Of village beauties, pastorally sweet,
And rurally magnificent. Fairlawn 9
Opes her delightful prospects; dear Fairlawn
There, where at once at variance and agreed,
Nature and art hold dalliance. There where rills
Kiss the green drooping herbage, there where

trees

The tall trees tremble at th' approach of Heav'n, And bow their salutation to the Sun,

Who fosters all their foliage-These are thine, Yes, little Shipbourne, boast that these are thine

And if-but oh!-and if 'tis no disgrace,
The birth of him who now records thy praise.

Nor shalt thou, Mereworth, remain unsung,
Where noble Westmorland, his country's friend,
Bids British greatness love the silent shade,
Where piles superb, in classic elegance,
Arise, and all is Roman, like his heart.

Nor Chatham, tho' it is not thine to show
The lofty forest or the verdant lawns,

Yet' niggard silence shall not grudge thee praise.
The lofty forests by thy sons prepar'd
Fecomes the warlike navy, braves the floods,
And gives Sylvanus empire in the main.
Oh that Britannia, in the day of war,
Wou'd not alone Minerva's valour trust,
But also hear her wisdom! Then her oaks
Shap'd by her own mechanics, wou'd alone
Her island fortify, and fix her fame;
Nor wou'd she weep, like Rachael, for her sons,
Whose glorious blood, in mad profusion,
In foreign lands is shed-and shed in vain.

THE

HILLIAD:

AN EPIC POEM.

Pallas te hoc vulnere, Pallas Immolat, & pœnam scelerato ex sanguine sumit. VIRG.

A LETTER

TO A FRIEND AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.

I

Dear **

Am now to acknowledge several letters, which I lately received from you, without any return on my part. As I have been very much hurried of late with a multiplicity of affairs, I must beg you will not only be kind enough to overlook my past omission, but to indulge me for a little time longer. As soon as I am master of sufficient leisure, I will give you my sentiments without reserve, concerning the affair, about which you have thought proper to consult me; for the present I desire you will consider this as a receipt for your many favours, or a promissory note to discharge my debt of friendship as soon as possible.

?The seat of lord Vane.

The design and colouring of a poem, such as you have planned, are not to be executed in a hurry, but with slow and careful touches, which will give that finishing to your piece, remarkab`e in every thing that comes from your hand, and which I could wish the precipitancy of my temper would permit me to aim at upon all occasions. I long to see you take a new flight to the regions of fame, not upon unequal wings, that sometimes rise to a degree of elevation, and then fall again, but with an uniform tenour, like the bird in Virgil,

Radit iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas.

I have been now for about three weeks in this scene of smoke and dust, and I think the repuhlic of letters seems to be lamentably upon the dea cline in this metropolis. Attornies clerks, and raw unexperienced boys, are the chief critics we have at present. With a supercilious look and peremptory voice, which they have caught from a few of their oracles, as dark and ignorant as themselves, these striplings take upon them to decide upon fable, character, language and sentiment.

Nescis, heu nescis dominæ fastidia Romæ ;
Crede mihi, nimium Martia turba sapit.

With regard to writers, the town swarms with them, and the aim of them all is pretty much the same, viz. to elevate and surprise, as Mr. Bays says. At the head of these still continues the Inspector. As we frequently laughed together concerning this writer, when you were last in town, I need not here give you a description of his parts and genius. I remember you expressed great amazement at the reception his essays seemed to meet with in all our coffee-houses; but you must consider that there are artifices to gain success, as well as merit to deserve it. The former of these his Inspectorship is eminently possessed of, and sooner than fail, he will not hesitate, in order to make himself talked of at any rate, to become most glaringly ridiculous. This answers the purpose of the booksellers, as well perhaps as Attic wit, and hence it results that they are willing to continue him in their pay.

In the packet, which I have sent to you by the stage coach, you will find a paper called the Impertinent, written by himself. In this curious piece he has not stopped at abusing his own dear person, which is the only subject he has not handled with his usual malice, and the rest of it is made a vehicle for invective against Mr. Fielding and me. It was ushered into the world in a pompous manner, as if intended to be continued, but no second number was ever published, and to show you a further instance of his fallacy; he thence took occasion to triumph over a pretender to essay-writing, which he would fain insinuate, cannot be executed by any one but himself.

This unfair dealing, so unworthy a man, who aspires to be a member of the serene republic of letters, induced me to wave for a time the design you know I was engaged in, in order to bestow a

least question, but the rising generation will be totally infected with this strange motley style, and thus antithesis and point will be the prevailing turn of the nation.

