TENTAMEN DE ARTE POETICA.
INter opes varias queis mens, humana superbit,
Fert primam
rectè scribendi gloria palmam:
Nec genus est ullum, ceu
fructum, sive
laborem
Spectes, (laus magna, at magno molimine constat,)
Conferri ex minima quod possit parte
Poesi:
Tantùm ex
[...]a
[...],
gressuque artes supereminet omnes.
Sed procul à me sit furor impius ille, profano
Scriptorum ut
vulgo, pede si quis claudere certo
Versiculos possit,
tinnituque impleat aures
Barbarico, sacri dem nominis hujus honorem.
Non vis plus justâ calefacti parte cerebri
Ignea sufficiat, vani quae ad fulguris instar
Perstringitque oculos, medioque
extinguitur ictu,
Ingenii
verus vigor, ac vena aemula Solis
AEternùm nitet, ac
proprio fulgore coruscat;
Nunc rutilum condit caput inter nubila, victor
Continuò erumpit, mare, tellus, aethera rident.
Quò mihi
verborum, aut
rerum quoque lauta supellex?
Quò metrum, dulcique fluentes agmi
[...]a versus
Asperior teneras
[...]uti nè vox raderet
[...]ures?
(Sunt
vulgi, nec abesse feram, aut praesentia laudo)
Si
Genius desit, si non infusa per artus
Mens
[...]gitet molem, & se corpore misceat, ingens
Naturae sequitur ceu
nutum machina Mundi?
Entheus ille calor percurrit singul
[...], verbis
Major, & ingenio sublimior, &
Genitorem
Coelestem referens, o
[...]ulis
impervius ipse
Cuncta
aperit, pingitque omnes, neque
pingitur ulli.
Nympha potens, hominum requies, divûmque voluptas,
Quas habitas sedes? cerebri num credere fas est
Angusto
hospitio tantum
se includere Numen?
Qu
[...]ve
proterva fugis, multùm
aspernata vocantem
Cùm te difficilem,
duramque per otia ploro?
Unde redis? nec opinantem quâ lege revisis,
Intentumque aliò, non dextro tempore cogis
Ad juga? tum pendent opera interrupta,
diei
Languent
officia, & spernuntur gaudia
noctis.
Sentio jam—sed
lenis ades, cohibeque furorem:
Iudicium sine
natura torpetque, jacetque;
Haec sin
[...] judicio tantùm est speciosa
phrenesis.
Iudicio
acri opus est, partes quod se addit in omnes,
Quod
mores bominum, quod
res, quod temperat
orbem,
Nedum ut scribendi tenui in ratione gubernet.
Pluma velut calami, vel arundinis, illa volatum
Promovet, hoc acuit ferrum, vi, pondere donat,
Haec
cordi arrepit,
mentis ratio occupat arcem.
In varias hîc ut describam carmina classes,
Divisio Poematis.
Cum numeris, pedibusque
suis, coepti exigit ordo.
Sed quis enim sanus velit hoc decurrere campo
Per quem magnus equos
Horatius.
Venusini flexit alumnus?
Illius auspiciis scandas Helicona virentem,
Instruit exemplo qui vatem, moribus ornat,
Legibus emendat:
mendax imitator, ut
Echô,
Quid nisi verborum formas
manco ordi
[...]e reddit?
Solenne est, fateor, seniorum scripta profanâ
Compilare manu, [sic vasa argen
[...]ea servi
Cùm furto abstulerint permutant
signa, notasque,
Proque
suis jactant] sed quis sibi cui pudor ac frons
Tam
miseris opibus tam insigni fraude
placeret?
Hoc jure &
Sophoclem totum sibi vindicet Actor,
Pro quavis Tragoedia.
Oedipodem si tu transcripseris Autor haberis,
Quantò is qui memori recitavit mente Theatro?
Verùm aliquos liquit vindemia plena racemos,
Fas eti
[...]in nobis acquirere pau
[...],
refixit
Desuetudo aliquas, tempus, nova crimina, leges
Procudêre novas: sic rerum
postulat usus.
Quid furto
hîc Satyram, cui tot
patrimonia pascas?
Cùm vix ulla malis sit terra fer
[...]cior herbis?
Quot nec
Nilus alit cùm occursent undique
monstra?
Sed neque,
plebs vatum, vobis
permitto timere,
Nec
vacat, aut
Satyrae est morientes figere
muscas:
Destinat his operam, qui aliqua virtute
merentur,
In melius flecti dociles, monitoribus aequi.
Carminibus prim
[...]t
[...]ervent
hîc omnia, gaudet
Carmine quisque suo
Crispinus, Apolline nullo,
Nec mora, nec requies, cuicunque est obvius usquam,
Ignotum tristemve petens, discrimine nullo,
E
[...]se velut stricto
incurrit, vimque
auribus infert.
Carmina propriè dicta vel Cantilenae.
Hîc multos
brevitas, speciesque inducit biante
[...],
Verùm alius labor expertis, ac fronte videtur,
Nec
tenerum magis est genus, aut
operosius ullum.
