« السابقةمتابعة »
Go fix them there, where rems and gold,
Yet, if ingenuous be your mind,
Wak'd by the lock-dove's melting strain,
" Such is the waving line,” they cry,. “ For ever dear to Fancy's eye! “ Yon itream that wanders down the dale, “ The spiring wood, the winding vale, “ The path which, wrought with hidden skill, “ Slow twining scales yon distant hill « With fir invested-all combine “ To recommend the waving line.
“ The wreathed rod of Bacchus fair, “ The ringlets of Apollo's hair, “ The wand by Maïa's offspring borne, “ The smoothe volutes of Ammori's horn, " The structure of the Cyprian dame, " And each fair female's beauteous frame,
Shew, to the pupils of design,
Then gaze, and mark that union sweet,
But if thy soul such bliss despise,
To William Shenftone, Esq. in his
By Mr. Woodhouse.
Ye bowers and gay alcoves,
Ye grottues, and ye groves ! . Alas! my heart feels no delight,
Though I your charmig survey;
In languid sighs the day.
A thousand scents diffule ;
In vain display their hues.
Recline your gaudy heads;
Embrace your humid bed:
Your lofty fummits rcar!
Expands your leaves fo fair!
Aš wanton waves the tree;
Yet they regard not me.
And strike the fatal wound,
Or fence your beauties round?
Have learnt my plaintive tale,
Conies floating in the gale.
To soothe an amorous mate ;
And his uncertain fate.
With fond repinings rove,
Or weep along the grove.
Ye kear ine 100 repine;
Ye envious winds, the cause display,
In whispers as ye blow,
The poison'd shafts of woe ?
Where you so blithely nieet? The scented shrub, and fragrant flower,
To make your breezes sweet? And must he leave the wood, the field,
The dear Arcadian reign ? Can reither verse nor virtue shield
The guardian of the plain? Must he his tuneful breath resign,
Whom all the Muses love? That round his brow their laurels tvine,
And all his songs approve. Preserve him, mild Omnipotence !
Our Father, King, and God, Who clear'st the paths of life and sense,
Or stop'st them at thy nod. Bleft power, who calm's the raging deep,
His valued health reitore,
Nor lcc the good deplore.
His longer date an ill,
To contradict thy will.
For such a God-like mind,
Nor leave a wish behind.
Kings might their state forego : Yet muft he feel fuch raptures there,
As none can talte below.
They call'd him the pride of the plain ;
In footh, he was gentle and kind; Ie mark'd in his elegant Orain,
The Graces that glow'd in his mind. On purpose he planted yon trees,
That birds in the covert mighé dwell; Hc cultur'd his thyme for the bees,
But never would rifle their ceil. Ye lanıbkins, that play'd at his feet,
Go bleat-and your master bemoan ; His music was artless and sweet,
His manners as mild as your own. No verdure shall cover the vale,
No binom on the bloffoms appear; The sweets of the foreft snall fail,
And inter discolour the year. No birds, in our hedges shall ling
(Our hedges fo vocal before, Since he that hould welcome the spring,
Can greet the gay season no more. His Phyllis was fond of his praise,
And poets came round in a throng; They liften'd and envy'd his lays,
But which of them equal'd his song ?
For lost is the pastoral strain ;
VERSES LEFT ON A SEAT,
THE HAND UNKNOWX.
Extract from Mr. Mason's · Englista
Garden," Book I.
CORYDON, A PASTORAL.
TO THE MEMORY OF
And see our lov'd Corydon laid:
Yet let the sad tribute be paid.
Nor, Shenstone, thou
DAVID MALLET ESQ.
OF VERBAL CRITICISM.
