; Page: [61]
  • The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame;
  • Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian dame?
  • But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
  • That wand’ring heart which I so lately lost;
  • Nor be with all those tempting words abused,
  • Those tempting words were all to Sappho used.
  • And you that rule Sicilia’s happy plains,
  • Have pity, Venus, on your poet’s pains!1903: 70
  • Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
  • And still increase the woes so soon begun?
  • Inured to sorrow from my tender years,
  • My parents’ ashes drank my early tears:
  • My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
  • Ignobly burn’d in a destructive flame:
  • An infant daughter late my griefs increas’d,
  • And all a mother’s cares distract my breast.
  • Alas! what more could Fate itself impose,
  • But thee, the last, and greatest of my woes?1903: 80
  • No more my robes in waving purple flow,
  • Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow;
  • No more my locks in ringlets curl’d diffuse
  • The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
  • Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,
  • That fly disorder’d with the wanton wind:
  • For whom should Sappho use such arts as these?
  • He’s gone, whom only she desired to please!
  • Cupid’s light darts my tender bosom move;
  • Still is there cause for Sappho still to love:1903: 90
  • So from my birth the sisters fix’d my doom,
  • And gave to Venus all my life to come;
  • Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains,
  • My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains.
  • By charms like thine which all my soul have won,
  • Who might not—ah! who would not be undone?
  • For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,
  • And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn.
  • For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon’s sleep,1903: 99
  • And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep.
  • Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies;
  • But Mars on thee might look with Venus’ eyes.
  • O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
  • O useful time for lovers to employ!
  • Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
  • Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!
  • The vows you never will return, receive;
  • And take, at least, the love you will not give.
  • See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!
  • The less my sense, the more my love appears.1903: 110
  • Sure ’t was not much to bid one kind adieu
  • (At least to feign was never hard to you):
  • ‘Farewell, my Lesbian love,’ you might have said;
  • Or coldly thus, ‘Farewell, O Lesbian maid!’
  • No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,
  • Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
  • No lover’s gift your Sappho could confer,
  • And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.
  • No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,
  • But this, ‘Be mindful of our loves, and live.’1903: 120
  • Now by the Nine, those powers ador’d by me,
  • And Love, the God that ever waits on thee,
  • When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)
  • That you were fled, and all my joys with you,
  • Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood,
  • Grief chill’d my breast, and stopt my freezing blood;
  • No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow,
  • Fix’d in a stupid lethargy of woe:
  • But when its way th’ impetuous passion found,
  • I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound;
  • I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;1903: 131
  • Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.
  • Edition: current; Page: [62]
  • Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,
  • Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral flame.
  • My scornful brother with a smile appears,
  • Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears;
  • His hated image ever haunts my eyes;
  • ‘And why this grief? thy daughter lives,’ he cries,
  • Stung with my love, and furious with despair,
  • All torn my garments, and my bosom bare,
  • My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim,1903: 141
  • Such inconsistent things are Love and Shame!
  • ’T is thou art all my care and my delight,
  • My daily longing, and my dream by night:
  • O night more pleasing than the brightest day,
  • When fancy gives what absence takes away,
  • And, dress’d in all its visionary charms,
  • Restores my fair deserter to my arms!
  • Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine;
  • Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine:
  • A thousand tender words I hear and speak;1903: 151
  • A thousand melting kisses give and take:
  • Then fiercer joys—I blush to mention these,
  • Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
  • But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,
  • And all things wake to life and joy but I,
  • As if once more forsaken, I complain,
  • And close my eyes to dream of you again:
  • Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove
  • Thro’ lonely plains, and thro’ the silent grove;1903: 160
  • As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,
  • That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
  • I view the grotto, once the scene of love,
  • The rocks around, the hanging roofs above,
  • That charm’d me more, with native moss o’ergrown,
  • Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone:
  • I find the shades that veil’d our joys before;
  • But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more.
  • Here the press’d herbs with bending tops betray
  • Where oft entwin’d in am’rous folds we lay;1903: 170
  • I kiss that earth which once was press’d by you,
  • And all with tears the with’ring herbs bedew.
  • For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
  • And birds defer their songs till thy return:
  • Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie,
  • All but the mournful Philomel and I:
  • With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
  • Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.
• • A spring there is, whose silver waters show,
  • Clear as a glass, the shining sands below:
  • A flowery lotos spreads its arms above,1903: 181
  • Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
  • Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,
  • Watch’d by the sylvan genius of the place.
  • Here as I lay, and swell’d with tears the flood,
  • Before my sight a wat’ry virgin stood:
  • She stood and cried, ‘O you that love in vain!
  • Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main.
  • There stands a rock, from whose impending steep
  • Apollo’s fane surveys the rolling deep;1903: 190
  • There injur’d lovers, leaping from above,
  • Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.
  • Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn’d;
  • In vain he lov’d, relentless Pyrrha scorn’d;
  • But when from hence he plunged into the main,
  • Deucalion scorn’d, and Pyrrha lov’d in vain.
  • Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw
  • Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!’
  • She spoke, and vanish’d with the voice—I rise,
  • And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes.1903: 200
  • I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove;
  • How much I fear, but ah, how much I love!
  • I go, ye Nymphs! where furious love inspires,
  • Let female fears submit to female fires.
  • Edition: current; Page: [63]
  • To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon’s hate,
  • And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate.
  • Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
  • And softly lay me on the waves below!
  • And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, }
  • Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o’er the main,1903: 210 }
  • Nor let a lover’s death the guiltless flood profane; }
  • On Phœbus’ shrine my harp I’ll then bestow,
  • And this inscription shall be placed below:
  • ‘Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,
  • Sappho to Phœbus consecrates her lyre;
  • What suits with Sappho, Phœbus, suits with thee;
  • The Gift, the Giver, and the God agree.’
• • But why, alas! relentless youth, ah why
  • To distant seas must tender Sappho fly?