It is to prevent a contagion of this sort, that Horace took the pen in hand; for this Quintilian favoured the world with his excellent work. The ingenious authors of France have always attended to this point. Truth, they insisted, is the very foundation of fine writing, and that no thought can be beautiful, which is not just, was their constant lesson. To enforce this and preserve a manly way of thinking Boileau lashed the scribblers of his time, and in our own country the Spectators, Tatlers, and Guardians have laboured for this end. To this we owe the Bathos, in which we find exposed, with the most delicate traits of satire, all false figures in writing, and finally to this we owe the Dunciad of Mr. Pope.

These instances, dear Smart, are sufficient to justify your proceeding, and let me tell you, that a cultivation of taste is a point of more moment than perhaps may appear at first sight. In the course of my reading I have observed that a corruption in morals has always attended a decline of letters. Of this Mr. Pope seems to be sensible, and, hence we find in the conclusion of his Dunciad, the general progress of dulness over the land is the final coup de grace to every thing decent, every thing laudable, elegant and polite.

Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares morality expires.
Nor public fame, nor private dares to shine,
Nor human spark is left, nor glympse divine.
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor❜d,
Light dies before thy uncreating word.
Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.

I am aware that you may answer to what has been premised, that the man is not of consequence enough for all this, and you may observe to me, that at first setting out, I myself called him by the figurative and typical appellation of an insect. But if an insect gets into the sunshine, and there blazes, shines and buzzes to the annoyance of those, who may be basking in the beams, it is time for the Muse's wing to brush the thing away. In plain English, the rapidity, with which this writer went on in his progress, was so astonishing, that I really looked upon him to be reserved for the great instrument of dulness in the completion of her work, which certainly must be accomplished, unless a speedy stop be put to that inundation of nonsense and immorality with which he has overwhelmed the nation.

I have mentioned immorality, nor will I retract the word. Has he not attacked, maliciously attacked the reputations of many gentlemen, to whom the world has been greatly obliged?-He did not brandish his goose-quill for any length of time, before he discharged a torrent of abuse upon the reverend Mr. Francis, whose amiable character, and valuable transation of Horace, have endeared him both to

those who are, and those who are not acquaints ed with him. Even beauty and innocence were no safe-guards against his calumny, and the soft-eyed virgin was by him cruelly obliged to shed the tender tear.

Upon the commencement of the CoventGarden Journal, Mr. Fielding declared an humorous war against this writer, which was intended to be carried with an amicable pleasantry, in order to contribute to the entertainment of the town. It is recent in every body's memory, how the Inspector behaved upon that occasion. Conscious that there was not an atom of humour in his composition, he had recourse to his usual shifts, and instantly disclosed a private conversation; by which he reduced himself to the alternative mentioned by Mr. Pope; "and if he lies not, must at least betray.' Through all Mr. Fielding's inimitable comic romances, we perceive no such thing as personal malice, no private character dragged into light; but every stroke is copied from the volume which nature has unfolded to him; every scene of life is by him represented in its natural colours, and every species of folly or humour is ridiculed with the most exquisite touches. A genius like this is perhaps more useful to mankind, than any class of writers; he serves to dispel all gloom from our minds, to work off our ill-humours by the gay sensations excited by a well directed pleasantry, and in a vein of mirth he leads his readers into the knowledge of human nature; the most useful and pleasing science we can apply to. And yet so deserving an author has been most grossly treated by this wild essayist; and, not to multiply instances, has he not attempted to raise tumults and divisions in our theatres, contrary to all decency and common sense, and contrary to the practice of all polite writers, whose chief aim has ever been to cherish harmony and good manners, and to diffuse through all ranks of people a just refinement of taste in all our public entertainments?

These considerations, dear sir, prompt you to the blow, and will justify it when given. I be lieve, I may venture to add, never had poet so inviting a subject for satire; Pope himself had not so good an hero for his Dunciad. The first worthy who sat in that throne, viz. Lewis Theobald of dull memory, employed himself in matters of some utility, and, upon being dethroned, the person, who succeeded, was one, who formerly had some scattered rays of light; and in most of his comedies, though whimsical and extravagant, there are many strokes of drollery; not to mention that the Careless Husband is a finished piece.

But in the hero of the Hilliad all the requisites seem to be united, without one single exception. You remember, no doubt, that in the dissertation prefixed to the Dunciad the efficient qualities of an hero for the little epic are mentioned to be vanity, impudence and debauchery. These accomplishments, I apprehend, are glaring in the person you have fixed upon. single and notable instance of the two first, has, he not upon all occasions joined himself to some celebrated name, such as the right honourable

As a

the earl of Orrery, or some other such exalted, character? I have frequently diverted myself by comparing this proceeding to the cruelty of a tyrant, who used to tie a living person to a dead carcass; and as to your hero's debauchery, there are, I am told, many pleasant instances of it.

