THE SATIRES O F Dr. JOHN DONNE, Dean of ST. PAUL's, VERSIFIED. Quid vetat et nofmet Lucili fcripta legentes HOR. THE SATIRES of Dr. DONNE. THE manly Wit of Donne, which was the Character of his genius, fuited beft with Satire; and in this he excelled, tho' he wrote but little; fix fhort poems being all we find amongst his writings of this fort. Mr. Pope has embellished two of them with his wit and harmony. He called it verfifying them, because indeed the lines have nothing more of numbers than their being compofed of a certain quantity of fyllables. This is the more to be admired, becaufe, as appears by his other poems, and especially from that fine one called the Progrefs of the Soul, his Verfe did not want harmony. But, I fuppofe, he took the fermoni propiora of Horace too seriously, and so would imitate it literally, or rather was content with the character his master give of Lucilius, Emunctae naris durus componere verfus. Having spoken of his Progrefs of the Soul, let me add, that Poetry never loft more than by his not purfuing and finishing that noble Defign; of which he has only given us the Introduction. With regard to his Satires, it is almost as much to be lamented that Mr. Pope did not give us a Paraphrafe, in his manner, of the Third, the nobleft Work not only of This, but perhaps of any fatiric Poet. To fupply this lofs in fome fmall degree, I have here inferted it, in the verfification of Dr. Parnell. It will at least ferve to fhew the force of Dr. Donne's genius, and of Mr. Pope's; by removing all that was ruftic and shocking in the former, and not being able to reach one fingle grace of the other. Compaffion checks my fpleen, yet Scorn denies The tears a paffage thro' my fwelling eyes; To laugh or weep at fins, might idly show 5 Is not Religion (Heav'n-defcended dame) When the best Heathens faw by doubtful day? These means are ours, and must its End be theirs? Oh! if thy temper fuch a fear can find, This fear were valour of the nobleft kind. Dar'ft thou provoke, when rebel fouls afpire, 10 15 20 25 30 Or for fome Idol of thy Fancy draw, 35 Some loose-gown'd dame; O courage made of ftraw! And leave, for wars forbid, the appointed field? 40 You ftrive to please, the foremost of the Three; 1 By Faith Implicite blind Ignaro led, She there was feen a thousand years ago; And loves her Relick rags, as men obey The foot-cloth where the Prince fat yesterday. These pageant Forms are whining Obed's fcorn, Who feeks Religion at Geneva born, 45 50 55 60. |