  • Thy charms than those may far more powerful be,1903: 220
  • And Phœbus’ self is less a God to me.
  • Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea,
  • Oh! far more faithless and more hard than they?
  • Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast
  • Dash’d on these rocks than to thy bosom press’d?
  • This breast which once, in vain! you liked so well
  • Where the Loves play’d, and where the Muses dwell.
  • Alas! the Muses now no more inspire;
  • Untuned my lute, and silent is my lyre.1903: 229
  • My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
  • And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.
  • Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
  • Themes of my verse, and objects of my flames,
  • No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring,
  • No more these hands shall touch the trembling string:
  • My Phaon’s fled, and I those arts resign;
  • (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
  • Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
  • Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:1903: 239
  • Absent from thee, the poet’s flame expires;
  • But ah! how fiercely burn the lover’s fires!
  • Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move
  • One savage heart, or teach it how to love?
  • The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bear,
  • The flying winds have lost them all in air!
  • Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
  • To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails!
  • If you return—ah, why these long delays?
  • Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.
  • O launch thy bark, nor fear the wat’ry plain;1903: 250
  • Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
  • O launch thy bark, secure of prosp’rous gales;
  • Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.
  • If you will fly—(yet ah! what cause can be,
  • Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)
  • If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,
  • Ah let me seek it from the raging seas:
  • To raging seas unpitied I ’ll remove,
  • And either cease to live or cease to love!

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE[ ]
FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

• • She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs;
  • When the fair consort of her son replies:
  • ‘Since you a servant’s ravish’d form bemoan,
  • And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own,
  • Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
  • A nearer woe, a sister’s stranger fate.
  • No nymph of all Œchalia could compare
  • For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
  • Her tender mother’s only hope and pride
  • (Myself the offspring of a second bride).1903: 10
  • This nymph compress’d by him who rules the day,
  • Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
  • Andræmon lov’d; and bless’d in all those charms
  • That pleas’d a God, succeeded to her arms.
• • ‘A lake there was with shelving banks around,
  • Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown’d.
  • Edition: current; Page: [64]
  • These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
  • And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought:
  • Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest
  • Within her arms, and nourish’d at her breast.1903: 20
  • Not distant far a wat’ry lotos grows;
  • The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs
  • Adorn’d with blossoms, promis’d fruits that vie
  • In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye.
  • Of these she cropp’d, to please her infant son,
  • And I myself the same rash act had done:
  • But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood)
  • The violated blossoms drop with blood;
  • Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;
  • The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.1903: 30
  • Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true)
  • As from Priapus’ lawless lust she flew,
  • Forsook her form, and, fixing here, became
  • A flowery plant, which still preserves her name.
• • ‘This change unknown, astonish’d at the sight,
  • My trembling sister strove to urge her flight;
  • And first the pardon of the Nymphs implor’d,
  • And those offended sylvan Powers ador’d:
  • But when she backward would have fled, she found
  • Her stiff’ning feet were rooted in the ground:1903: 40
  • In vain to free her fasten’d feet she strove,
  • And as she struggles only moves above;
  • She feels th’ encroaching bark around her grow
  • By quick degrees, and cover all below:
  • Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves
  • To rend her hair; her hand is fill’d with leaves:
  • Where late was hair the shooting leaves are seen
  • To rise, and shade her with a sudden green.
  • The child Amphissus, to her bosom prest,
  • Perceiv’d a colder and a harder breast,1903: 50
  • And found the springs, that ne’er till then denied
  • Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried.
  • I saw, unhappy! what I now relate,
  • And stood the helpless witness of thy fate;
  • Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay’d,
  • There wish’d to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
• • ‘Behold Andræmon and th’ unhappy sire
  • Appear, and for their Dryope inquire:
  • A springing tree for Dryope they find,
  • And print warm kisses on the panting rind;
  • Prostrate, with tears, their kindred plant bedew,1903: 61
  • And close embrace as to the roots they grew.
  • The face was all that now remain’d of thee,
  • No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
  • Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
  • From ev’ry leaf distils a trickling tear;
  • And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains,
  • Thus thro’ the trembling boughs in sighs complains.
• • ‘If to the wretched any faith be giv’n,
  • I swear by all th’ unpitying powers of Heav’n,1903: 70
  • No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
  • In mutual innocence our lives we led:
  • If this be false, let these new greens decay, }
  • Let sounding axes lop my limbs away, }
  • And crackling flames on all my honours prey. }
  • But from my branching arms this infant bear;
  • Let some kind nurse supply a mother’s care;
  • And to his mother let him oft be led,
  • Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed.
  • Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame1903: 80
  • Imperfect words, and lisp his mother’s name,
  • To hail this tree, and say with weeping eyes,
  • “Within this plant my hapless parent lies:”
  • And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
  • Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
  • Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn’d by me,
  • Believe a Goddess shrined in every tree.
  • Edition: current; Page: [65]
  • My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell!
  • If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,
  • Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel1903: 90
  • The browsing cattle or the piercing steel.
  • Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join
  • My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
  • My son, thy mother’s parting kiss receive,
  • While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.
  • I can no more; the creeping rind invades
  • My closing lips, and hides my head in shades:
  • Remove your hands; the bark shall soon suffice
  • Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.’
• • ‘She ceas’d at once to speak and ceas’d to be,1903: 100
  • And all the Nymph was lost within the tree;
  • Yet latent life thro’ her new branches reign’d
  • And long the plant a human heat retain’d.’

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA
FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

• • The fair Pomona flourish’d in his reign;
  • Of all the virgins of the sylvan train
  • None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
  • Or more improv’d the vegetable care.
  • To her the shady grove, the flowery field,
  • The streams and fountains no delights could yield;
  • ’T was all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
  • And see the boughs with happy burdens bend.
  • The hook she bore instead of Cynthia’s spear.
  • To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,1903: 10
  • To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,
  • And teach th’ obedient branches where to spring.
  • Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives,
  • And yields an offspring more than Nature gives;
  • Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
  • And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
• • These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
  • Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
  • Her private orchards, wall’d on every side,
  • To lawless sylvans all access denied.1903: 20
  • How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fauns,
  • Who haunt the forests or frequent the lawns,
  • The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
  • And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
  • Employ’d their wiles and unavailing care
  • To pass the fences, and surprise the Fair?
  • Like these Vertumnus own’d his faithful flame,
  • Like these rejected by the scornful dame.
  • To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears;
  • And first a reaper from the field appears:1903: 30
  • Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
  • O’ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain:
  • Oft o’er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
  • And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade:
  • Oft in his harden’d hand a goad he bears,
  • Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers:
  • Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
  • And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines:
  • Now gath’ring what the bounteous year allows,
  • He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs:1903: 40
  • A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
  • A fisher next, his trembling angle bears:
  • Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
  • On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
• • A female form at last Vertumnus wears, }
  • With all the marks of rev’rend age appears, }
  • His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: }
  • Propp’d on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
  • A painted mitre shades his furrow’d brows.
  • The God in this decrepit form array’d,1903: 50 }
  • The gardens enter’d, and the fruit survey’d; }
  • And, ‘Happy you!’ he thus address’d the maid, }
  • ‘Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine,
  • As other gardens are excell’d by thine!’
  • Edition: current; Page: [66]
  • Then kiss’d the Fair; (his kisses warmer grow
  • Than such as women on their sex bestow)
  • Then placed beside her on the flowery ground,
  • Beheld the trees with autumn’s bounty crown’d.
  • An elm was near, to whose embraces led,
  • The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:1903: 60
  • He view’d her twining branches with delight,
  • And prais’d the beauty of the pleasing sight.
• • ‘Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,’ he said,
  • “Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
  • And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
  • Her married elm, had crept along the ground.
  • Ah! beauteous maid! let this example move
  • Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
  • Deign to be lov’d, and every heart subdue!
  • What Nymph could e’er attract such crowds as you?1903: 70
  • Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur’s arms,
  • Ulysses’ queen, nor Helen’s fatal charms.
  • Ev’n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
  • A thousand court you, tho’ they court in vain,
  • A thousand Sylvans, Demigods, and Gods,
  • That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
  • But if you ’ll prosper, mark what I advise,
  • Whom age and long experience render wise,
  • And one whose tender care is far above
  • All that these lovers ever felt of love1903: 80
  • (Far more than e’er can by yourself be guess’d);
  • Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest:
  • For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
  • Scarce to himself himself is better known.
  • To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
  • Like you, contented with his native groves;
  • Nor at first sight, like most, admires the Fair; }
  • For you he lives; and you alone shall share }
  • His last affection as his early care. }
  • Besides, he’s lovely far above the rest,1903: 90
  • With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
  • Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
  • And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
  • But what should most excite a mutual flame,
  • Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
  • To him your orchard’s early fruits are due
  • (A pleasing off’ring when ’t is made by you);
  • He values these; but yet, alas! complains
  • That still the best and dearest gift remains.
  • Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows1903: 100
  • With that ripe red th’ autumnal sun bestows;
  • Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
  • Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
  • You, only you, can move the God’s desire.
  • O crown so constant and so pure a fire!
  • Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
  • Think ’t is Vertumnus begs you to be kind:
  • So may no frost, when early buds appear,
  • Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
  • Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,1903: 110
  • Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!’
• • This, when the various God had urged in vain,
  • He straight assumed his native form again:
  • Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
  • As when thro’ clouds th’ emerging sun appears,
  • And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
  • Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
  • Force he prepared, but check’d the rash design;
  • For when, appearing in a form divine,
  • The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace1903: 120
  • Of charming features and a youthful face,
  • In her soft breast consenting passions move,
  • And the warm maid confess’d a mutual love.

PART I

Introduction. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

• • ’T is hard to say if greater want of skill
  • Appear in writing or in judging ill;
  • But of the two less dangerous is th’ offence
  • To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
  • Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
  • Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
  • A fool might once himself alone expose;
  • Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
• • ’T is with our judgments as our watches, none
  • Go just alike, yet each believes his own.1903: 10
  • In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
  • True Taste as seldom is the Critic’s share;
  • Both must alike from Heav’n derive their light,
  • These born to judge, as well as those to write.
  • Let such teach others who themselves excel,
  • And censure freely who have written well;
  • Authors are partial to their wit, ’t is true,
  • But are not Critics to their judgment too?
• • Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
  • Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:1903: 20
  • Nature affords at least a glimm’ring light;
  • The lines, tho’ touch’d but faintly, are drawn right:
  • But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced, }
  • Is by ill col’ring but the more disgraced, }
  • So by false learning is good sense defaced: }
  • Some are bewilder’d in the maze of schools,
  • And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
  • In search of wit these lose their common sense,
  • And then turn Critics in their own defence:
  • Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
  • Or with a rival’s or an eunuch’s spite.1903: 31
  • All fools have still an itching to deride,
  • And fain would be upon the laughing side.
  • If Mævius scribble in Apollo’s spite,
  • There are who judge still worse than he can write.
• • Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass’d;
  • Turn’d Critics next, and prov’d plain Fools at last.
  • Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
  • As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
  • Those half-learn’d witlings, numerous in our isle,1903: 40
  • As half-form’d insects on the banks of Nile;
  • Unfinish’d things, one knows not what to call,
  • Their generation ’s so equivocal;
  • To tell them would a hundred tongues require,
  • Or one vain Wit’s, that might a hundred tire.
• • But you who seek to give and merit fame,
  • And justly bear a Critic’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,1903: 50
  • And mark that point where Sense and Dulness meet.
• Edition: current; Page: [68]
• • Nature to all things fix’d the limits fit,
  • And wisely curb’d proud man’s pretending wit.
  • As on the land while here the ocean gains,
  • In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
  • Thus in the soul while Memory prevails,
  • The solid power of Understanding fails;
  • Where beams of warm Imagination play,
  • The Memory’s soft figures melt away.
  • One Science only will one genius fit;1903: 60
  • So vast is Art, so narrow human wit:
  • Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
  • But oft in those confin’d to single parts.
  • Like Kings we lose the conquests gain’d before,
  • By vain ambition still to make them more:
  • Each might his sev’ral province well command,
  • Would all but stoop to what they understand.
• • First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
  • By her just standard, which is still the same;
  • Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,1903: 70
  • One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
  • Life, force, and beauty must to all impart,
  • At once the source, and end, and test of Art.
  • Art from that fund each just supply provides,
  • Works without show, and without pomp presides.
  • In some fair body thus th’ informing soul
  • With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole;
  • Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains,
  • Itself unseen, but in th’ effects remains.
  • Some, to whom Heav’n in wit has been profuse,1903: 80
  • Want as much more to turn it to its use;
  • For Wit and Judgment often are at strife,
  • Tho’ meant each other’s aid, like man and wife.
  • ’T is more to guide than spur the Muse’s steed,
  • Restrain his fury than provoke his speed:
  • The winged courser, like a gen’rous horse,
  • Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
• • Those rules of old, discover’d, not devised,
  • Are Nature still, but Nature methodized;
  • Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain’d1903: 90
  • By the same laws which first herself ordain’d.
• • Hear how learn’d Greece her useful rules indites
  • When to repress and when indulge our flights:
  • High on Parnassus’ top her sons she show’d,
  • And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;
  • Held from afar, aloft, th’ immortal prize,
  • And urged the rest by equal steps to rise.
  • Just precepts thus from great examples giv’n,
  • She drew from them what they derived from Heav’n.
  • The gen’rous Critic fann’d the poet’s fire,
  • And taught the world with reason to admire.1903: 101
  • Then Criticism the Muse’s handmaid prov’d,
  • To dress her charms, and make her more belov’d:
  • But following Wits from that intention stray’d:
  • Who could not win the mistress woo’d the maid;
  • Against the Poets their own arms they turn’d,
  • Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn’d.
  • So modern ’pothecaries, taught the art
  • By doctors’ bills to play the doctor’s part,
  • Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,1903: 110
  • Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
  • Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey;
  • Nor time nor moths e’er spoil’d so much as they;
  • Some drily plain, without invention’s aid,
  • Write dull receipts how poems may be made;
  • These leave the sense their learning to display,
  • And those explain the meaning quite away.
• • You then whose judgment the right course would steer,
  • Know well each ancient’s proper character;
  • His fable, subject, scope in every page;1903: 120
  • Religion, country, genius of his age:
  • Without all these at once before your eyes,
  • Cavil you may, but never criticise.
  • Be Homer’s works your study and delight,
  • Read them by day, and meditate by night;
  • Edition: current; Page: [69]
  • Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring,
  • And trace the Muses upward to their spring.
  • Still with itself compared, his text peruse;
  • And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.
• • When first young Maro in his boundless mind1903: 130
  • A work t’ outlast immortal Rome design’d,
  • Perhaps he seem’d above the critic’s law,
  • And but from Nature’s fountains scorn’d to draw;
  • But when t’ examine ev’ry part he came,
  • Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.
  • Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design, }
  • And rules as strict his labour’d work confine }
  • As if the Stagyrite o’erlook’d each line. }
  • Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
  • To copy Nature is to copy them.1903: 140
• • Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
  • For there ’s a happiness as well as care.
  • Music resembles poetry; in each }
  • Are nameless graces which no methods teach, }
  • And which a master-hand alone can reach. }
  • If, where the rules not far enough extend,
  • (Since rules were made but to promote their end)
  • Some lucky license answer to the full
  • Th’ intent proposed, that license is a rule.
  • Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,1903: 150
  • May boldly deviate from the common track.
  • Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
  • And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
  • From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
  • And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
  • Which, without passing thro’ the judgment, gains
  • The heart, and all its end at once attains.
  • In prospects thus some objects please our eyes, }
  • Which out of Nature’s common order rise, }
  • The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. }
  • But tho’ the ancients thus their rules invade,1903: 161
  • (As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
  • Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
  • Against the precept, ne’er transgress its end;
  • Let it be seldom, and compell’d by need;
  • And have at least their precedent to plead;
  • The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
  • Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
• • I know there are to whose presumptuous thoughts
  • Those freer beauties, ev’n in them, seem faults.1903: 170
  • Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear,
  • Consider’d singly, or beheld too near,
  • Which, but proportion’d to their light or place,
  • Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
  • A prudent chief not always must display
  • His powers in equal ranks and fair array,
  • But with th’ occasion and the place comply,
  • Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly.
  • Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
  • Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
• • Still green with bays each ancient altar stands1903: 181
  • Above the reach of sacrilegious hands,
  • Secure from flames, from Envy’s fiercer rage,
  • Destructive war, and all-involving Age.
  • See from each clime the learn’d their incense bring!
  • Hear in all tongues consenting pæans ring!
  • In praise so just let ev’ry voice be join’d,
  • And fill the gen’ral chorus of mankind.
  • Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days,
  • Immortal heirs of universal praise!1903: 190
  • Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
  • As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
  • Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
  • And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
  • O may some spark of your celestial fire
  • The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
  • (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights,
  • Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes)
  • To teach vain Wits a science little known,
  • T’ admire superior sense, and doubt their own.1903: 200

PART II

Causes hindering a true judgment. Pride. Imperfect learning. Judging by parts, and not by the whole. Critics in wit, language, versification only. Being too hard to please, or too apt to admire. Partiality—too much love to a sect—to the ancients or moderns. Prejudice or prevention. Singularity. Inconstancy. Party spirit. Envy. Against envy, and in praise of good-nature. When severity is chiefly to be used by critics.

• • Of all the causes which conspire to blind
  • Man’s erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
  • What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
  • Is Pride, the never failing vice of fools.
  • Whatever Nature has in worth denied
  • She gives in large recruits of needful Pride:
  • For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find
  • What wants in blood and spirits swell’d with wind:
  • Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defence,
  • And fills up all the mighty void of Sense:1903: 10
  • If once right Reason drives that cloud away,
  • Truth breaks upon us with resistless day.
  • Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,
  • Make use of ev’ry friend—and ev’ry foe.
• • A little learning is a dangerous thing;
  • Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
  • There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
  • And drinking largely sobers us again.
  • Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
  • In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts,1903: 20
  • While from the bounded level of our mind
  • Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind:
  • But more advanc’d, behold with strange surprise
  • New distant scenes of endless science rise!
  • So pleas’d at first the tow’ring Alps we try,
  • Mount o’er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;
  • Th’ eternal snows appear already past,
  • And the first clouds and mountains seem the last:
  • But those attain’d, we tremble to survey
  • The growing labours of the lengthen’d way;1903: 30
  • Th’ increasing prospect tires our wand’ring eyes,
  • Hills peep o’er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
• • A perfect judge will read each work of wit
  • With the same spirit that its author writ;
  • Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to find
  • Where Nature moves, and Rapture warms the mind:
  • Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight,
  • The gen’rous pleasure to be charm’d with wit.
  • But in such lays as neither ebb nor flow,
  • Correctly cold, and regularly low,1903: 40
  • That shunning faults one quiet tenor keep,
  • We cannot blame indeed—but we may sleep.
  • In Wit, as Nature, what affects our hearts
  • Is not th’ exactness of peculiar parts;
  • ’T is not a lip or eye we beauty call,
  • But the joint force and full result of all.
  • Thus when we view some well proportion’d dome,
  • (The world’s just wonder, and ev’n thine, O Rome!)
  • No single parts unequally surprise,
  • All comes united to th’ admiring eyes;1903: 50
  • No monstrous height, or breadth, or length, appear;
  • The whole at once is bold and regular.
• • Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
  • Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be.
  • In every work regard the writer’s end,
  • Since none can compass more than they intend;
  • And if the means be just, the conduct true,
  • Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
  • As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit,
  • T’ avoid great errors must the less commit;
  • Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,1903: 61
  • For not to know some trifles is a praise.
  • Most critics, fond of some subservient art,
  • Still make the whole depend upon a part:
  • They talk of Principles, but Notions prize,
  • And all to one lov’d folly sacrifice.
• • Once on a time La Mancha’s Knight, they say,
  • A certain bard encount’ring on the way,
  • Discours’d in terms as just, with looks as sage,
  • As e’er could Dennis, of the Grecian Stage;
  • Edition: current; Page: [71]
  • Concluding all were desperate sots and fools1903: 71
  • Who durst depart from Aristotle’s rules.
  • Our author, happy in a judge so nice,
  • Produced his play, and begg’d the knight’s advice;
  • Made him observe the Subject and the Plot,
  • The Manners, Passions, Unities; what not?
  • All which exact to rule were brought about,
  • Were but a combat in the lists left out.
  • ‘What! leave the combat out?’ exclaims the knight.
  • ‘Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.’
  • ‘Not so, by Heaven! (he answers in a rage)1903: 81
  • Knights, squires, and steeds must enter on the stage.’
  • ‘So vast a throng the stage can ne’er contain.’
  • ‘Then build a new, or act it in a plain.’
• • Thus critics of less judgment than caprice,
  • Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice,
  • Form short ideas, and offend in Arts
  • (As most in Manners), by a love to parts.
• • Some to Conceit alone their taste confine,
  • And glitt’ring thoughts struck out at every line;1903: 90
  • Pleas’d with a work where nothing ’s just or fit,
  • One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
  • Poets, like painters, thus unskill’d to trace
  • The naked nature and the living grace,
  • With gold and jewels cover every part,
  • And hide with ornaments their want of Art.
  • True Wit is Nature to advantage dress’d,
  • What oft was thought, but ne’er so well express’d;
  • Something whose truth convinced at sight we find,
  • That gives us back the image of our mind.
  • As shades more sweetly recommend the light,1903: 101
  • So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit:
  • For works may have more wit than does them good,
  • As bodies perish thro’ excess of blood.
• • Others for language all their care express,
  • And value books, as women men, for dress:
  • Their praise is still—the Style is excellent;
  • The Sense they humbly take upon content.
  • Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
  • Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
  • False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,1903: 111
  • Its gaudy colours spreads on every place;
  • The face of Nature we no more survey,
  • All glares alike, without distinction gay;
  • But true expression, like th’ unchanging sun, }
  • Clears and improves whate’er it shines upon; }
  • It gilds all objects, but it alters none. }
  • Expression is the dress of thought, and still
  • Appears more decent as more suitable.
  • A vile Conceit in pompous words express’d
  • Is like a clown in regal purple dress’d:1903: 121
  • For diff’rent styles with diff’rent subjects sort,
  • As sev’ral garbs with country, town, and court.
  • Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
  • Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;
  • Such labour’d nothings, in so strange a style,
  • Amaze th’ unlearn’d, and make the learned smile;
  • Unlucky as Fungoso in the play,
  • These sparks with awkward vanity display
  • What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
  • And but so mimic ancient wits at best,1903: 131
  • As apes our grandsires in their doublets drest.
  • In words as fashions the same rule will hold,
  • Alike fantastic if too new or old:
  • Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
  • Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
• • But most by Numbers judge a poet’s song,
  • And smooth or rough with them is right or wrong.
  • In the bright Muse tho’ thousand charms conspire,1903: 139
  • Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;
  • Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, }
  • Not mend their minds; as some to church repair, }
  • Not for the doctrine, but the music there. }
  • These equal syllables alone require,
  • Tho’ oft the ear the open vowels tire,
  • While expletives their feeble aid do join,
  • And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
  • While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
  • With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
  • Edition: current; Page: [72]
  • Where’er you find ‘the cooling western breeze,’1903: 150
  • In the next line, it ‘whispers thro’ the trees;’
  • If crystal streams ‘with pleasing murmurs creep,’
  • The reader’s threaten’d (not in vain) with ‘sleep;’
  • Then, at the last and only couplet, fraught
  • With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
  • A needless Alexandrine ends the song,
  • That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
  • Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
  • What’s roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
  • And praise the easy vigour of a line1903: 160
  • Where Denham’s strength and Waller’s sweetness join.
  • True ease in writing comes from Art, not Chance,
  • As those move easiest who have learn’d to dance.
  • ’T is not enough no harshness gives offence;
  • The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
  • Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,
  • And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
  • But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
  • The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.
  • When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw,1903: 170
  • The line, too, labours, and the words move slow:
  • Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
  • Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the main.
  • Hear how Timotheus’ varied lays surprise,
  • And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
  • While at each change the son of Libyan Jove
  • Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
  • Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
  • Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
  • Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,1903: 180
  • And the world’s Victor stood subdued by sound!
  • The power of music all our hearts allow,
  • And what Timotheus was is Dryden now.
• • Avoid extremes, and shun the fault of such
  • Who still are pleas’d too little or too much.
  • At ev’ry trifle scorn to take offence;
  • That always shows great pride or little sense:
  • Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best
  • Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
  • Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;1903: 190
  • For fools admire, but men of sense approve:
  • As things seem large which we thro’ mist descry,
  • Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
• • Some foreign writers, some our own despise;
  • The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
  • Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is applied
  • To one small sect, and all are damn’d beside.
  • Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
  • And force that sun but on a part to shine,
  • Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,1903: 200
  • But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
  • Which from the first has shone on ages past,
  • Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
  • Tho’ each may feel increases and decays,
  • And see now clearer and now darker days.
  • Regard not then if wit be old or new,
  • But blame the False and value still the True.
• • Some ne’er advance a judgment of their own,
  • But catch the spreading notion of the town;
  • They reason and conclude by precedent,1903: 210
  • And own stale nonsense which they ne’er invent.
  • Some judge of authors’ names, not works, and then
  • Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
  • Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
  • That in proud dulness joins with quality;
  • A constant critic at the great man’s board,
  • To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord.
  • What woful stuff this madrigal would be
  • In some starv’d hackney sonneteer or me!
  • Edition: current; Page: [73]
  • But let a lord once own the happy lines,
  • How the Wit brightens! how the Style refines!1903: 221
  • Before his sacred name flies every fault,
  • And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
• • The vulgar thus thro’ imitation err,
  • As oft the learn’d by being singular;
  • So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng
  • By chance go right, they purposely go wrong.
  • So schismatics the plain believers quit,
  • And are but damn’d for having too much wit.
  • Some praise at morning what they blame at night,1903: 230
  • But always think the last opinion right.
  • A Muse by these is like a mistress used,
  • This hour she ’s idolized, the next absued;
  • While their weak heads, like towns unfortified,
  • ’Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side.
  • Ask them the cause; they ’re wiser still they say;
  • And still to-morrow ’s wiser than to-day.
  • We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
  • Our wiser sons no doubt will think us so.
  • Once school-divines this zealous isle o’erspread;1903: 240
  • Who knew most sentences was deepest read.
  • Faith, Gospel, all seem’d made to be disputed,
  • And none had sense enough to be confuted.
  • Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain
  • Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Ducklane.
  • If Faith itself has diff’rent dresses worn,
  • What wonder modes in Wit should take their turn?
  • Oft, leaving what is natural and fit,
  • The current Folly proves the ready Wit;
  • And authors think their reputation safe,1903: 250
  • Which lives as long as fools are pleas’d to laugh.
• • Some, valuing those of their own side or mind,
  • Still make themselves the measure of mankind:
  • Fondly we think we honour merit then,
  • When we but praise ourselves in other men.
  • Parties in wit attend on those of state,
  • And public faction doubles private hate.
  • Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose,
  • In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaux:
  • But sense survived when merry jests were past;1903: 260
  • For rising merit will buoy up at last.
  • Might he return and bless once more our eyes,
  • New Blackmores and new Milbournes must arise.
  • Nay, should great Homer lift his awful head,
  • Zoilus again would start up from the dead.
  • Envy will Merit as its shade pursue,
  • But like a shadow proves the substance true;
  • For envied Wit, like Sol eclips’d, makes known
  • Th’ opposing body’s grossness, not its own.
  • When first that sun too powerful beams displays,1903: 270
  • It draws up vapours which obscure its rays;
  • But ev’n those clouds at last adorn its way,
  • Reflect new glories, and augment the day.
• • Be thou the first true merit to befriend;
  • His praise is lost who stays till all commend.
  • Short is the date, alas! of modern rhymes,
  • And ’t is but just to let them live betimes.
  • No longer now that Golden Age appears,
  • When patriarch wits survived a thousand years:
  • Now length of fame (our second life) is lost,1903: 280
  • And bare threescore is all ev’n that can boast:
  • Our sons their fathers’ failing language see,
  • And such as Chaucer is shall Dryden be.
  • So when the faithful pencil has design’d
  • Some bright idea of the master’s mind,
  • Where a new world leaps out at his command,
  • And ready Nature waits upon his hand;
  • When the ripe colours soften and unite,
  • And sweetly melt into just shade and light;
  • When mellowing years their full perfection give,1903: 290
  • And each bold figure just begins to live,
  • The treach’rous colours the fair art betray,
  • And all the bright creation fades away!
• • Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things,
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  • Atones not for that envy which it brings:
  • In youth alone its empty praise we boast,
  • But soon the short-lived vanity is lost;
  • Like some fair flower the early Spring supplies,
  • That gaily blooms, but ev’n in blooming dies.
  • What is this Wit, which must our cares employ?1903: 300
  • The owner’s wife that other men enjoy;
  • Then most our trouble still when most admired,
  • And still the more we give, the more required;
  • Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease,
  • Sure some to vex, but never all to please,
  • ’T is what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun;
  • By fools ’t is hated, and by knaves undone!
• • If Wit so much from Ignorance undergo,
  • Ah, let not Learning too commence its foe!
  • Of old those met rewards who could excel,1903: 310
  • And such were prais’d who but endeavour’d well;
  • Tho’ triumphs were to gen’rals only due,
  • Crowns were reserv’d to grace the soldiers too.
  • Now they who reach Parnassus’ lofty crown
  • Employ their pains to spurn some others down;
  • And while self-love each jealous writer rules,
  • Contending wits become the sport of fools;
  • But still the worst with most regret commend,
  • For each ill author is as bad a friend.
  • To what base ends, and by what abject ways,1903: 320
  • Are mortals urged thro’ sacred lust of praise!
  • Ah, ne’er so dire a thirst of glory boast,
  • Nor in the critic let the man be lost!
  • Good nature and good sense must ever join;
  • To err is human, to forgive divine.
• • But if in noble minds some dregs remain,
  • Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain,
  • Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes,
  • Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.
  • No pardon vile obscenity should find,1903: 330
  • Tho’ Wit and Art conspire to move your mind;
  • But dulness with obscenity must prove
  • As shameful sure as impotence in love.
  • In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease
  • Sprung the rank weed, and thrived with large increase:
  • When love was all an easy monarch’s care,
  • Seldom at council, never in a war;
  • Jilts ruled the state, and statesmen farces writ;
  • Nay wits had pensions, and young lords had wit;1903: 339
  • The Fair sat panting at a courtier’s play,
  • And not a mask went unimprov’d away;
  • The modest fan was lifted up no more,
  • And virgins smil’d at what they blush’d before.
  • The following license of a foreign reign
  • Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;
  • Then unbelieving priests reform’d the nation,
  • And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;
  • Where Heav’n’s free subjects might their rights dispute,
  • Lest God himself should seem too absolute;1903: 349
  • Pulpits their sacred satire learn’d to spare,
  • And vice admired to find a flatt’rer there!
  • Encouraged thus, Wit’s Titans braved the skies,
  • And the press groan’d with licens’d blasphemies.
  • These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,
  • Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!
  • Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice,
  • Will needs mistake an author into vice:
  • All seems infected that th’ infected spy,
  • As all looks yellow to the jaundic’d eye.

PART III

Rules for the conduct and manners in a Critic. Candour. Modesty. Good breeding. Sincerity and freedom of advice. When one’s counsel is to be restrained. Character of an Edition: current; Page: [75] incorrigible poet. And of an impertinent critic. Character of a good critic. The history of criticism, and characters of the best critics; Aristotle. Horace. Dionysius. Petronius. Quintilian. Longinus. Of the decay of Criticism, and its revival. Erasmus. Vida. Boileau. Lord Roscommon, &c. Conclusion.

• • Learn then what morals Critics ought to show,
  • For ’t is but half a judge’s task to know.
  • ’T is not enough Taste, Judgment, Learning join;
  • In all you speak let Truth and Candour shine;
  • That not alone what to your Sense is due
  • All may allow, but seek your friendship too.
• • Be silent always when you doubt your Sense,
  • And speak, tho’ sure, with seeming diffidence.
  • Some positive persisting fops we know,
  • Who if once wrong will needs be always so;1903: 10
  • But you with pleasure own your errors past,
  • And make each day a critique on the last.
• • ’T is not enough your counsel still be true;
  • Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
  • Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
  • And things unknown proposed as things forgot.
  • Without good breeding truth is disapprov’d;
  • That only makes superior Sense belov’d.
• • Be niggards of advice on no pretence,
  • For the worst avarice is that of Sense.1903: 20
  • With mean complacence ne’er betray your trust,
  • Nor be so civil as to prove unjust.
  • Fear not the anger of the wise to raise;
  • Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
• • ’T were well might critics still this freedom take,
  • But Appius reddens at each word you speak,
  • And stares tremendous, with a threat’ning eye,
  • Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry.
  • Fear most to tax an honourable fool,
  • Whose right it is, uncensured to be dull:1903: 30
  • Such without Wit, are poets when they please,
  • As without Learning they can take degrees.
  • Leave dangerous truths to unsuccessful satires,
  • And flattery to fulsome dedicators;
  • Whom, when they praise, the world believes no more
  • Than when they promise to give scribbling o’er.
  • ’T is best sometimes your censure to restrain,
  • And charitably let the dull be vain;
  • Your silence there is better than your spite,
  • For who can rail so long as they can write?1903: 40
  • Still humming on their drowsy course they keep,
  • And lash’d so long, like tops, are lash’d asleep.
  • False steps but help them to renew the race,
  • As, after stumbling, jades will mend their pace.
  • What crowds of these, impenitently bold,
  • In sounds and jingling syllables grown old,
  • Still run on poets, in a raging vein,
  • Ev’n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain,
  • Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense,
  • And rhyme with all the rage of impotence!1903: 50
• • Such shameless bards we have; and yet ’t is true
  • There are as mad abandon’d critics too.
  • The bookful blockhead ignorantly read,
  • With loads of learned lumber in his head,
  • With his own tongue still edifies his ears,
  • And always list’ning to himself appears.
  • All books he reads, and all he reads assails,
  • From Dryden’s Fables down to Durfey’s Tales.
  • With him most authors steal their works, or buy;
  • Garth did not write his own Dispensary.1903: 60
  • Name a new play, and he’s the poet’s friend;
  • Nay, show’d his faults—but when would poets mend?
  • No place so sacred from such fops is barr’d,
  • Nor is Paul’s church more safe than Paul’s churchyard:
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  • Nay, fly to altars; there they ’ll talk you dead;
  • For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
  • Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks, }
  • It still looks home, and short excursions makes; }
  • But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks }
  • And never shock’d, and never turn’d aside,1903: 70
  • Bursts out, resistless, with a thund’ring tide.
• • But where ’s the man who counsel can bestow,
  • Still pleas’d to teach, and yet not proud to know?
  • Unbiass’d or by favour or by spite;
  • Not dully prepossess’d nor blindly right;
  • Tho’ learn’d, well bred, and tho’ well bred sincere;
  • Modestly bold, and humanly severe;
  • Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
  • And gladly praise the merit of a foe;
  • Bless’d with a taste exact, yet unconfin’d,
  • A knowledge both of books and humankind;1903: 81
  • Gen’rous converse; a soul exempt from pride;
  • And love to praise, with reason on his side?
  • Such once were critics; such the happy few
  • Athens and Rome in better ages knew.
  • The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore,
  • Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore;
  • He steer’d securely, and discover’d far,
  • Led by the light of the Mæonian star.
  • Poets, a race long unconfin’d and free,1903: 90
  • Still fond and proud of savage liberty,
  • Receiv’d his laws, and stood convinc’d ’t was fit
  • Who conquer’d Nature should preside o’er Wit.
• • Horace still charms with graceful negligence,
  • And without method talks us into sense;
  • Will, like a friend, familiarly convey
  • The truest notions in the easiest way.
  • He who, supreme in judgment as in wit,
  • Might boldly censure as he boldly writ,
  • Yet judg’d with coolness, though he sung with fire;1903: 100
  • His precepts teach but what his works inspire.
  • Our critics take a contrary extreme,
  • They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm;
  • Nor suffers Horace more in wrong translations
  • By Wits, than Critics in as wrong quotations.
  • See Dionysius Homer’s thoughts refine,
  • And call new beauties forth from ev’ry line!
  • Fancy and art in gay Petronius please,
  • The Scholar’s learning with the courtier’s ease.
• • In grave Quintilian’s copious work we find1903: 110
  • The justest rules and clearest method join’d.
  • Thus useful arms in magazines we place,
  • All ranged in order, and disposed with grace;
  • But less to please the eye than arm the hand,
  • Still fit for use, and ready at command.
• • Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire,
  • And bless their critic with a poet’s fire:
  • An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust,
  • With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just;
  • Whose own example strengthens all his laws,1903: 120
  • And is himself that great sublime he draws.
• • Thus long succeeding critics justly reign’d,
  • License repress’d, and useful laws ordain’d:
  • Learning and Rome alike in empire grew,
  • And arts still follow’d where her eagles flew;
  • From the same foes at last both felt their doom,
  • And the same age saw learning fall and Rome.
  • With tyranny then superstition join’d,
  • As that the body, this enslaved the mind;
  • Much was believ’d, but little understood,
  • And to be dull was construed to be good;
  • A second deluge learning thus o’errun,1903: 132
  • And the monks finish’d what the Goths begun.
• • At length Erasmus, that great injur’d name,
  • (The glory of the priesthood and the shame!)
  • Stemm’d the wild torrent of a barb’rous age,
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  • And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.
• • But see! each Muse in Leo’s golden days
  • Starts from her trance, and trims her wither’d bays.
  • Rome’s ancient genius, o’er its ruins spread,1903: 140
  • Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev’rend head.
  • Then sculpture and her sister arts revive;
  • Stones leap’d to form, and rocks began to live;
  • With sweeter notes each rising temple rung;
  • A Raphael painted and a Vida sung:
  • Immortal Vida! on whose honour’d brow
  • The poet’s bays and critic’s ivy grow:
  • Cremona now shall ever boast thy name,
  • As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!
• • But soon by impious arms from Latium chased,1903: 150
  • Their ancient bounds the banish’d Muses pass’d;
  • Thence arts o’er all the northern world advance,
  • But critic learning flourish’d most in France;
  • The rules a nation born to serve obeys,
  • And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.
  • But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised,
  • And kept unconquer’d and uncivilized;
  • Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,
  • We still defied the Romans, as of old.
  • Yet some there were, among the sounder few1903: 160
  • Of those who less presumed and better knew,
  • Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,
  • And here restor’d Wit’s fundamental laws.
  • Such was the Muse whose rules and practice tell
  • ‘Nature’s chief masterpiece is writing well.’
  • Such was Roscommon, not more learn’d than good,
  • With manners gen’rous as his noble blood;
  • To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
  • And every author’s merit but his own.
  • Such late was Walsh—the Muse’s judge and friend,1903: 170
  • Who justly knew to blame or to commend;
  • To failings mild but zealous for desert,
  • The clearest head, and the sincerest heart.
  • This humble praise, lamented Shade! receive;
  • This praise at least a grateful Muse may give:
  • The Muse whose early voice you taught to sing,
  • Prescribed her heights, and pruned her tender wing,
  • (Her guide now lost), no more attempts to rise,
  • But in low numbers short excursions tries;
  • Content if hence th’ unlearn’d their wants may view,1903: 180
  • The learn’d reflect on what before they knew;
  • Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
  • Still pleas’d to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
  • Averse alike to flatter or offend;
  • Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA’S DAY

This ode was written at the suggestion of Richard Steele, in 1708. It was recast in 1730 in briefer form so that it might be set to music; and the first four stanzas were considerably changed.