« הקודםהמשך »
Of softest manners, unaffected mind,
Lover of peace, and friend of human kind :
Go, live! for Heaven's eternal year is thing,
Go, and exale thy moral to divine.
And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom, Tuy relicks, Rowé, co this fair urn we trust, Pensive haft follow'd ro the filent tomb, And sacred, place by Dryden's awful duft :
Steer'd the same course to the same quiet fhore, Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
Not parted long, and now to part no more! To which thy tomb fhall guide inquiring eyes,
Go then, where only bliss sincere is known! Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! Go, where to love and to enjoy are one ! Bleft in thy genius, in thy love too blest!
Yet take these tears, mortality's relief, One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
And till we share your joys, forgive our grief : What a whole thankless land to his denies.
Thefe little rites, a stone, a verse receive;
erected Rowe and his daughter.
To these so mouro'd in death, so lov'd in life;
In Wifminfter-Abbey, 1723.
Living, great nature fear'd he might outvie
ON MRS. CORBET,
W lo died of a Cancer in ber Breast.
In WeAtminfer- Abbey, 1729.
Withers, Adieu! yet not with thec remove
Here rests a woman, good without pretence,
ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON, On the Monument of the Honourable ROBERT DIGBY,
At Eafbamfled, in Berks, 1730. and of bis Sifier Mary, ere&led by tbeir Father tbe This modeft ftone, what few vain marbles can, LORD Digøy, in the Church of Sberborne, in Dor. May truly say, Here lies an honest man : fetsbire, 1727.
A poet, blest beyond the poets fatc, [great ;
Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and Go! fair example of untainted youth,
Foc to loud praise, and friend to learned case, Of modeft wisdom, and pacific truth;
Content with science in the vale of peace, Compos'd in sufferings, and in joy sedate, Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Good without noise, without pretension great. Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; Just of thy word, in every thought fincere, From nature's temperate feast rose fatisfy'd, Who knew ng with but what the world might Thank'd Heaven that he had liv'd, and that he bear :
ON EDMOND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,
Wbo died in the Nineteenth Year of bis Age, 1735. hi manners gentle, of affections mild;
lé modeft youth, with cool reflection crown'd, In wit, a man ; fimplicity, a child :
And every opening virtue blooming round, With native humour tempering virtuous rage; Could save a parent's justest pride from fate, Form’d to delight at once and lafh the age : Or add one patriot to a finking state; Above temptation in a low estate,
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear, And encorrupted, ev'n among the great : Or sadly told, how many hopes lie here! A safe companion, and an ealy friend,
The living virtue now had shone approv'd,
And, chiefs or fages long to Britain given,
Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.
So there's an end of honeft Jack : So little justice here he found,
XV. 'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
POR ONE wło would NOT BE BURIED IN Westa
Heroe's and kings ! your distance keep!
In peace let one pnor poet sleep,
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.
ANOTHER, ON THE SAME.
Under this marbre, or under this fill,
Or Under this turf, or e'en what they will;
Whatever an heir, or a triend in his stead,
Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head,
Lies one who ne'er car'd, and still cares not a pin, Nature, and nature's laws lay hid in night :
What they said, or may lay of the mortal within: God said, let Newton be! and all was light.
But who, living and dying, serene ftill and free,
XVI. ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY, LORD CONINGSBY'S EPITAPH *.
Here lies Lord Coningsby-be civil; $1$HOP OF ROCHESTER,
The reft God knows-lo does the Devil. W ba died in Exile at Paris, 1932. (His only Daughter having expired in his armis,
XVII. immediately after the arrived in France to fee
ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT.
Perbags by Mr. Pope.
Respect to Dryden, Sheffield juftly pay'd,
This pyramid would better far proclaim,
To future ages, humbler Settle's name:
randula, is applied to F. Chartres, and printed among -He faid, and dy'd. tbe werks of Swift.
LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER,
OCCASIONED BY THE
FIRST CORRECT EDITION OF THE DUNCIAD.