Namque utì cum filo gemmas longo ordine nectis,
(Dilectae armillas, teretive monilia collo)
Mendosas numerus tegit, ac vicinia; fiat
Annulus, hoc
unam ostentes, nubecula quaevis
Apparet, vitiumque oculis subjecta
fatetur;
Sic nisi cuncta nitent in carmine, sordet;
Summae artis cantilenam componere.
habenda
Verborum est ratio, ut ne
arcessita, locisque
Mota, minùs
propria, aut immodulata,
trahantur.
Dictio sit facilis, sublimis carmine
sensus,
Ut neque
serpat humi stylus, aut mens nubila captet.
Cum sensum cum verba poliveris, altera cura est
Ut
lateat labor,
& casus ferat
artis ho
[...]orem:
Tale unum ostendas, & Phyllida solus babeto.
Praecipuè, & partes haec regula spectat in omnes,
Foeda procul
fugias, obscoenáque nomina; scurra
Ingenio defectus ad hoc decurrit asylum.
Polluit ingenium sic Vates nobile,
serus
Qui sapuit,
moriens sic
spurca volumina flevit,
Ipsius ut credam
censurae ignoscere Manes.
Non quòd circuitu blando
insinuata voluptas
Displiceat
senibus, moveat fastidia
castis:
Verùm
immundities, tante est inscitia, coeptis
Officit ipsa
suis, congestum ut
inutile lignum
Obruit inceptas cumulato
fomite flammas.
Insurgit graviore tono gravioribus aptus
Elegi.
Materiis
Elegus, virtutis pangit honores,
Ingenii, formae decus; & solatia luct
[...]s
Exigua, heu!
spretos quoties deflevit
Amores!
Nequicquam, nam quae
[...]enita est foemina versu?
Mentis inops stolidos,
varios mutabilis ipsa,
Absurdos sine
corde sonos, sine
mente figuras,
(Tetrior haud
Stygiis pestis caput extulit undis)
Ultrò
ambit mulier, mulier se agnoscit in illis.
Sed melius meritis laudi est censura nocentum,
Arrogat & pretium
vilis plebecula
paucis:
Quae favet ingenio, quae
vatem cernit
inepto
AEterno illam Elegus donabit gratus honore,
Cedet
Laura loco, dediscet fama
Corinnam.
Sed quò transversum, quae nunc per
devia raptas
Improbe Amor? sine me spatiis decurrere coeptis.
Non equidem in genere hoc vel
vim vel
verba requiro,
Nostratum haec laus est, sed adhuc majore caremus;
Flumineos quanquam vincas
dulcedine cygnos,
Et proprios habeant vel
disticha cuncta
lepores,
(Qualia plura, brevi peritura, per ora feruntur)
Si
junctura deest, junctis si partibus
ordo,
Altior it sensim, ni copula quaeque priori,
Ut qui
fallenti scandit viridaria
clivo,
Nitenti in plano similis, simul ardua ventum est
Prospectum attonito circumspicit ore, stupetque
Inscius ad tantum se pervenisse
cacumen.
Hoc
Epigramma voces, des nomen quodlibet illi.
Non est artis opus, non est
Elegia, quali
Flexisti rigidum,
Panegyris Walleri Cro
[...] wellio dicata.
vates divine, tyrannum:
Infensos
Poema Denhamii equitis elegantissimum,
Coopershill dictum, prope Win
[...]
[...]oram, ubi ce lebris quae vulgò Magna Charta vocatur, signata fuit.
alius proceres, Regemque superbum
Colliculo in celebri mansura in foedera traxit.
Ut Bellator equus sonitum simul arma dedêre
Hûc prosultat, & hûc, micat auribus, & tremit artus,
Ipsum
equitem terret tanquam excussurus in auras,
Pindarica attonitum sic versant
oestra Poetam:
Is
furor est Musae cum implevit mentem animumque:
Pindarica.
AEmulus hîc veterum
Couleius.
novus omnia puncta tulisset,
Lemma praefixum Pi
[...]daricis Odis Couleii.
Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit haustus;
Si non
vulgari percussa, heu! verba
monetâ
Detraherent pretium mansu
[...]e in secula venae.
Insanire quidem
licet hoc in carmine, verùm
Insanire
decet certâ ratione, modóque.
Vehementes sensus, liquido sed slumine verba
Lucida procurrant; sed hâc in parte severus
Exactor videar,
naturâ constat, &
ausu
Hoc opus, ingenium campo dominatur aperto;
Et data
Pindaricae, summa indulgentia Musae
Satyra
[...]
.
Cùm neque
mos, neque
lex, torva aut
sapientia prosit,
Lebenti in pejus
Satyra succurritur orbi:
Haec docet exemplis animos, dum pectora mulcet,
Venam aperit
ridens, &
grato vulnere sanat.
Dicta prius non hîc repetendum tollere paucos
Contentis solùm dilecto è corpore naevos.
In Satyra verborum & numerorum ratio habenda.