A ONG dhe numerous fools, by fate defignid Pride of his owen, and wonder of this
age, The Reading Coxcomb is of special note, Bold to design, all-powerful to express, By rule a Poet, and a Judge by rote :
Shakespear each passion drew in every dress: 50 Grave son of idle Industry aud Pride,
Great above rule, and imitating none; Whom learning but perverts, and books misguide. Rich without borrowing, Nature was his own. O fam'd for judging, as for writing well,
Yet is his sense debaş'd by grois allay : That rareft science, where so few excel;
As gold in mines lies mix'd with dirt and clay. Whose life, severely scann'd, transcends thy lays, Now, eagle-wing'd, his heavenward fight he For wit suprene is but thy second praise:
takes ; 'Tis thine, O Pope, who chuse the better part, The big stage thunders, and the soul awakes : 56 To tell how false, how vain, the Scholiaft's art, Now, low on earth, a kindred reptile creeps ; Which nor to taste, nor genius has pretence,
Sad Hamlet quibbles, and the hearer sleeps. And, if 'tis learning, is not common sense.
Such was the Poet : next the Scholiast view; In error obftinate, in wrangling loud, 15 Faint through the colouring, yet the features true. For trifles eager, positive, and proud;
Condemnd to dig and dung a barren foil, 61 Deep in the darkness of dull authors bred, Where hardly tares will grow with care and toil, With all their refuse lumber'd in his head, He, with low induftry, goes gleaning on What every dunce from every dunghill drew From good, from bad, from mean; neglecting Of literary offals, old or new, Forth steps at last the self-applauding wight,
His brother book-worm fo, in shelf or stall, Of points and letters, chaff and straws to write : Will feed alike on Woolfton and on Paul. Sagely resolv'd to swell each bulky piece
By living clients hopeless pow of bread, With venerable toys, from Rome and Greece ; He pettifogs a scrap from authors dead. How oft, in Homer, Paris curl'd his hair ; 25
See bim on Shakespeare pore, intent to steal If Aristotle's cap were round or square ;
Poor farce, by fragments, for a third-day meal. If in the cave, where Dido first was speti, Such that grave bird in northern feas is found, 70 To Tyre she turn'd her heels, to Troy her head. Whose name a Dutchman only knows to found. Such the choice anecdotes, profound and vain,
Where e'er the king of fith moves on before, That store a Bently's and a Burman's brain : 30 This humble friend attends from shore to fiore; Hence, Plato quoted, or the Stag yrite,
With eye still earnest, and with bill inclin'd, To prove that Hame ascends, and snow is white : He picks up what his patron drops behind; Hence much hard ftudy, without fense or breeding, with whole choice cates his palate to regale, And all the grave impertinence of reading, And is the careful Tibbald of a whale. If Shakespeare says, the noon-day fun is bright, Blelt genius! who behows his oil and pains His Scholiaft will remark, it then was light; 36 On each dull passage, each dull book contains ; 8. Turn Caxton, Winkin, cach old Goth and Hun, Thc toil more grataful, as the talk more low : To re&ify the reading of a pun.
So carrion is the quarry of a crow. Thus, nicely trifling, accurately dull
Where his fam'd author's page is flat and poor, How one may toil, and toil--to be a fool! 40
There, mote exact the reading to restore ; But is there then no honour due to age? By dint of plodding, and by sweat of face, No reverence to great Shakeipear's noble page?
A bull to change, a blunder to replace : And he, who halt a life has read him o'er,
Whate'er is refuse critically gleaning, His mangled points and commas to rettore, lid mending nonsense into doubtful meaning. Meets he fuch night regard in nameless lays, 45
For this dread Dennis (and who can forbear. Wbom Bufu treats, and Lady. Would-be pays ?
Dunce or not Dunce, relating it, to stare?) Vol. VII.
His head though jealous, and his years foorscore, Great eldeft-born of Dullness, blicdard bold ! Ev'n Dennis praises, who ne'er prais'd before ! Tyrant ! more cruel than Procrustes old;
150 For this, the Scholiaft claims his share of fame, Whe, to his iron-bed, by torture, fits, Ard, modeft, prints his own with Shakespeare's Their nobler part, the souls of suffering Wits.