It is with pleasure I hear, that you have procured I found this was not all : ill success in that had a correa copy of the Dunciad, which the many transported them to personal abuse, cither of himfurreptitious ones have rendered fo necessary; and felf, or (what I think he could less forgive) of his it is yet with more, that I am informed it will be friends. They had called men of virtue and hoattended with a Commentary: a work so requi- nour bad men, long before he had either leisure or site, that I cannot think the author himself would inclination to call them bad writers: and some had have omitted it, bad he approved of the first ap- been such old offenders, that he had quite forgotpearance of this poem.
ten their persons as well as their landets, till they Such notes as bare occurred to me, I herewith were pleased to revive them. fend you : you will oblige me by inserting them Now what had Mr. Pope done before, to ipamongst those which are, or will be, transmitted cense them? He had published those works which 1o you by others; since not only the author's are in the hands of every body, in which not the friends, but even strangers, appear engaged by leaft mention is made of any of them. And what humanity, to take some care of an orphan of lo has he done since ? He has laughed, and written much genius and spirit, which its parent secms to the Dunciad. What has that faid of them? A very have abandoned from the very beginning, and suf. Serious truth, which the public had said before, fered to step into the world naked, unguarded, and that they were dull: and what it had no sooner unattended.
said, but they themselves were at great pains to It was upon reading some of the abusive papers procure, or even purchase, room in the prints, to lately published, that my great regard to a person, ieftify under their hands to the truth of it
. whose friendship I esteem as one of the chief ho I should still have been silent, if either I had nours of my life, and a much greater respect to seen any inclination in my friend to be serious with truth, than to him or any man living, engaged such accusers, or if they had only meddled with me in inquiries, of which the enclosed notes are his writings; since whoever publishes, puts himself the fruit.
on his trial by his country. But when his moral I perceived, that most of these authors had been character was attacked, and in a manner from (doubtless very wisely) the first aggressors. They which neither truth nor virtue can secure the most had tried, till they were weary, what was to be innocent; in a manner, which, though it annihi. got by railing at cach other : nobody was either lates the credit of the accusation with the just and concerned or surprised, if this or that scribbler was impartial, yet aggravates very much the guilt of proved a dunce. But every one was curious to the accusers ; I mean by authors without names; read what could be said to prove Mr. Popc one, then I thought, since the danger was common to and was ready to pay something for such a disco all, the concern onght to be fo; and that it was very: a fratagem which would they fairly own, an ad of justice to detect the authors, not only on it might not only reconcile them to me, but screen this account, but as many of them are the fame them from the relentment of their lawful fuperi- who for several years past have made frec with the ors, whom they daily abuse, only (as 1 charitably greatest names in church and state, exposed to the hope) to get that by them, which they cannot get world the private misfortunes of families, abused from them.
all, cuch to women, and whole prostituted papers
(for one or other party, in the unhappy divisions | paleness or leanness, but against malice and villaof their country) have insulted the fallen, the sy. The apothecary in Romeo and Juliet is poor; friendless, the exiled, and the dead.
but is he therefore justified in vending poison ? Besides this, which I take to be a public con Not but poverty itself becomes a just subject of facern, I have already confessed I had a private one. eire, when it is the consequence of vice, prodigaI am one of that number who have long loved and lity, or neglect of one's lawful calling; for then, esteemed Mr. Pope ; and had often declared it it increases the public burden, fills the streets and was not his capacity or writings (which we ever highways with robbers, and the garrets with clipthought the lealt valuable part of his character), pers, coiners, aed weekly journalists. but the honest, open, and beneficent man, that we But omitting that two or three of these offend molt esteemed, and loved in him. Now, if what less in their morals than in their writings ; must these people say were believed, I must appear to poverty make nonsense sacred ? If so, the fame of all my friends either a fool, or a knave; either im- bad authors would be much better consulted than posed on myself, or imposing on them; so that I am that of all the good ones in the world; and not one as much interested in the confutation of these ca- of an hundred had ever been called by his righc lumnies, as he is himself.