Huic non eloquium, non lecta vocabula curae,
Materiam
rigidam parili sermone notanti;
Ille merum è plaustro jactat pus, atque venenum;
Stultus utrisque labor; nunquam haec te regula fallet,
Ut Stylus, & cultus, sit splendidus, atque virilis,
Laeviaque immanes commendent carmina sensus.
Si latrare satis, si rodere dente canino,
Quî
Satyrum infami poteris dignoscere
scurrâ?
Aut iram ponas, aut dissimulare memento,
Invitus videaris ad hanc descendere partem,
Occultaturi speciem des crimina promens,
Sic rem conficias tanquam inter vina jocosus
Petronius.
Arbiter, alta sedent ludentis vulnera dextrae.
Sic ubi Rivalem spernis, vel laude malignâ
Effers, imponit probitas simulata puellae.
Indivulsa comis hîc haeret laurea
Dr—nus celeberrimus Poeta Anglus, in Satyra facile princeps.
vati
Stigmate qui
Bavium mansuro in sêcla notavit:
Ille olim
Falsò suspectus, vulneratus, & laudatus ob Poema Satyricum cujus revera auctor non fuit.
felix alieno vulnere, eundem
Et Satyris
propriis quandóque meretur honorem.
Pegasus ast humiles si se summittit ad usus
Serpit humi, indignans, nec jam reminiscitur
[...]alas.
Iamque opus emensos mediâ plus parte Quadrigas
Siste parùm; major rerum tibi nascitur
ordo:
Ut de Caucasei Iovis ales vertice saxi,
Sive fames jubet, aut coeli inclementia sedes
Explorare novas, tepidúmque invisere Solem;
Longum iter, & pennis luctantes cogitat Austros,
Metiturque oculis spatia, & circumspicit alas;
Mox ubi propulerit vigor, & nova gloria coepti,
Indignans terram repulit, jam jamque videri
Desut, & nimbos superans latet aethere toto:
Sic, impar licet, aggreditur Musa aspera dictu,
Invidiam
Remittit Horatius Demetrium Tigellium ad Discipularum Cathedras.
cathedris, odium motura Poetis;
Dictum de apibus apud Virgilium.
Illis ira modum supra est, laesique venenum
Morsibus inspirant, sed quis succenseat aequus
Fraenanti audaces, dociles melior a monenti?
Quin age & insanis paulum adsis, diva,
Theatris.
Principio, veteres quae praecepêre Magistri
Ut persona, locus, res, hor a cohaereat aptè,
Sunt haec nota satis, sed, quae infortunia Legum,
Observata parùm, ad communia scripta relego,
Sat nostros vix tacta aliis monuisse Britannos.
De Soliloquiis: ut brevia, & rara sint
[...]
Si visum ut
solus quid secum disserat
Actor,
Sit breve, sit graviter commoti; ita flagitat usus
Communis vitae; noster, cùm desit Achates,
Arcanos gestit podio omni credere sensus:
Nec refert, sisub specie narrantis
amico,
Enarret
nobis; fluere ex
re occasio debet,
Ut
tandem miseros cùm
Phaedra fatetur Amores.
Exultat bona pars
juvenilibus usque figuris,
De Figuris & Metaphoris.
Naturam spernunt, spernit Natura vicissim,
Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga
fuci:
[...]is locus est
[...]erè solùm in Descriptionibus.
His locus est cum tristem hyemem, fluvlosque rapaces,
Aut lucum, & rivos, vel amoena rosaria
pingis.
Sed cùm declamat summus dolor, ira perorat,
In numerum cantat spretus, moribundus
Amator,
Quem non haec lapidem moveant? quàm
flebilis Heros,
Vitam exhalanti cui jam
vacat esse
diserto?
Dicta seni in
cymba jacit importuna
Charonti.
Ob
[...]e
[...]io.
Verùm in Colloquiis cornicum lumina figunt.
Resp.
Tùm verò ludit rabies, luctusque cachinnat:
Utque vices variant pueri
super aere canoro,
Sive lubet magis ex compactâ subere plumâ,
Illa volat, volitatque, volat volitatque per auras,
Itque reditque viam
toties, stupet
inscia turba,
Impubesque manus, mirata volatile
suber;
Mutua sic
Tragici ludunt: quis talia spectans
Temperet è
plausu! sed quo vos nomine dicam
Naturae, ac sanis jurdti sensibus hostes?
Ironicé.
Fac, actor,
rythmo immoriare Tragoedia
bella est:
Communis sensûs c
[...]m sit scintillula, mille
Artibus ac miserum liceat cùm extundere victum,
Quae versant
furiae, ut
mendica infamla vobis,
Ut
contempta fames placeat? quae plurima turba
Ignorant olei quanti
drama, atque laboris:
Ingenii felix, verborum flumine puro,
Qui legit
veteres, aulam perspexit, &
urbem,
Quin &
Naturae rimans penetralia sens
[...]s
Eruit arcanos,
nováque hinc miracula promit
[...]
Ille onus hoc laetus subeat, speretque
reposci,
Invidiam spernat,
Criticis medium exerat unguem.
Precepta & exempla Dialogorum è
Socraticis, Luc
[...]anóque petenda.