Such is the Man, who heaps his head with bays, How justly, Pope, in this short story view ; 95 And calls on human kind to found his praise, Which may be dull, and therefore thould be true, For points transplac'd with curious want of Drill,
A Prelate, fam'd for clearing each dark text, For Hattew'd sounds, and fenfe amended i!l. 156 Who sense with sound, and truth with rhetoric So wise Caligula, in days of yore, mixt,
His helmet f.ll'd with pebbles on the shore, Once, as his moving theme to rapture warmid, Swore he had rifled ocean's rich spoils, Inspir'd himself, his happy hearers charm'd. 100 And claim'd a trophy for his martial toils. 160 The fermon o'er, the croud remain'd behind, Yet be his merits, with his faults conteft : And freely, man or woman, spoke their mind : Fair-dealing, as the plainest, is the best. All said they lik'd tlie lecture from their soul, Long lay the Critic's work, with trifles ford, And each, remembering something, prais'd the Admir'd in Latin, but in Greek ador'd. whole.
Men, so weil read, who confidently wrote, 165 At last an honeft fexton join'd the throng 105 | Their readers could have sworn, were men of (For as the theme was large, their talk was long);
note : Neighbours, he cry'd, my conscience bids me tell, To pass upon the croud for great or rare, Thoi swas the Doctor preach'd I toli'd the bell. Aim not to make them knowing, make them ftare. In this the Critic's folly most is town ;
For these blind votaries good Bentley grievid, Is there a Genius, all-unlike his own, IIO Writ English notes--and mankind undeceivid: With learning elegant, with wit well bred, In such clear light the serious folly plac'd, 171 And, as in bcoke, in men and manners read ; Ev'n thou, Browne Willis, thou may'st see the Himself with poring erudition blind,
jeft. Unknowing, as unknown of human kind?
But what can cure our vanity of mind, That writer he selects, with aukward aim
Deaf to reproof, and to discovery blind? His fenfe, at orce, to mimic and to maim. Let Crooke, a Brother-Scholiaft Shakespeare eall
, So Florio is a fop, with half a nose :
Tibbald, to Hesiod-Cooke returns the ball, 176 Go fat West Indian Planters dress as Beaux. So runs the circle still : in this, we fee Thus, gay Petronius was a Dutchman's choide, The lackies of the Great and Learn'd agree. And Horace, strange to say, tun'd Bentley's If Britain's nobles mix in high debate, voice.
Whence Europe, in suspence, attends her fate; 180 Horace, whom all the Graces taught to please, In mimie sesion their grave footmen meet, Mix'd mirth with morals, eloquence with ease ; Reduce an army, or equip a fleet: His genius social, as his judgement clear ; And, rivaling the critic's lofty stile, When frolic, prudent; smiling when severe ; Mere Tom and Dick are Stanhope and Argyll. Secure, each temper, and each taste to hit,
Yet those, whom pride and dulnefs join to blind, His was the curious happiness of wit.
