can bear reproof who merit praise.
'Twere well might critics still this freedom take, But Appius reddens at
each word you speak, [585] And stares, tremendous with a threatening
eye, Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry Fear most to tax an
honorable fool Whose right it is uncensured to be dull 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.
'Tis 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? Still humming on, their drowsy course they
keep, And lashed so long like tops are lashed 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, Even to the
dregs and squeezing of the brain; Strain out the last dull droppings of
their sense, And rhyme with all the rage of impotence!
Such shameless bards we have, and yet, 'tis true, There are as mad
abandoned 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 listening to himself appears All books he reads
and all he reads assails From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales
[617] With him most authors steal their works or buy; Garth did not
write his own Dispensary [619] Name a new play, and he's the poets
friend Nay, showed his faults--but when would poets mend? No place
so sacred from such fops is barred, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than
Paul's Churchyard: [623] 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 shocked, and
never turned aside. Bursts out, resistless, with a thundering tide,
But where's the man who counsel can bestow, Still pleased to teach,
and yet not proud to know? Unbiased, or by favor, or in spite, Not dully
prepossessed, nor blindly right; Though learned, well-bred, and though
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? Blessed
with a taste exact, yet unconfined; A knowledge both of books and
human kind; Generous 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 Stagirite first left the shore, [645] Spread all his
sails, and durst the deeps explore; He steered securely, and discovered
far, Led by the light of the Maeonian star. [648] Poets, a race long
unconfined and free, Still fond and proud of savage liberty, Received
his laws, and stood convinced 'twas fit, Who conquered nature, should
preside o'er wit. [652]
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 judged with coolness
though he sung with fire; 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, [665] And call new beauties
forth from every line!
Fancy and art in gay Petronius please, [667] The scholar's learning with
the courtier's ease.
In grave Quintilian's copious work we find [669] The justest rules and
clearest method joined: 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, [675] 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; And is himself that great sublime he draws.
Thus long succeeding critics justly reigned, License repressed, and
useful laws ordained. Learning and Rome alike in empire grew; And
arts still followed where her eagles flew, From the same foes at last,
both felt their doom, And the same age saw learning fall, and Rome.
[686]
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