Ut rectè, ut propriè roget, ac respondeat Actor,
Socraticae solae poterunt ostendere chartae:
[...]antùm non latuit
Romam ars, vix cognita nostris,
Nequicquam obnixis vitioso
emergere sêclo.
Hîc tamen, ut patriae meritos solvamus Honores,
Dirigit obscuros vatûm
Shakespear &
Fletcher praestantissim
[...] Poctae D
[...]matici apud Anglos.
par nobile gressus,
Sublimes, quantùm non noxia tempor a
tardant,
Incultique
hebetant mores,
perituraque lingua:
Fessa tamen recreant
alienis pectora curis,
Vel
Qui nunquam risisse perhibetur, & inde cognomentum habuit.
Crasso excutiant risum lachrymásque
Vetitum Stoicis flere.
Catoni.
Nocturnâ hos versate manu, versate diurnâ,
Spectate interdum, seris legite inde lucernis,
AEra periti auro,
tumidumque abscindere
sôldo.
FABULA
De Fabula.
contulerit multûm meditata potenter,
Illecti hâc solâ nonnunquam
aulaea manemus.
Non quaetendi sunt perfecti Characteres, Stoicorum in morem, qui nullum omnino naevum sapienti suo inessepatiuntur.
Stoica sollicitam neu ludant somnia mentem,
Ut tibi
perfectè sapiens, fortisve, bonúsve,
Ponatur: laudi est
Picturae, sive
Poesi,
Naturae nescire
modum? facit ille
Gigantem,
Non hominem,
ignotum terris, & amabile monstrum.
Denique tale nihil peperit Natura; subesse
Culpam opus est: ut nè
immeritò cecidisse feratur,
Sed
lapsus, veniâ, & lachrymis, dignissimus, Heros.
Nec satis est tota ut recto stet Fabula talo,
Scit scenae tenerae
sua Fabula:
De Scenis praecipuis
divitis Horti
Magnificam exornat velut
area quaeque figuram.
Multus & in parvis labor est; circumspice partes,
Cuique repone
suas veneres, in imagine prima
Ut vultûs signat vestigia creta futuri.
Nec te poeniteat modulum diffingere, s
[...]res
Suadet, pars operae est non parva
litura Poetis.
De Luminibus quae vocantur, Orationis.
Solliciti plures dicendi ubi
lumina ponant,
(Purpureos longo collectos tempore pannos,)
Personis faciunt vim,
convenientia mittunt,
Facundè absurdi; te consule sedulus ipsum,
Quis sensus foret in
parili tibi sorte jacenti:
Quod petis,
intus habes, foecundum concute pectus.
De Actoribus formandis.
Sit limata licèt tenuem comoedia ad unguem,
Non tamen hîc operum finis; saepe actor agetur
Ipse, docendus utì gestum addat sensibus aptum;
Si piget ad tenues animum submittere curas,
Immerita ingenuos occident Sibila Vates.
De Characteribus novis ut ne Comoediae veteris in morem unum quemvis defignent.
Si nova difficili persona addenda Theatro,
Non unum effingas
Pro quovis inepto.
Crispinum, ac simulator in
arctum
Desilias, ales prostrata cadavera spernit
Nobilis, insultat ferali carmine
bubo.
Vulgare est Monstrum derisor ineptus inepti.
Verùm ut apes pictis in saltibus omnia libant,
Mel inde, hinc ceras, & miscent utile dulci:
Personam ex multis sic texas sedulus unam,
(Est seges ampla satis,
vati &
respondet avaro:)
Falstaff celebris character Comicus apud
Shakesperum.
Fert palmam hîc, sensa ut promam liberrima,
Miles,
Helluo, vanus, adulator, comes usque facetus.
Illo gaudet eques,
vicies repetitus amatur,
Vix anteacta parem, vix postera proferet aetas.
Saepe & sic venâ
rapitur torrente Poeta,
Ingenii ut
fatuas personas flumen
inundet:
Rusticus Urbani
speciem fert, servus, honesti,
Non
sua dicta crepat,
subitóque ut numine plenus
Morio quisque
sapit: nisi quadrant dicta loquentis
Personae, risum moveas mihi forte, sed ipse
Rideris,
Scriptor: curâ ipsa enascitur error,
Modus dicteriis adhibendus.
Cùm salibus nimius lassas onerantibus aures,
Sedulitate
urget, movet ac
fastidia vates:
Exprimat ut
mores caput est, tum deinde
Lepores
Hinc inde
inspergat, cum
lumine misceat
umbram.
Sed quia quos fugiunt praecepta, exempla movebunt,
Ecce brevi in tabula, ne postera nesciat aetas,
Ora habitúsque virûm, nostris quae forma
poetis:
Imago ridicula Tragoediae recentioris.
Inversos sensus, Scenae ac portenta videre est.
Lampades ut primùm accensae, ac aulaea recedunt,
Soliloquus longùm
placido sermone
perorat,
Et tenui eventus cunctos examine
librat:
Conticuit simul is
tandem (quae cura decoris)
Ad
litui sonitum
fugitans inducitur heros:
Obvius hîc
Nymphae (miranda potentia fati!)