I am no author, and consequently not to be suf They mistake the whole matter : it is not chapeded either of jealousy or resentment against any rity to encourage them in the way they follow, of the men, of whom scarce one is known to me but to get them out of it; for men are not bungby fight; and as for their writings, I have fought lers because they are poor, but they are poor bethem (on this one occafion) in vain, in the closets cause they are bunglers. and libraries of all my acquaintance. I had still Is it not pleasant enough, to hear our authors been in the dark, if a gentleman had not procured crying out on the one hand, as if their persons me (I suppose from some of themselves, for they and characters were too sacred for fatire; and the are generally much more dangerous friends than public objecting on the other, that they are too enemies) the passages I send you. I folemnly pro- mean even for ridicule ? But whether bread or test I have added nothing to the malice or absur- fame be their end, it mult be allowed, our author, dity of them; which it behoves me to declare, fince by and in this poem, has mercifully given them a the vouchers themselves will be so soon and so ir little of both." recoverably loft. You may in some measure pre There are two or three, who by their rank and vent it, by preserving at least their titles (a), and fortune have no benefit from the former objeco discovering (as far as you can depend on the truth tions, supposing them good; and these I was sorry of your information) the names of the concealed to see in such company. But if, without any proauthors.
vocation, two or three gentlemen will fall upon The first objection I have heard made to the one, in an affair wherein his interest and reputapoem, is, that the persons are too obscure for fa- tion are equally embarked ; they cannot certainly, tise. The persons themselves, rather than allow after they have been content to print themselves the objection, would forgive the satire ; and if his enemies, complain of being put into the numone could be tempted to afford it a serious answer, ber of them. were not all assassinates, popular insurrections, the Others, I am told, pretend to have been once insolence of the rabble without doors, and of do- his friends. Surely they are their enemies who mestics within, most wrongfully chastised, if the lay so; since nothing can be more odious than to meanness of offenders indemnified them from pu. treat a friend as they have done. But of this ! nishment? On the contrary, obscurity renders them cannot persuade myself, when I consider the conmore dangerous, as less thought of: law can pro- ftant and eternal aversion of all bad writers to a nounce judgment only on open facts : morality good one. alone can pass censure on intentions of mischief; Such as claim a merit from being his admirers, so that for secret calumny,, or the arrow dying in I would gladly ask, if it lays him under a personal the dark, there is no publie punishment left, but obligation? At that rate, he would be the most what a good writer inficts.
obliged humble servant in the world. I dare swear The next objedion is, that these sort of authors for these in particular, he never desired them to be are poor. That might be pleaded as an excuse at his admirers, nor promised in return to be theirs : the Old Bailey, for lefser crimes than defamation that had truly been a sign he was of their ac(for it is the case of almost all who are tried quaintance; but would not the malicious world there), but fure it can be none here : for who will have suspected such an approbation of some motive pretend that the robbing another of his reputation worse than ignorance, in the author of the Essay fupplies the want of it in himself? I question not on Criticism? Be it as it will, the reasons of their but such authors are poor, and heartily wish the admiration, and of his contempt, are equally subobje&ion were removed by any honest livelihood. fisting, for his works and theirs are the very famę But poverty is here the accident, not the subject : that they were. he who describes malice and villany to be pale One, therefore, of their assertions I believe may and meagre, expresses not the least anger against be true, " That he has a contempt for their write
“ ings.” And there is another which would pro(2) Which we have done in a lift printed in the Ap- bably be sooner allowed by himself than by any pendix.
good judge befide, “ That his own have found tom
« much success with the public.” But as it cannot , should give us an edition of this poem himself, 1 confil with his modefty to claim this as a justice, may see some of them treated as gently, on their it lies not on him, but entirely on the public, to repentance or better merit, as Perrault and Quidefend its own judgment.
nault were at last by Boileau. There remains what in my opinion might seem In one point I must be allowed to think the chaa better plea for these people, than any they have rader of our English poet the more amiable. He made use of. If obscurity or poverty were to ex has not been a follower of fortune or success; he empt a man from fatire, much more Mould folly has lived with the great without flattery ; been a or dulness, which are ftill more involuntary; nay, friend to men in power, without pensions, from as much so as personal deformity. But even this whom, as he asked, so he received no favour, but will not help them : deforinity becomes an object what was done him in his friends. As his Satires of ridicule when a man sets up for being handsome; were the more just for being delayed, so were his and so must dulness when he sets up for a wit. Panegyrics; bestowed only on such persons as he They are not ridiculed because ridicule in itself is, had familiarly known, only for such virtues as he or ought to be, a pleasure ; but because it is just to had long observed in them, and only at such times undeceive and vindicate the honest and unpretendo as others cease to praise, if not begin to calumniate ing part of mankind from impofition, because par- them, I mean when out of power or out of faticular interest ought to yield to general, and a shion (c). A satire, therefore, on writers so notogreat number who are not naturally fools, ought rious for the contrary pra&ice, became no man so never to be made fo, in complaisance to a few who well as himself; as none, it is plain, was so little are. Accordingly we find that in all ages, all vain in their friendships, or so much in that of those pretenders, were they ever so poor or ever fo dull, whom they had most abused, namely the greatest have been constantly the topics of the most candid and best of all parties. Let me add a further reafatirists, from the Codrus of Juvenal to the Danion fon, that, though engaged in their friendships, he of Boileau.
