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VERSES TO DR. GARTH.
Critics and aged beaux of fancy chaste,
| Who ne'er had fire, or else whose fire is paft, ? DR. GARTH, Muft judge by rules what they want force to
talte. UPON THE
I would a poct, like a mistress, try,
Not by her hair, her hand, her nose, her eye; }
But by fome nameless power, to give me joy.
The nymph has Grafton's, Cecil's, Churchill's H that some genius, whose poetic vein
charms, Like Montague's could a init piece sustain,
If with resiftless fires my soul sne warms, Would search the Grecian and the Latin store,
With balm upon her lips, and raptures in her And thence present thee with the purelt ore :
arms. In lasting numbers praise thy whole design,
Such is thy genius, and such art is thine, And manly beauty of each nervous line :
Some fecret magic works in every line; Show how your pointed satire's sterling wit,
We judge not, but wc feel the power divine. Does only knaves or formal blockheads hit;
Where all is juft, is beauteous, and is fair, Who’re gravely dull, infipidly ferene,
Distinctions vanish of peculiar air. And carry all their wisdom in their mien;
Lost in our pleasure, we enjoy in you Whom thus expos'd, thus stripp'd of their dis
b'd of their dir. Lucretius, Horace, Sheffield, Montague. guise,
And yet 'tis thought, some critics in this town, None will again admire, most will despise !
By rules to all, but to themselves, unknown, & Shew in what noble verse Nassau you fing,
Will damn thy verse, and justify their own. How such a poet's worthy such a king!
Why let them damn: were it not wondrous hard When Somers' charming eloquence you praise,
Facetious Mirmil - and the City Bard, How loftily your tuneful voice you raise !
So near ally'd in learning, wit, and skill, But my poor feeble muse is as unfit
Should not have leave to judge, as well as kill? To praise, as imitate what you have writ.
Nay, let them write; let them thcir forces join, Artists alonc should venture to commend
And hope the motley piece may rival thine. What Dennis can't condemn, nor Dryden mend :
Safely despise their malice, and their toil, What mult, writ with that fire and with that ease,
Which vulgar ears alone will reach, and will defile. The beaux, the ladies, and the critics, please.
Be it thy generous pride to please thc best,
Whose judgment, and whose friendship, is a ten
Search thoughtful Ratcliffe to his inmost mind; ?
Whene'er thou would'ít a tempting Muse engage,
Judicious Walsh can best direct her rage.
To Somers and to Dorset too submit, DESIRING MY OPINION OF MS POEM.
And let their flamp immortalize thy wit.
Consenting Phæbus bows, if they approve, A SK me not, friend, what I approve or
And ranks thee with the foremost bards above. blame ;
Whilst these of right the deathless laurel send, Perhaps I know not why I like, or damn;
Be it my humble business to commend I can be pleas'd; and I dare own I am.
The faithful, honest man, and the well-natur'd I read thee over with a lover's eye;
friend. Thc haft no faults, or I no faults can spy; }
CHR. CODRINGTON. Thou art all beauty, or all blindness I.
• Dr. Gibbons. VOL. IV.