Deperit intuitu primo, rasisque dolorem
Antithetis probat, & turbati pectoris aestus.
Cùm subito infelix casus divulsit Amantes,
Ignotus nobis,
(scit vates omnia) solus,
AEger,
Zelotypos concepit protinus ignes:
Mox (
ut Rivali placeat) juvat ire sub umbras.
Sed priùs & Coelos & conscia Sydera testans,
Absenti Nymphae flammas longo ordine narrat:
Rivalique suos moriens commendat Amores.
Cùm (
monitu Jovis) ille supervenit, & grave telum
Serò inhibet, casúque animum perculsus acerbo,
Invidet
ignoto tam pulchrae mortis Honorem;
Continuò incensus fumantem corripit ensem,
Non illum flectet Genitor, dulcésque
Hymenaei,
Nec moritura super crudeli funere
Virgo,
Quin,
Heroo ictu, media inter viscera condat,
Vicit
Amor Lethi, plausûsque immensa cupido.
Fortunati ambo!
Quaenam haec monstra putem, non his opus humida laurus,
Sulphura cum taedis, dira ut portenta pientur?
Candidus haec ubi commonui, quidam insit ineptus,
Deperit hic
Veteres, nos nostraque lividus odit:
Object.
(Sic
Spectatores luimus delicta
Poetae.)
Tun
[...] vitio affectum potes hunc mihi vertere?
Re
[...]o
[...]s.
rectè
Iudicium totâ cum de ratione Theatri
Vix nisi sana ferat, studio,
invidiâque remota,
Posteritas? oculos nam quae mentesque morantur,
Saltator, cultus peregrinus, machina praeceps,
Italici cantus, puerilis
noenia rythmi,
(Imbecilla nimis ruituri fulcra Theatri)
Languescunt; quid apud seros valitura nepotes?
Quondam etiam
illusis redit in praecordia sensus.
Iam tandem
Aonii praerupta per ardua montis
Aerium lasso juvdt insedisse cacumen.
Poema Epi
[...]m.
Secreti hîc
Epici Divûm potiuntur honore,
Luctantesque infrà
tranquillo lumine rident.
Quis dubitet cunctas
Epico quin carmine vires
Exerat, ingenio metas figatque supremas,
Rerum
sancta Parens, cum post tentamina mille,
Innumeros
nisus post temporis infiniti,
Vix tandem ediderit
binos?
Homerum & Virgilium.
sacer horror in ipsis
Nominibus, neque enim est ea fas proferre profanis.
Quantùm
Atlas nanum transcendit corpore, quanio
Delirus sapiente relinquitur intervallo,
Tantum inter cunctos extat
par nobile fratres:
Fama
ambit, Favor, ac
plausus comitantur cuntes.
Forte & in aeterna jacuissent secula nocte
Inscia quâ fierent arte haec miracula, vastas
Indus utì pelago spectans innare carinas,
Si non
Criticus Gallicus celeberrimus.
Bossutius sacros penetrare recessus
Ausus, qui numeri, pandens, quis carminis ordo,
Unde parentur opes, & quâ virtute snbacto
Semina missa solo caput inter nubila condant.
Certe aliquis Divûm, nostro qui consulit aevo.
Per
Labyrintheos texit vestigia flexus.
Strata via est, nemon' carpi
[...]duce, &
auspice f
[...]nto?
Quid juvat
Hesperidum heu!
dives prospectus in hortos,
Si vetitum, ut
sacros, neque mens decerpere fructus!
Quis cunctas, animi felix, complectitur artes?
Quis rationem,
audax cautè, superevolat ipsam,
AEthereumque regit
certo moder amine oursum?
Iudicium ingenio quis miscuit arte
Maronis,
Nusquam deficiens, nullâque in parte redundans?
Qui conferre potest quod non
Coulcius.
Davideidos auctor,
Miltonus.
Primaevi
aut meliùs
ceci
[...]it qui fata Parentis,
Tasso.
Vel
Solymas captas,
Spencerus.
vel qui celebravit
Elisam,
Incipiat, sed plura manen
[...], quae viribus
istis,
Et tenui venâ nos ut majora
tacemus.
FINIS.
AN ESSAY ON POETRY.
OF things in which Mankind does most excel,
Nature's chief Master-piece is
Writing well;
And of all sorts of Writing none there are
That can the least with
Poetry compare:
No kind of Work requires so
nice a touch,
And if
well finish'd, nothing shines so much;
But Heav'n forbid we should be so profane,
To grace the
Vulgar with that sacred Name;
'Tis not a flash of
Fancy which sometimes
Dazling our Minds, sets off the slightest Rhimes;
Bright as a Blaze, but in a moment done;
True Wit is everlasting, like the Sun;
Which tho sometimes behind a Cloud retir'd,
Breaks out again, and is by all admir'd.
Number, and Rhime, and that harmonious Sound,
Which never does the Ear with
Harshness wound,
Are
necessary, yet but
vulgar Arts,
For all in vain these superficial parts
Contribute to the Structure of the whole
Without a
Genius too, for that's the
Soul;
A
Spirit which inspires the Work throughout,
As that of
Nature moves the World about;
A
Heat which glows in every word that's writ,
Tis something of
Divine, and more than
Wit;
It self unseen, yet all things by it shown,
Describing all Men, but describ'd by none.
Where dost thou dwell? What Caverns of the Brain
Can such a vast, and mighty thing, contain?
When I, at idle hours, in vain thy absence mourn,
O where dost thou retire? and why dost thou
[...]eturn,
Sometimes with powerful Charms to hurry me away
From
Pleasures of the Night, and
Business of the Day?
Ev'n now too far transported, I am fain
To check thy Course, and use the needful Rein.
As all is
Dullness, when the Fancy's bad,
So without
Iudgment, Fancy is but mad;
And Judgment has a boundless Influence,
Not only in the choice of
Words or
Sence,
But on the
World, on
Manners, and on
Men;
Fancy is but the
Feather of the Pen;
Reason is that substantial useful part,
Which gains the
Head, while t'other wins the
Heart.
Here I should all the various sorts of Verse,
And the whole
Art of Poetry rehearse,
But who that Task can after
Horace do?
The best of
Masters, and
Examples too!
Ecchoes at best, all we can say is vain,
Dull the Design, and fruitless were the pain;
'Tis true, the
Ancients we may rob with ease,
But who with that sad shift himself can please,
Without an
Actor's pride? A
Player's Art
Is above his, who writes a
borrowed part.
Yet
modern Laws are made for
later Faults,
And new
Absurdities inspire new
Thoughts;
What need has
Satyr then to live on,
Theft
When so much
fresh occasion still is le
[...]t?
Fertile our Soil, and full of rankest Weeds,
And Monsters, worse than ever
Nilus, breeds;
But hold, the
Fools shall have no cause to fear,
'Tis
Wit and
Sense that is the Subject here.
Defects of witty Men
deserve a Cure,
And those who are so, will ev'n
this endure.
First then of SONGS,
Songs.
which now so much abound,
Without his
Song no Fop is to be found,
A most offensive Weapon which he draws
On all he meets against
Apollo's Laws:
Tho nothing seems more easie, yet no part
Of
Poetry requires a
nicer Art;
For as in rows of
richest Pearl there lies
Many a Blemish that escapes our Eyes,
The least of which
Defects is plainly shewn
In some
small Ring, and brings the value down;
So
Songs should be to just
Perfection wrought;
Yet where can we see one without a fault;
Exact
Propriety of Words and Thought?
Expression easie, and the
Fancy high,
Yet
that not seem to
creep, nor
this to
fly;
No Words
transpos'd, but in such
order all,
As, tho hard
wrought, may seem by chance to
fall.
Here, as in all things else, is most unfit
Bare
Ribaldry, that poor
Pretence to Wit;
Such
nauseous Songs by a late Author made
Call an
unwilling Censure on his
Shade.
Not that warm Thoughts of the transporting Joy,
Can shock the
chastest, or the
nicest cloy;
But
obscene Words, too gross to move Desire,
Like Heaps of Fewel do but
choak the Fire.
On other Themes he well deserves our Praise,
But palls that Appetite he meant to raise.
Next, ELEGY,
Elegy.
of
sweet, but
solemn Voice,
And of a
Subject grave exacts the Choice,
The Praise of
Beauty, Valor, Wit contains,
And there too oft despairing
Love complains:
In vain alas, for who by
Wit is moved,
That
Phoenix-she deserves to be beloved;
But
noisy Nonsense, and such Fops as vex
Mankind, take most with that
fantastick Sex.
This to the Praise of those who better knew;
The
Many raise the Value of the
Few.
But here, as all our Sex too oft have try'd,
Women have drawn my wandring Thoughts aside.
Their greatest Fault who in this kind have writ,
Is not Defect in Words, nor want of Wit;
But should this Muse harmonious Numbers yield,
And every Couplet be with Fancy fill'd,
If yet a just
Coberence be not made
Between each Thought, and the whole
Model laid
So
right, that every
step may
higher rise,
Like goodly Mountains, till they reach the
Skies;
Trifles like such perhaps of late have past,
And may be lik'd awhile, but never last;
'Tis
Epigram, 'tis Point, 'tis what you will,
But not an
Elegy, nor Writ with Skill,
No
Waller's.
Panegyrick, nor a
Denham's.
Coopers-Hill.
A higher Flight, and of a happier Force
Are
Pindarick Odes.
ODES, the Muses most unruly Horse;
That bounds so fierce, the Rider has no rest,
But foams at mouth, and moves like one
possest.
The Poet here must be indeed inspired,
With
Fury too, as well as
Fancy fired.
Cowley might boast to have performed this part,
Had he with
Nature joyn'd the Rules of
Art;
But ill
Expression gives sometimes
Allay
To that
rich Fancy, which can ne'er
decay:
Tho all appear in Heat and Fury done,
The
Language still must
soft and
easie run.
These Laws may seem a little too severe,
But
Iudgment yields, and
Fancy governs there;
Which, tho extravagant, this Muse allows,
And makes the Work much easier than it shews.
Satyr.
Of all the Ways that wisest Men could find
To
mend the Age, and
mortifie Mankind,
SATYR well writ has most successful prov'd,
And
cures, because the
Remedy is
lov'd.
'Tis hard to write on such a Subject more,
Without repeating Things said oft before.
Some vulgar Errors only we remove,
That stain a
Beauty which so much we love.
Of well
chose Words some take not care enough,
And think they should be as the Subject
rough;
This great Work must be more exactly made,
And
sharpest Thoughts in
smoothest Words convey'd:
Some think, if sharp enough, they cannot fail,
As if their only Business was to
rail;
But human Frailty
nicely to unfold,
Distinguishes a
Satyr from a Scold.
Rage you must hide, and Prejudice lay down,
A
Satyr's Smile is sharper than his Frown;
So, while you seem to
slight some Rival Youth,
Malice it self may pass sometimes for Truth.
The
Mr. D—n.
Laureat here may justly claim our Praise,
Crown'd by
A famous Satyrical Poem of his.
Mac-Fleckno with immortal Bays;
Tho
prais'd and
punish'd for another's
A Libel, for which he wa
[...] both applauded and wounded, tho intirely innocent of the whole matter.
Rhimes,
His own deserve as great Applause sometimes;
But once his
Pegasus has born
dead Weight,
Rid by some
lumpish Minister of State.
Here rest, my
Muse, suspend thy Cares a while,
A greater Enterprise attends thy Toil;
And as some
Eagle that designs to fly
A long
unwonted Journey through the Sky,
Considers all the dangerous way before,
Over what
Lands and
Seas she is to soar,
Doubts her own Strength so far, and justly
fears
That lofty Road of
Airy Travellers;
But yet incited by some fair Design,
That does her
Hopes beyond her
Fears incline,
Prunes every Feather, views her self with Care,
At last
resolved, she cleaves the yielding Air,
Away she flies, so strong, so high, so fast,
She
lessens to us, and is
lost at last.
So (but too weak for such a weighty thing)
The Muse inspires a sharper Note to sing;
And why should Truth offend, when only told
To guide the
Ignorant, and warn the
Bold?
On then, my Muse, adventrously engage.
To give Instructions that concern the Stage.
Plays.
The
Unities of Action, Time, and Place,
Which, if observed, give PLAYS so great a Grace,
Are, tho but little
practis'd, too well
known
To be taught here, where we pretend alone
From
nicer Faults to purge the present Age,
Less obvious Errors of the
English Stage.
First then, SOLILOQUIES had need be few,
Extremely
short, and spoke in
Passion too;
Our Lovers talking to themselves for want,
Of others, make the
Pit their
Confidant;
Nor is the matter mended yet, if thus
They trust a Friend, only to tell it us;
Th' occasion should as
naturally fall,
As when
In
Philaster, a Play of
Beaumont and
Fletcher.
Bellario confesses all.
FIGURES of Speech, which Poets think so fine,
Art's
needless Varnish to make Nature shine,
Are all but
Paint upon a beauteous Face,
And in
Descriptions only claim a place.
But to make
Rage declaim, and
Grief discourse,
From Lovers in despair
fine things to
force,
Must needs succeed, for who can chuse but pity
A
dying Hero miserably
witty?
But, oh, the Dialogues, where jest, and mock
Is held up like a Rest at Shittle-cock!
Or else like Bells, eternally they chime,
They
sigh in
Simile, and
die in
Rhime.
What
Things are these who would be,
Poets thought,
By
Nature not inspir'd, nor
Learning taught?
Some Wit they have, and therefore may deserve
A better Course than this by which they
starve:
But to write Plays! why 'tis a bold pretence
To
Iudgment, Breeding, Wit and
Eloquence;
Nay more; for they must look
within to find
Those
secret Turns of Nature in the mind;
Without this part in vain would be the whole,
And but a Body all without a Soul:
All this together yet is but a part
Of Dialogue, that great and powerful Art,
Now almost lost, which the old
Grecians knew,
From whence the
Romans fainter Copies drew,
Scarce comprehended since but by a
few:
Plato and
Lucian are the best Remains
Of all the Wonders which this Art contains;
Yet to our selves we Justice must allow,
Shakespear and
Fletcher are the Wonders now:
Consider them, and read them o'er and o'er,
Go see them play'd, then read them as before,
For tho in many things they grosly fail,
Over our Passions still they so prevail,
That our
own Grief by theirs is rock'd asleep,
The
Dull are
forc'd to feel, the
wise to
weep.
Their Beauties imitate, avoid their Faults;
First on a
Plot employ thy careful Thoughts;
Turn it with time a thousand several Ways,
This oft alone has given success to Plays:
Reject that
vulgar Error which appears
So
fair, of making
perfect Characters;
There's no such thing in Nature, and you
[...]ll draw
A
faultless Monster, which the World ne
[...]er saw;
Some
Faults must be, that his Misfortunes drew;
But such as may deserve Compassion too.