Add to these several subordinate qualifications; such as foppery, a surprising alacrity to get into scrapes, with a notable facility of extricating himself, an amazing turn for politics, a wonderful knowledge of herbs, minerals and plants, and to crown all, a comfortable share of gentle dulness. This gentle dulness is not that impenetrable stupidity, which is remarkable in some men, but it is known by that countenance, which Dr. Garth calls, "demurely meek, insipidly serene." It is known by a brisk volubility of speech, a lively manner of saying nothing through an entire paper, and upon all occasions, by a conscious simper, short insertions of witty remarks, the frequent exclamation of wonder, the self-applauding chit-chat, and the pleasant

repartee.

Upon the whole, dear Smart, I cannot conceive what doubt can remain in your mind about the publication; it is conferring on him that ridicule, which his life, character, and actions deserve. I shall be in town in less than a fortnight, when I shall bring your poem with me, and if you will give me leave, I will help you to some notes, which I think will illustrate many passages.

Thou god of jest. As the design of heroic poetry is to celebrate the virtues and noble achievements of truly great personages, and conduct them through a series of hardships to the completion of their wishes, so the little epic delights in representing, with an ironical drollery, the mock qualities of those, who, for the benefit of the laughing part of mankind, are pleased to become egregiously ridiculous, in an affected imitation of the truly renown'd worthies above-mentioned. Hence our poet calls upon Momus, at the first opening of his poem, to convert his hero into a jest. So that in the present case, it cannot be said, facit indignatio versum, but, if I may be allowed the expression, facit titillatio versum; which may serve to show our author's temper of mind is free from rancour, or ill-nature, Not

And thou, fair Justice, of immortal line,
Hear, and assist the poet's grand design,
Who aims at triumph by no common ways,
But on the stem of dulness grafts the bays.
O thou, whatever name delight thine ear,
Pimp! Poet! Puffer! 'Pothecary! Play'r!

NOTES VARIORUM.

withstanding the great incentives he has had to prompt him to this undertaking, he is not adtuated by the spirit of revenge; and to check the follies of fancy and humorous invention, he further invokes the goddess Themis, to administer strict, poetic justice.

Shakes the pole.] Several cavils have been raised against this passage. Quinbus Flestrin, the unborn poet, is of opinion that it is brought in merely to eke out a verse; but though in many points I am inclined to look upon this critic as irrefragable, I must beg leave at present to ap→ peal from his verdict; and tho' Horace lays it down as rule not to admire any thing, I cannot help enjoying so pleasing an operation of the mind upon this occasion. We are herepresented with a grand idea, no less than Jupiter shaking his sides and the Heavens at the same time. The Pagan thunderer has often been said to agitate the pole with a nod, which in my mind gives too awful an image, whereas the one in question conveys an idea of him in good humour, and confirms what Mr. Orator Henley says, in his excellent tracts, that "the deity is a joyous being."

MARTINUS MACULARIUS,

M. D. Reg. Soc. Bur. &c. &c.

Grafts the bays.] Much puzzle hath been occasioned among the naturalists concerning the engraftment here mentioned. Hill's Natural History of Trees and Plants, vol. 52.page 336, saith, it has been frequently attempted, but that the tree of dulness will not admit any such inoculation. He adds in page 339, that he himself tried the experiment for two years successively, but that the twig of laurel, like a feather in the state of electricity, drooped and died the mo ment he touched it. Notwithstanding this authority, it is well known that this operation has been performed by some choice spirits. Eras mus in his encomium on folly shows how it may be accomplished; in our own times Pope and Garth found means to do the same: and in the sequel of this work, we make no doubt but the stem here-mentioned will bear some luxuriant branches, like the tree in Virgil,

Nec longum tempus, et ingens Exiit ad Cælum ramis felicibus arbos, Miraturque novas frondes et non sua Poma, Pimp,] An old English word for a mean fellow; see Chaucer and Spencer.

Poet,] Quinbus Flestrin saith, with his usual importance, that this is the only piece of justice done to our hero in this work. To this assents the widow at Cuper's, who it seems is not a little proud of " the words by Dr. Hill, and the music by Lewis Granon, esq." This opinion is further confirmed by major England, who admires the pretty turns on Kitty and Kate, and Catherine