To narrow cares and narrow space confin’d, 186 Skill'd in that noblest Science, How'to live ; Though with big titles each his fellow greets, Which Learning may direct, but Heaven must Are but to wits, as scavengers to streets : give;
The humble black-guards of a Pope or Gay, Grave with Agrippa, with Mæcenas gay;
To bruíh off dust, and wipe their spots away. 190 Among the Fair, but just as wise as they : 130 Or, if not trivial, harmful is their art; First in the friendíhips of the Great enroll'd, Fume to the head, or poison to the heart. The St. Johns, Boyles, and I yttletons, of old. Where ancient Authors hint at things obscene, While Bentley, long to wrangling schools con- The Scholiast speaks out broadly what they mean. fin'd,
Disclonng each dark vice, well loft to fame, 195 And, but by books, acquainted with mankind, And adding fuel to redundant Hame, Dares, in the fulness of the pedant's pride, 135 He, fober pimp to lechery, explains, Rhyne, tho’no genius ; tho' no judge, decide. What Capræ's Ine, or V's Alcove contains : Yet he, prime pattern of the captious art, Why Paulus, for his sordid temper known, Out-tibbalding poor Tibbald, tops his part: Was lavishi, to his father's wife alone : Holds high the scourge o'er each famd author's Why those fond female visits duly paid
140 To tuneful Incuba ; and what her trade : Nor are their graves a refuge for the dead. How modern love has made so many'martyrs, To Milton lending sense, to Horace wit;
And which keeps ofteneft, Lady C, or Chartres. He makes them write what never Poet writ: But who their various follies can explain? 205 The Roinan Muse arraigris his inangling pen; The tale is infinite, the talk were vain. And Paradise, by him, is lost again. 145 'Twere to read new-year odes in search of thought; Such was his doom impos'd by Heaven's decree, To sum the libels Pryn or Withers wrote ; With ears that hear not, eyes that mall not see, To guess, ere one epistle saw the light, The low to swell, to level the subliine,
How many dunces met, and club'd their mite ; 210 To blast all beauty, and beprofe all rhyme. To vouch for truth what Welfted prints of Pope,
Or from the brother-boobies steal a tropo.
That be the part of persevering Wase,
Ch, born to glad and animate our Ine! With pen of lead; or, Arnall, thin of brass; For thee, our heavens look pleas'd, our seasons A text for Henley, or argloss for Hearne,
smile : Who loves to teach, what no ma, cares to learn. For thee, late object of our tender fears, How little, knowledge reaps from toils like When thy life droop'd, and Britain was in tears, there!
All-cbearing Health, the goddess rofy-fair, Too doubtful to direct, to poor to please.
Attended by soft suns, and vernal air, Yet, Critic's, would your tribe deserve a name, Sought those * fam'd springs, wherc, each affiictive And, fairly useful, rise to honest fame ;
hour, First, from the head, a !cad of lumber move,
Disease, and age, and pain, invoke her power : And, from the volume, all yourfelves approve :
She came; and, while to thee the current flows, For patch'd and pilfered fragments, give us fenfe,. Pour'd all herself, and in thy cup arose. Or learning, clear from learn'd imp-rtinence, Hence, to thy cheek, that inftant Lloom deriv'd: Where moral meaning, or where taste presides, Hence, with thy health, the weeping world reAnd wit enlivens but what reason guides: 2 26 viy'd! Great without Twelling, without meanness pla n; Proceed to emulate thy race divine : Serious, not plly; sportive, but not vain, A life of action, and of praise, be thine. On trifes Night, on things of use profound,
Assert the titles genuine to thy blood,
By Nature, daring; but by reason, good.
Thy vice, if vice thou hast, in stronger light.
If to thay fair beginnings nobly true,
The honours, that already grace thy name,
Have fix'd thy choice, and force thee un'o same,
Ev'n fhe, bright Anna, whom thy worth has won,
Rich in all outward grace, th' exalted fair
Makes the soul's beauty her peculiar care.
Of fons, in war renown'd, and great in peace ;
Of daughters, fair and faithful, to supply
The patriot-race, till Nature's self fhall die!
V E R S E S
OCCASIONED BY DR. FRASER'S REBUILDING
IN times long part, cre Wealth was Warning's
And dar'd despise the worth he would not know;
Ere mitred pride, which arts alone had rais'd,
Those very arts, in others saw, unprais'd;
Friend to mankind, † a prelate, good and great,
The Mufes courted to this sale retreat :
Fix'd each fair virgin, decent, in her cell,
With learned leisure, and with peace to dwell.
Whate'cr enlightens, or exalts the thought.
With labour planted, and improv'd with care,
The various tree of knowledge flourish'd'fair :
Soft and serene the kindly seasons rolled,
And Science long enjoy'd her age of gold.
Now, dire reverse! impaird by lapse of years,
PART OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN.