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nity, I have enough to keep me from hanging myself, or even from wishing those hanged who would take it away. It was this that made me write. The fenfe of my faults made me correct: befides that it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write.

At p. xix. 1. 12. In the first place I own that I have used my best endeavours to the finishing thefe pieces. That I made what advantage I could of the judgment of authors dead and living; and that I omitted no means in my power to be informed of my errors by my friends and my enemies: And that I expect no favour on account of my youth, business, want of health, or any fuch idle excuses. But the true reason they are not yet more correct is owing to the confideration how short a time they, and I, have to live. A man that can expect but fixty years may be ashamed to employ thirty in measuring fyllables and bringing fenfe and rhyme together. We spend our youth in pursuit of riches or fame, in hopes to enjoy them when we are old, and when we are old, we find it is too late to enjoy any thing. I therefore hope the Wits will pardon me, if I referve fome of my time to fave my foul; and that fome wife men will be of

my

opinion, even if I should think a part of it better spent in the enjoyments of life than in pleafing the critics.

On Mr. POPE and his Poems,

By His GRACE

JOHN SHEFFIELD,

W

Duke of BUCKINGHA M.

ITH Age decay'd, with Courts and
bus'nefs tir'd,

Caring for nothing but what Ease requir'd;
Too dully serious for the Mufe's sport,
And from the Critics fafe arriv'd in Port;
I little thought of launching forth agen,
Amidft advent'rous Rovers of the Pen:
And after fo much undeferv'd fuccefs,
Thus hazarding at last to make it less.
Encomiums fuit not this cenforious time,
Itself a Subject for fatyric rhyme;
Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd!
But to this Genius, join'd with so much Art,
Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part,

5

ΙΟ

Poets are bound a loud applause to pay;
Apollo bids it, and they must obey.

15

And yet so wonderful, fublime a thing,
As the great ILIAD, fcarce could make me fing;
Except I justly could at once commend

A good Companion, and as firm a Friend.
One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed
Can all defert in Sciences exceed.

20

'Tis great delight to laugh at some mens ways, But a much greater to give Merit praise.

To Mr. POPE on his Paftorals.

IN these more dull, as more cenforious days,

When few dare give, and fewer merit praise, A Mufe fincere, that never Flatt'ry knew,. Pays what to friendship and defert is due. Young, yet judicious; in your verse are found 5 Artftrength'ning Nature, Sense improv'd bySound. Unlike thofe Wits, whofe numbers glide along So smooth, no thought e'er interrupts the fong: Laboriously enervate they appear,

And write not to the head, but to the ear:

ΙΟ

Our minds unmov'd and unconcern'd they lull, And are at best most mufically dull:

So purling streams with even murmurs creep, And hush the heavy hearers into sleep.

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As smoothest speech is most deceitful found, 15 The smootheft numbers oft are empty found. But Wit and Judgment join at once in you, Sprightly as Youth, as Age confummate too: Your strains are regularly bold, and please With unforc'd care, and unaffected ease, With proper thoughts, and lively images: Such as by Nature to the Antients shewn, Fancy improves, and judgment makes your own: For great mens fashions to be follow'd are, Altho' difgraceful 'tis their clothes to wear. 25 Some in a polish'd style write Pastoral, Arcadia speaks the language of the Mall; Like fome fair Shepherdefs, the Sylvan Muse, Should wear those flow'rs her native fields produce; And the true measure of the Shepherd's wit 30 Should, like his garb, be for the Country fit; Yet must his pure and unaffected thought More nicely than the common fwains be wrought. So, with becoming art, the Players dress In filks the shepherd, and the shepherdess; 35

Yet ftill unchang'd the form and mode remain, Shap'd like the homely ruffet of the swain. Your rural Muse appears to juftify

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The long loft graces of Simplicity:
So rural beauties captivate our sense
With virgin charms, and native excellence.
Yet long her Modesty those charms conceal'd,
'Till by mens Envy to the world reveal'd;
For Wits industrious to their trouble feem,
And needs will envy what they must esteem. 45

Live and enjoy their spite! nor mourn that fate, Which would, if Virgil liv'd, on Virgil wait; Whofe Mufe did once, like thine, in plains delight; Thine fhall, like his, foon take a higher flight; So Larks, which first from lowly fields arise, 50 Mount by degrees, and reach at laft the fkies.

W. WYCHERLEY.

To Mr. POPE, on his Windfor-Foreft.

AIL, facred Bard! a Mufe unknown before

HALL

Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic shore. To our dark world thy fhining page is shown,

And Windfor's gay retreat becomes our own.

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