never espoused their abimofities; and can almost Having mentioned Boileau, the greatest poet fingly challenge this honour, not to have written and most judicious critic of his age and country, ad a line of any man, which, through guilt, through mirable for his talents, and yet perhaps more ad-shame, or through fear, through variety of fortune, mirable for his judgment in the proper application or change of interests, he was ever unwilling to own. of them; I cannot help remarking the resemblance I shall conclude with remarking, what a pleasure betwixt him and our author, in qualities, fame, it must be to every reader of humanity, to see all and fortune; in the distinctions hown them by along, that our author, in his very laughter, is their superiors, in the general esteem of their not indulging his own ill-nature, but only punisheqnals, and in their extended reputation amongst ing that of others. As to his Poem, those alone foreigners; in the latter of which ours has met are capable of doing it juftice, who, to use the with the better fate, as he has had for his transla words of a great writer, know how hard it is tors persons of the most eminent rank and abilities (with regard both to his subje& and his manner) in their respective pations(b). But the resemblance “ Vecustis dare novitatem, obsoletis nitorem, obholds in nothing more than in their being equally“ scuris lucem, faftiditis gratiam. abused by the ignorant pretenders to poetry of their times; of which not the least memory will
I am your most humble servant, in in most all his poems, our author has only in this: I dare answer for him, he will do it in no more; and on this principle, of attacking few but who had claimed against bis book of Poems ; Mr. Walfb, after
(c) As Mr. Wycherly, at the time the town dea flandered him, he could not have done it at all, bis death; Sir William Trumball, wben be bad rehad he been confined from censuring obscure and Jigned the office of Secretary of State ; Lord Bolingo worthless persons, for scarce any other were his broke, at bis leaving Enghand, after the queen's deats ; enemies
. However, as the parity is so remarkable, Lord Oxford, in bis lafi decline of life ; Mr. Secretary I hope it will continue to the last; and if ever he
Craggs, at the end of ibe South-sea year, and after bis
death : others only in epitipbs. (6) Efay on Criticism in French verse, by General
(d) Tbis gentleman was of Scotland, and bred at the Hamilton; the fame, in verse also, by Monsieur Roles university of Utrecbt, with the Earl of Mar. He served ton, Counsellor and Prioy Secretary to King George 1.
in Spain under Ear! Rivers. After the peace, be was after by ibe Abbé Reyne', in verf, with notes, Rape of made one of the Commisioners of the Customs in Scotile Lock, in French, by the Princess of Conti, Paris land, and iben of tanes in England: in wbicb, buving 1728 ; and in Italian oerfe, by the Abbé Conti, e noble down kimself for twenty years diligent, punctual, and Venetian ; and the Marquis Rangoni, Envoy Extraor- incorruptibie (iboug) without any otber offisance of fordinary from Modena to King George II. Orbers of tune), be was fudden'y displaced by the minister, in tbe bis works by Salvini of Florence, &c. His Elays and fixty-eighth year of bis age ; and died two months after, Differtations on Homer, several times translated into l'in 1741. He was a person of universal learning, and French. Effay on Man, by the Abbé Reynel, in verse i
an enlarged conversation ; no man bad a warmer beart by Monsieur Silhout, in profe, 1737, and fince by others for bis friend, or a fiacerer attachment to the confitntion in French, Italian, and Latin.
of bis country.
made upon them. What Boileau has done in al. Det: 19.12.2} WILLIAM CLELAND (4).