Besides the main Design composed with Art,
Each
moving Scene must be a
Plot apart;
Contrive each little
turn, mark every place,
As
Painters first
chalk out the future Face;
Yet be not fondly your own Slave for this,
But change hereafter what appears amiss.
Think not so much where
shining Thoughts to place,
As what a Man would
say in
such a
Case.
Neither in
Comedy will this suffice,
The
Player too must be before your Eyes,
And tho 't
[...]s Drudgery to stoop so low,
To him you must your utmost meaning show.
Expose no
single Fop, but lay the Load
More
equally, and spread the Folly broad;
The other way is
vulgar, oft we see
A Fool
derided by as bad as
he;
Hawks fly at
nobler Game; in this low way,
A very
Owl may prove a
Bird of
Prey:
Ill Poets so will one poor Fop devour;
But to
collect, like
Bees from every Flower,
Ingredients to
compose that precious Juice,
Which serves the World for
Pleasure and for
use,
In spight of Faction this would Favour get:
But
An admirable Character in a Play of
Shakespear's.
Falstaff seems unimitable yet.
Another Fault which often does befall,
Is when the Wit of some great Poet shall
So
overflow, that is, be none at all,
That all his Fools speak
Sence, as if
possest,
And each by
Inspiration breaks his Jest;
If once the
Iustness of each part be lost,
Well we may laugh, but at the Poets Cost.
That silly thing, Men call
Sheer-Wit, avoid,
With which our Age so nauseously is cloy'd;
Humour is all,
Wit should be only brought
To turn agreeably some
proper Thought.
But since the Poets we of late have known,
Shine in no
Dress so much as in their
own,
The better by
Example to convince,
Cast but a View on this
wrong side of Sence.
First a Soliloquy is
calmly made,
Where every Reason is
exactly weigh'd;
Which once perform'd, most opportunely comes
A
Hero frighted at the Noise of Drums
For
her sweet sake, whom at
first sight he loves;
And all in
Metaphor his passion
proves;
But some sad Accident, tho yet unknown,
Parting this Pair, to leave the Swain alone,
He streight grows
jealous, yet we know not why,
And to
oblige his
Rival, needs will
dye;
But first he makes a
Speech, wherein he tells
The
absent Nymph how much his Flame excels;
And yet bequeaths her
generously now
To that dear Rival whom he does not know,
Who streight appears (but who can Fate withstand?)
Too late alas to hold his hasty Hand,
That just has giv'n himself the cruel Stroke,
At which this very
Strangers Heart is broke;
He more to his
new Friend than Mistress kind,
Most sadly mourns at being left behind,
Of such a Death prefers the pleasing
Charms
To
Love, and living in a Lady's Arms.
How shameful, and what monstrous things are these?
And then they rail at those they cannot please,
Conclude us only partial for the
Dead,
And grudge the Sign of old
Ben. Iohnson's Head;
When the
intrinsick Value of the Stage
Can scarce be judg'd but by a
following Age;
For Dances, Flutes,
Italian Songs, and Rhime
May keep up
sinking Nonsense for a time.
But that may fail, which now so much o'er-rules,
And
Sence no longer will
submit to Fools.
By painful Steps we are at last got up
Parnassus Hill, on whose bright Airy Top
The
Epick Poets
Epick Poetry.
so divinely show,
And with
just Pride behold the rest below.
Heroick Poems have a just pretence
To be the utmost reach of human Sence,
A Work of such inestimable Wor
[...],
There are but
two the World has yet brought forth,
Homer, and
Virgil: with what awful sound
Do those meer words the Ears of Poets wound!
Just as a
Changeling seems below the rest
Of Men, or rather is a two-legg'd Beast,
So these
Gigantick Souls amaz'd we find
As much above the rest of human kind.
Natures whole strength
united! endless Fame,
And universal Shouts attend their Name.
Read
Homer once, and you can read no more,
For all things else appear so dull and poor,
Verse will seem
Prose, yet
often on him look,
And you will hardly
need another Book.
Had
A late Author.
Bossu never writ, the World had still,
Like
Indians, view'd this wondrous Piece of Skill,
As something of
Divine the Work admired,
Not hoped to be
Instructed, but
Inspired;
But he disclosing sacred
Mysteries,
Has shewn where all the mighty
Magick lies,
Describ'd the
Seeds, and in what order sown,
That have to such a vast proportion grown;
Sure from some
Angel he the
Secret knew,
Who through this
Labyrinth has given the
Clue!
But what, alas, avails it poor Mankind
To
see this
promised Land, yet stay
behind?
The Way is shewn, but who has Strength to go?
Who can all
Sciences exactly know?
Whose
Fancy flies beyond weak
Reason's Sight,
And yet has
Iudgment to direct it
right?
Whose
just Discernment,
Virgil-like, is such,
Never to say too little, or too much?
Let such a Man begin without delay,
But he must do much more than I can say,
Must above
Cowley, nay and
Milton too prevail,
Succeed where
great Torquato, and our
greater Spencer fail.
The END.