The works of Alexander Pope Esq. In nine volumes complete. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements; ... Together with the commentaries and notes of Mr. Warburton: [pt.1]

AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

Written in the Year MDCCIX.

CONTENTS OF THE ESSAY on CRITICISM.

PART I.

• INtroduction. That 'tis as great a fault to judge ill, as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public, ℣ 1.
• That a true Taste is as rare to be found, as a true Ge|nius, ℣ 9 to 18.
• That most men are born with some Taste, but spoil'd by false Education, ℣ 19 to 25.
• The Multitude of Critics, and causes of them, ℣ 26 to 45.
• That we are to study our own Taste, and know the Li|mits of it, ℣ 46 to 67.
• Nature the best guide of Judgment, ℣ 68 to 87.
• Improv'd by Art and Rules, which are but methodis'd Nature, ℣ 88.
• Rules deriv'd from the Practice of the Ancient Poets, ℣ id. to 110.
• That therefore the Ancients are necessary to be study'd by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil, ℣ 120 to 138.
• Of Licenses, and the use of them by the Ancients, ℣ 140 to 180.
• Reverence due to the Ancients, and praise of them, ℣ 181, etc.

PART II. Ver. 203, etc.

• Causes hindering a true Judgment. 1. Pride, ℣ 208, 2. Imperfect Learning, ℣ 215. 3. Judging by parts, and not by the whole, ℣ 233 to 288. Critics in Wit, Language, Versification, only, ℣ 288. 305. 339, etc. 4. Being too hard to please, or too apt to admire, ℣ 384. 5. Partiality—too much Love to a Sect,—to the Anci|ents or Moderns, ℣ 394. 6. Prejudice or Prevention, ℣ 408. 7. Singularity, ℣ 424. 8. Inconstancy, ℣ 430. 9. Party Spirit, ℣ 452, etc. 10. Envy, ℣ 466. Against Envy, and in praise of Good-nature, ℣ 508, etc. When Severity is chiefly to be used by Critics, ℣ 526, etc.

PART III. Ver. 560, etc.

• Rules for the Conduct of Manners in a Critic, 1. Can|dour, ℣ 563. Modesty, ℣ 566. Good-breeding, ℣ 572. Sincerity, and Freedom of advice, ℣ 578. 2. When one's Counsel is to be restrained, ℣ 584. Cha|racter of an incorrigible Poet, ℣ 600. And of an im|pertinent Critic, ℣ 610, etc. Character of a good Critic, ℣ 629. The History of Criticism, and Cha|racters of the best Critics, Aristotle, ℣ 645. Horace, ℣ 653. Dionysius, ℣ 665. Petronius, ℣ 667. Quintilian, ℣ 670. Longinus, ℣ 675. Of the De|cay of Criticism, and its Revival. Erasmus, ℣ 693. Vida, ℣ 705. Boileau, ℣ 714. Lord Roscommon, etc. ℣ 725. Conclusion.

tagJump to sectionAN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

tagJump to section'TIS hard to say, if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill; But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Line 5

Some few in that, but numbers err in this,Line 5 Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss; A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

tagJump to section'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.Line 10

In Poets as true genius is but rare, True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share; Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light, These born to judge, as well as those to write. Line 15

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionLet such teach others who themselves excel,Line 15 And censure freely who have written well. Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not Critics to their judgment too?

tagJump to sectionYet if we look more closely, we shall find tagJump to sectionMost have the seeds of judgment in their mind:

Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light; The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right. But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac'd, Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd, tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionSo by false learning is good sense defac'd: tagJump to sectionSome are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,Line 26 And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.

tagJump to sectionIn search of wit these lose their common sense, And then turn Critics in their own defence: Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,Line 30 Or with a Rival's, or an Eunuch's spite. tagJump to sectionAll fools have still an itching to deride, And fain would be upon the laughing side. If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spight, There are, who judge still worse than he can write.

tagJump to sectionSome have at first for Wits, then Poets past,Line 36 Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last.

Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass, As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass. Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle, As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;Line 41 Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call, tagJump to sectionTheir generation's so equivocal:

To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require, Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.Line 45

tagJump to sectionBut you who seek to give and merit fame, And justly bear a Critic's noble name, Be sure yourself and your own reach to know, How far your genius, taste, and learning go; Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,Line 50 tagJump to sectionAnd mark that point where sense and dullness meet.

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit, And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit. As on the land while here the ocean gains, In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;Line 55 tagJump to sectionThus in the soul while memory prevails, The solid pow'r of understanding fails; Where beams of warm imagination play, The memory's soft figures melt away. One science only will one genius fit;Line 60 So vast is art, so narrow human wit:

Not only bounded to peculiar arts, But oft' in those confin'd to single parts. Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before, By vain ambition still to make them more;Line 65 Each might his sev'ral province well command, tagJump to sectionWould all but stoop to what they understand.

tagJump to sectionFirst follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Line 70

Unerring NATURE, still divinely bright,Line 70 One clear, unchang'd, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of Art. Art from that fund each just supply provides, Works without show, and without pomp presides: Line 76

In some fair body thus th' informing soulLine 76 With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole, Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains; Itself unseen, but in th' effects, remains. tagJump to sectionSome, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse, Want as much more, to turn it to its use;Line 81 For wit and judgment often are at strife, Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife. 'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed; Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;Line 85 The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse, Shows most true mettle when you check his course.

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionThose RULES of old discover'd, not devis'd, Are Nature still, but Nature methodiz'd; Line 90

Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain'dLine 90 By the same Laws which first herself ordain'd.

tagJump to sectionHear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites, When to repress, and when indulge our flights:

High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd, And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;Line 95 Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise. tagJump to sectionJust precepts thus from great examples giv'n, She drew from them what they deriv'd from Heav'n. The gen'rous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire,Line 100 And taught the world with reason to admire.

Then Criticism the Muses handmaid prov'd, To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd: But following wits from that intention stray'd, Who cou'd not win the mistress, woo'd the maid; Against the Poets their own arms they turn'd, Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd. So modern 'Pothecaries, taught the art By Doctor's bills to play the Doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,Line 110 Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. tagJump to sectionSome on the leaves of antient authors prey, Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they. Some drily plain, without invention's aid, Write dull receits how poems may be made.Line 115

These leave the sense, their learning to display, And those explain the meaning quite away.

tagJump to sectionYou then whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each ANCIENT'S proper character; Line 120

His Fable, Subject, scope in ev'ry page;Line 120 Religion, Country, genius of his Age: Without all these at once before your eyes, tagJump to sectionCavil you may, but never criticize.

Be Homer's works your study and delight, Read them by day, and meditate by night;Line 125 Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring, And trace the Muses upward to their spring. Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse; And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionWhen first young Maro in his boundless mind A work t'outlast immortal Rome design'd,Line 131 Perhaps he seem'd above the Critic's law, And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw:

But when t'examine ev'ry part he came, Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold design; And rules as strict his labour'd work confine, As if the Stagirite o'erlook'd each line. Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; To copy nature is to copy them.Line 140

tagJump to sectionSome beauties yet no Precepts can declare, For there's a happiness as well as care. Music resembles Poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master-hand alone can reach.Line 145 tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionIf, where the rules not far enough extend, (Since rules were made but to promote their end)

Some lucky Licence answer to the full Th'intent propos'd, that Licence is a rule. tagJump to sectionThus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,Line 150 May boldly deviate from the common track;

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which without passing thro' the judgment, gains The heart, and all its end at once attains.Line 155 In prospects thus, some objects please our eyes, Which out of nature's common order rise, The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. tagJump to sectionGreat Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend.Line 160 But tho' the Ancients thus their rules invade, (As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made) Moderns, beware! or if you must offend Against the precept, ne'er transgress its End; Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;Line 165 And have, at least, their precedent to plead.

The Critic else proceeds without remorse, Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.

tagJump to sectionI know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults.Line 170 Some figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place, Due distance reconciles to form and grace. tagJump to sectionA prudent chief not always must displayLine 175 His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array,

But with th'occasion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly. Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, tagJump to sectionNor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.Line 180

tagJump to sectionStill green with bays each ancient Altar stands, Above the reach of sacrilegious hands; tagJump to sectionSecure from Flames, from Envy's fiercer rage, Destructive War, and all-involving Age.

See, from each clime the learn'd their incense bring! Hear, in all tongues consenting Paeans ring!Line 185 In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd, And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind. tagJump to sectionHail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days; Immortal heirs of universal praise!Line 190 Whose honours with increase of ages grow, As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow; Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! Oh may some spark of your celestial fire,Line 195 tagJump to sectionThe last, the meanest of your sons inspire, (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights; Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) To teach vain Wits a science little known, tagJump to sectionT'admire superior sense, and doubt their own!Line 200

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionOF all the Causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is Pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Line 205

Whatever Nature has in worth deny'd,Line 205 She gives in large recruits of needful Pride; For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind: tagJump to sectionPride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty Void of sense.Line 210 If once right reason drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with resistless day. Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, Make use of ev'ry friend—and ev'ry foe.

tagJump to sectionA little learning is a dang'rous thing;Line 215 tagJump to sectionDrink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: tagJump to sectionThere shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again. Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts, In fearless youth we tempt the heights of Arts, Line 221

While from the bounded level of our mind,Line 221 Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind; But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprize New distant scenes of endless science rise! tagJump to sectionSo pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we try,Line 225 Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky, Th' eternal snows appear already past, And the first clouds and mountains seem the last: But, those attain'd, we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way,Line 230 Th' increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionA perfect Judge will read each work of Wit With the same spirit that its author writ:

tagJump to sectionSurvey the WHOLE, nor seek slight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind; Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight, The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.

But in such lays as neither ebb, nor flow, Correctly cold, and regularly low,Line 240 That shunning faults, one quiet tenour keep; We cannot blame indeed—but we may sleep. In Wit, as Nature, what affects our hearts Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,Line 245 But the joint force and full result of all. Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome, tagJump to section(The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, ORome!) No single parts unequally surprize, All comes united to th' admiring eyes;Line 250

No monstrous height, or breadth, or length appear; The Whole at once is bold, and regular.

tagJump to sectionWhoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. In ev'ry work regard the writer's End,Line 255 Since none can compass more than they intend;

And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spight of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, T' avoid great errors, must the less commit:Line 260 tagJump to sectionNeglect the rules each verbal Critic lays, For not to know some trifles, is a praise. tagJump to sectionMost Critics, fond of some subservient art, Still make the Whole depend upon a Part: They talk of principles, but notions prize,Line 265 And all to one lov'd Folly sacrifice.

tagJump to sectionOnce on a time, La Mancha's Knight, they say, A certain Bard encount'ring on the way, Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as sage, As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage;Line 270 Concluding all were desp'rate sots and fools, Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules. Our Author, happy in a judge so nice, Produc'd his Play, and begg'd the Knight's advice; Line 275

Made him observe the subject, and the plot,Line 275 The manners, passions, unities; what not? All which, exact to rule, were brought about, Were but a Combat in the lists left out. " What! leave the Combat out?" exclaims the Knight; Yes, or we must renounce the Stagirite.Line 280 " Not so by Heav'n" (he answers in a rage) " Knights, squires, and steeds, must enter on the stage." So vast a throng the stage can ne'er contain. " Then build a new, or act it in a plain."

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionThus Critics, of less judgment than caprice,Line 285 Curious not knowing, not exact but nice,

Form short Ideas; and offend in arts (As most in manners) by a love to parts.

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionSome to Conceit alone their taste confine, And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;Line 290 Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit; One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.

Poets like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,Line 295 And hide with ornaments their want of art. tagJump to sectionTrue Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;

Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind.Line 300 As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit. For works may have more wit than does 'em good, As bodies perish thro' excess of blood.

tagJump to sectionOthers for Language all their care express,Line 305 And value books, as women men, for Dress:

Their praise is still,—the Style is excellent: The Sense, they humbly take upon content. Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.Line 310 tagJump to sectionFalse Eloquence, like the prismatic glass, Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place; The face of Nature we no more survey, All glares alike, without distinction gay:

But true Expression, like th' unchanging Sun, Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon, It gilds all objects, but it alters none. Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent, as more suitable; A vile conceit in pompous words express'd,Line 320 Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd: For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort, As several garbs with country, town, and court. tagJump to sectionSome by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrase, meer moderns in their sense; Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,Line 326 Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.

tagJump to sectionUnlucky, as Fungoso in the Play, These sparks with aukward vanity display What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;Line 330 And but so mimic ancient wits at best, As apes our grandfires, in their doublets drest. In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,Line 335 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionBut most by Numbers judge a Poet's song; And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:

In the bright Muse tho' thousand charms conspire, Her Voice is all these tuneful fools admire;Line 340 Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as some to Church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, tagJump to sectionTho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;Line 345 tagJump to sectionWhile expletives their feeble aid do join; And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:

While they ring round the same unvary'd chimes, With sure returns of still expected rhymes; Where-e'er you find "the cooling western breeze," In the next line, it "whispers thro' the trees;" If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep:" Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song,Line 356 That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow; And praise the easy vigour of a line,Line 360 Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join. True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance. tagJump to section'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, tagJump to sectionThe sound must seem an Echo to the sense:Line 365

tagJump to sectionSoft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; tagJump to sectionBut when loud surges lash the sounding shoar, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: tagJump to sectionWhen Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow; tagJump to sectionNot so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,Line 372 Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

tagJump to sectionHear how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprize, And bid alternate passions fall and rise!Line 375 While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove Now burns with glory, and then melts with love; Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow: Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found, And the World's victor stood subdu'd by Sound! The pow'r of Music all our hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is DRYDEN now.

tagJump to sectionAvoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such, Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.Line 385

At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence, That always shows great pride, or little sense; Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best, Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. Yet let not each gay Turn thy rapture move;Line 390 For fools admire, but men of sense approve: As things seem large which we thro' mists descry, Dulness is ever apt to magnify.

tagJump to sectionSome foreign writers, some our own despise; The Ancients only, or the Moderns prize.Line 395

Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is apply'd To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside. Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, And force that sun but on a part to shine, Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,Line 400 But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; tagJump to sectionWhich from the first has shone on ages past, Enlights the present, and shall warm the last; Tho' each may feel encreases and decays, And see now clearer and now darker days.Line 405 Regard not then if Wit be old or new, But blame the false, and value still the true.

tagJump to sectionSome ne'er advance a Judgment of their own, But catch the spreading notion of the Town; Line 410

They reason and conclude by precedent,Line 410 And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. Some judge of authors names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. Of all this servile herd, the worst is he That in proud dulness joins with Quality.Line 415 A constant Critic at the great man's board, To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord. What woful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me? But let a Lord once own the happy lines,Line 420 How the wit brightens! how the style refines! Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought!

tagJump to sectionThe Vulgar thus through Imitation err; As oft the Learn'd by being singular;Line 425

So much they scorn the croud, that if the throng By chance go right, they purposely go wrong: So Schismatics the plain believers quit, And are but damn'd for having too much wit.

Some praise at morning what they blame at night; But always think the last opinion right.Line 431 A Muse by these is like a mistress us'd, This hour she's idoliz'd, the next abus'd; While their weak heads like towns unfortify'd, Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side. Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say; And still to-morrow's wiser than to-day. We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow; Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.Line 439 Once School-divines this zealous isle o'er-spread; Who knew most Sentences, was deepest read; Faith, Gospel, all, seem'd made to be disputed, And none had sense enough to be confuted: tagJump to sectiontagJump to sectiontagJump to sectionScotists and Thomists, now, in peace remain, tagJump to sectionAmidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.Line 445

If Faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn, tagJump to sectionWhat wonder modes in Wit should take their turn? Oft', leaving what is natural and fit, The current folly proves the ready wit; Line 450

tagJump to sectionAnd authors think their reputation safe,Line 450 Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.

tagJump to sectionSome valuing those of their own side or mind, Still make themselves the measure of mankind:

Fondly we think we honour merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.Line 455 Parties in Wit attend on those of State, And public faction doubles private hate. Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose, In various shapes of Parsons, Critics, Beaus; But sense surviv'd, when merry jests were past; For rising merit will buoy up at last.Line 461 Might he return, and bless once more our eyes, tagJump to sectionNew Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise: Nay should great Homer lift his awful head, Zoilus again would start up from the dead.Line 465 Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue; But like a shadow, proves the substance true;

tagJump to sectionFor envy'd Wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own. When first that sun too pow'rful beams displays, It draws up vapours which obscure its rays;Line 471 But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way, Reflect new glories, and augment the day.

tagJump to sectionBe thou the first true merit to befriend; His praise is lost, who stays 'till all commend.Line 475

Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes, And 'tis but just to let them live betimes. No longer now that golden age appears, When Patriarch-wits surviv'd a thousand years: Now length of Fame (our second life) is lost,Line 480 And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast;

Our sons their fathers failing language see, And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be. tagJump to sectionSo when the faithful pencil has design'd Some bright Idea of the master's mind,Line 485 Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready Nature waits upon his hand; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light; When mellowing years their full perfection give, And each bold figure just begins to live, The treach'rous colours the fair art betray, And all the bright creation fades away!

Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things, Atones not sor that envy which it brings.Line 495

In youth alone its empty praise we boast, But soon the short-liv'd vanity is lost: Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies, That gayly blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies. What is this Wit, which must our cares employ? The owner's wife, that other men enjoy;Line 501 Then most our trouble still when most admir'd, And still the more we give, the more requir'd; Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease, Sure some to vex, but never all to please;Line 505 'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun, tagJump to sectionBy fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone!

If Wit so much from Ign'rance undergo, Ah let not Learning too commence its foe! Of old, those met rewards who could excell,Line 510 And such were prais'd who but endeavour'd well: Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due, Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too. Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown, Employ their pains to spurn some others down;

And while self-love each jealous writer rules, Contending wits become the sport of fools: But still the worst with most regret commend, For each ill Author is as bad a Friend.Line 520 To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd thro' sacred lust of praise! Ah ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, Nor in the Critic let the Man be lost. Good-nature and good-sense must ever join;Line 525 To err is human, to forgive, divine.

tagJump to sectionBut if in noble minds some dregs remain Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and four disdain;

Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.Line 530 No pardon vile Obscenity should find, Tho' wit and art conspire to move your mind; But Dulness with Obscenity must prove As shameful sure as Impotence in love. In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,Line 535 Sprung the rank weed, and thriv'd with large in|crease:

When love was all an easy Monarch's care; Seldom at council, never in a war: Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen farces writ; Nay wits had pensions, and young Lords had wit: The Fair sate panting at a Courtier's play,Line 541 And not a Mask went unimprov'd away: The modest fan was lifted up no more, And Virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before. The following licence of a Foreign reignLine 545 tagJump to sectionDid all the dregs of bold Socinus drain; tagJump to sectionThen unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation, And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;

Where Heav'n's free subjects might their rights dispute, Lest God himself should seem too absolute:Line 550 Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare, And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there! Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies, And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies. These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage, Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage! Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice, Will needs mistake an author into vice; All seems infected that th' infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.Line 560

tagJump to sectionLEARN then what MORALS Critics ought to show, tagJump to sectionFor 'tis but half a Judge's task, to know.

'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join; In all you speak, let truth and candour shine: That not alone what to your sense is dueLine 565 All may allow; but seek your friendship too.

Be silent always when you doubt your sense; And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence: Some positive, persisting fops we know, Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so;

But you, with pleasure own your errors past, And make each day a Critic on the last.

'Tis not enough, your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falshoods do; Men must be taught as if you taught them not,Line 575 And things unknown propos'd as things forgot. Without Good Breeding, truth is disapprov'd; That only makes superior sense belov'd.

Be niggards of advice on no pretence; For the worst avarice is that of sense.Line 580 With mean complacence ne'er betray your trust, Nor be so civil as to prove unjust.

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.

tagJump to section'Twere well might Critics still this freedom take, But Appius reddens at each word you speak,Line 586 tagJump to sectionAnd stares, tremendous, with a threat'ning eye, Like some fierce Tyrant in old tapestry. Fear most to tax an Honourable fool, Whose right it is, uncensur'd to be dull;Line 590 Such, without wit, are Poets when they please, As without learning they can take Degrees. Leave dang'rous truths to unsuccessful Satires, And flattery to fulsome Dedicators, Whom, when they praise, the world believes no more,Line 595 Than when they promise to give scribling o'er. 'Tis best sometimes your censure to restrain, And charitably let the dull be vain: Your silence there is better than your spite, For who can rail so long as they can write?Line 600

Still humming on, their drouzy course they keep, And lash'd so long, like tops, are lash'd asleep. False steps but help them to renew the race, As, after stumbling, Jades will mend their pace. What crouds of these, impenitently bold,Line 605 In sounds and jingling syllables grown old, Still run on Poets, in a raging vein, Ev'n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain, Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense, And rhyme with all the rage of Impotence.Line 610

Such shameless Bards we have; and yet 'tis true, There are as mad, abandon'd Critics too. The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears,Line 615 And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails, From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales. With him, most authors steal their works, or buy; tagJump to sectionGarth did not write his own Dispensary.Line 620

Name a new Play, and he's the Poet's friend, Nay show'd his faults—but when would Poets mend? No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, tagJump to sectionNor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's church yard: Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead:Line 625 For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread. Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks, It still looks home, and short excursions makes; But rattling nonsense in full vollies breaks, And never shock'd, and never turn'd aside,Line 630 tagJump to sectionBursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring tide.

tagJump to sectionBut where's the man, who counsel can bestow, Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know?

Unbiass'd, or by favour, or by spite; Not dully prepossess'd, nor blindly right;Line 635 Tho' learn'd, well-bred; and tho' well-bred, sincere; Modestly bold, and humanly severe: Who to a friend his faults can freely show, And gladly praise the merit of a foe? Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd;Line 640 A knowledge both of books and human kind;

Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from pride; tagJump to sectionAnd love to praise, with reason on his side?

Such once were Critics; such the happy few, Athens and Rome in better ages knew.Line 645 The mighty Stagirite first left the shore, tagJump to sectionSpread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore; He steer'd securely, and discover'd far, Led by the light of the Maeonian Star. Line 650

Poets, a race long unconfin'd, and free,Line 650 Still fond and proud of savage liberty, Receiv'd his laws; and stood convinc'd 'twas fit, tagJump to sectionWho conquer'd Nature, should preside o'er Wit.

Horace still charms with graceful negligence, And without method talks us into sense, Will, like a friend, familiarly convey The truest notions in the easiest way. He, who supreme in judgment, as in wit, Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ,Line 659 Yet judg'd with coolness, tho' he sung with fire; His Precepts teach but what his works inspire. Our Critics take a contrary extreme, They judge with fury, but they write with fle'me:

Nor suffers Horace more in wrong Translations By Wits, than Critics in as wrong Quotations.Line 665

tagJump to sectionSee Dionysius Homer's thoughts refine, And call new beauties forth from ev'ry line!

Fancy and art in gay Petronius please, The scholar's learning, with the courtier's ease.

In grave Quintilian's copious work, we findLine 670 The justest rules, and clearest method join'd: Thus useful arms in magazines we place, All rang'd in order, and dispos'd with grace, But less to please the eye, than arm the hand, Still fit for use, and ready at command.Line 675

Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire, And bless their Critic with a Poet's fire. An ardent Judge, who zealous in his trust, With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just; Whose own example strengthens all his laws;Line 680 And is himself that great Sublime he draws.

tagJump to sectionThus long succeeding Critics justly reign'd, Licence repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd. Line 684

Learning and Rome alike in empire grew;Line 684 And Arts still follow'd where her Eagles flew; From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom, And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome. With Tyranny, then Superstition join'd, As that the body, this enslav'd the mind; Much was believ'd, but little understood,Line 690 tagJump to sectionAnd to be dull was constru'd to be good; A second deluge Learning thus o'er-run, And the Monks finish'd what the Goths begun.

tagJump to sectionAt length Erasmus, that great injur'd name, tagJump to section(The glory of the Priesthood, and the shame!) Stem'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age,Line 696 And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.

tagJump to sectionBut see! each Muse, in LEO's golden days, Starts from her trance, and trim's her wither'd bays, Line 700

Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread,Line 700 Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive; Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live; With sweeter notes each rising Temple rung; A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung.Line 705 Immortal Vida: on whose honour'd brow The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow: Cremona now shall ever boast thy name, tagJump to sectionAs next in place to Mantua, next in fame!Line 709

tagJump to sectionBut soon by impious arms from Latium chas'd, Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd;

Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance, But Critic-learning flourish'd most in France: The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys; And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.Line 715 But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despis'd, And kept unconquer'd, and unciviliz'd; Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold, We still defy'd the Romans, as of old. Yet some there were, among the sounder few Of those who less presum'd, and better knew,Line 721 Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws. tagJump to sectionSuch was the Muse, whose rules and practice tell, " Nature's chief Master-piece is writing well."Line 725

Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good, With manners gen'rous as his noble blood; To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, And ev'ry author's merit, but his own. Such late was Walsh—the Muse's judge and friend, Who justly knew to blame or to commend;Line 731 To failings mild, but zealous for desert; The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. This humble praise, lamented shade! receive, This praise at least a grateful Muse may give:Line 735

The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing, Prescrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing, (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise, But in low numbers short excursions tries:Line 739 Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew: Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame; Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame; Averse alike to flatter, or offend;Line 744 Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

COMMENTARY.

An Essay]

The Poem is in one book, but divided into three principals parts or members. The first [to ℣ 201.] gives rules for the Study of the Art of Criticism: the second [from thence to ℣ 560.] exposes the Causes of wrong Judgment; and the third [from thence to the end] prescribes the Morals of the Critic.

In order to a right understanding of this poem, it will be ne|cessary to observe, that tho' it be intitled simply an Essay on Criticism, yet several of the precepts relate equally to the good writing as well as to the true judging of a poem. This is so far from violating the Unity of the Subject, that it rounds and com|pleats it: or from disordering the regularity of the Form, that it produces the highest beauty which can arise out of method, as will appear by the following considerations: 1. It was impossi|ble to give a full and exact idea of the Art of poetical Criticism, without considering, at the same time, the Art of Poetry; so far as Poetry is an Art. These therefore being closely connect|ed in nature, the Author has with much judgment reciprocally

interwoven the precepts of both thro' his whole poem. 2. As all the rules of the ancient Critics were taken from Poets who copied nature, this is another reason why every Poet should be a Critic: Therefore, as the subject is poetical Criticism, it is fre|quently addressed to the critical Poet. And 3dly, the Art of Criticism is as necessarily, and much more usefully exercised in writing than in judging.

But Readers have been misled by the modesty of the Title: which only promises an Art of Criticism, in a treatise, and that a compleat one, of the Art both of Criticism and Poetry. This, and the not attending to the considerations offered above, per|haps was what misled a very candid writer, after having given this Piece all the praises on the side of genius and poetry which his true taste could not resuse it, to say, that the observations fol|low one another like those in Horace's Art of Poetry, without that methodical regularity which would have been requisite in a prose writer. Spec. No 235. I do not see how method can hurt any one grace of Poetry; or what prerogative there is in verse to to dispense with regularity. The remark is false in every part of it. Mr. Pope's Essay on Criticism, the Reader will soon see, is a regular piece: And a very learned Critic has lately shewn, that Horace had the same attention to method in his Art of Poetry.

VER. 1.

'Tis hard to say, etc.]

The Poem opens [from ℣ 1 to 9.] with shewing the use and seasonableness of the subject. Its use, from the greater mischief in wrong Criticism than in ill Poetry, this only tiring that misleading the reader: Its season|ableness, from the growing number of false Critics, which now vastly exceeds that of bad Poets.

VER. 9.

'Tis with our judgments, etc.]

The author having

shewn us the expediency of his subject, the Art of Criticism, next inquires [from ℣ 8 to 15] into the necessary Qualities of a true Critic: And observes first, that JUDGMENT, simply and alone, is not sufficient to constitute this character, because Judg|ment, like the artificial measures of Time, goes different, and yet each relies upon his own. The reason is conclusive; and the similitude extremely just. For Judgment, when alone, is always regulated, or at least much inflenced by custom, fashion, and habit; and never certain and constant but when sounded upon TASTE: which is the same in the Critic, as GENIUS in the Poet: both are derived from Heaven, and like the Sun (the natural measure of Time) always constant and equal.

Nor need we wonder that Judgment alone will not make a Critic in poetry, when we see that it will not make a Poet. And on examination we shall find, that Genius and Taste are but one and the same faculty, differently exerting itself under different names, in the two prosessions of Poet and Critic. For the Art of Poetry consists in selecting, out of all those images which present themselves to the fancy, such of them as are truly poetical: And the Art of Criticism in judiciously discerning, and fully relishing what it finds so selected. 'Tis the same opera|tion of the mind in both cases, and consequently, exerted by the same faculty. All the difference is, that in the Poet this fa|culty is eminently joined with a bright imagination, and exten|sive comprehension, which provide stores for the selection, and can form that selection, by proportioned parts, into a regular whole: In the Critic, with a solid judgment and accurate discern|ment; which penetrate into the causes of an excellence, and can shew that excellence in all its variety of lights. Longinus had taste in an eminent degree; so this, which is indeed common to all true Critics, our Author makes his distinguishing character,

Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire, And bless their Critic with a Poet's fire.

VER. 15.

Let such teach others, etc.]

But it is not enough that the Critic hath these natural endowments to entitle him to the exercise of his Art, he ought, as our Author shews us [from ℣ 14 to 19] to give a further test of his qualification, by some acquired talents: And this on two accounts: 1. Because the of|fice of a Critic is an exercise of Authority. 2. Because he being naturally as partial to his Judgment as the Poet is to his Wit, his partiality would have nothing to correct it, as that of the per|son judged hath. Therefore some test is reasonable; and the best and most unexceptionable is his having written well himself, an approved remedy against Critical partiality; and the surest means of so maturing the Judgment, as to reap with glory what Longinus calls the last and most perfect fruits of much study and experience. Η ΓΑΡ ΤΩΝ ΛΟΓΩΝ ΚΡΙΣΙΣ ΠΟΛΛΗΣ ΕΣΤΙ ΠΕΙΡΑΣ ΤΕΛΕΥΤΑΙΟΝ ΕΠΙΓΕΝΝΗΜΑ.

VER. 19.

Yet if we look, etc.]

But having been so free with this fundamental quality of Criticism, Judgment, as to charge it with inconstancy and partiality, and as often warped by custom and affection; that this may not be mistaken, he next explains [from ℣ 18 to 36.) the nature of Judgment, and the accidents

occasioning those disorders before objected to it. He owns, that the seeds of Judgment are indeed sown in the minds of most men, but by ill culture, as it springs up, it generally runs wild: either on the one hand, by false knowledge which pedants call Philo|logy; or by false reasoning which Philosophers call School-learn|ing: Or on the other, by false wit which is not regulated by sense; or by false politeness which is solely regulated by the fa|shion. Both these sorts, who have their Judgments thus doubly

depraved, the poet observes, are naturally turned to censure and reprehension; only with this difference, that the Dunce always affects to be on the reasoning, and the Fool on the laughing side.—And thus, at the same time, our author proves the truth of his introductory observation, that the number of bad Critics is vastly superior to that of bad Poets.

VER. 36.

Some have at first for Wits, etc.]

The poet having enumerated, in this account of the nature of Judgment and its

various depravations, the several sorts of bad Critics, and ranked them into two general Classes; as the first sort, namely the men spoiled by false learning, are but few in comparison of the other, and likewise come less within his main view (which is poetical Criticism) but keep groveling at the bottom amongst words and letters, he thought it here sufficient just to have mentioned them, proposing to do them right elsewhere. But the men spoiled by false taste are innumerable; and These are his proper concern: He therefore, from ℣ 35 to 46. sub-divides them again into the two classes of the volatile and heavy: He describes in few words the quick progress of the One thro' Criticism, from false wit to plain solly, where they end; and the fixed station of the Other between the confines of both; who under the name of Wit|••ings, have neither end nor measure. A kind of half formed creature from the equivocal generation of vivacity and dulness, like those on the banks of Nile, from heat and mud.

VER. 46.

But you who seek, etc.]

Our author having thus far, by way of INTRODUCTION, explained the nature, use, and abuse of Criticism, in a figurative description of the qua|lities and characters of Critics, proceeds now to deliver the pre|cepts of the Art. The first of which, from ℣ 47 to 68. is, that he who sets up for a Critic should previously examine his own strength, and see how far he is qualified for the exercise of his profession. He puts him in a way to make this discovery, in that admirable direction given ℣ 51.

AND MARK THAT POINT WHERE SENSE AND DULNESS MEET.

He had shewn above, that Judgment, without Taste or Genius, is equally incapable of making a Critic or a Poet: In whatsoever subject then the Critic's Taste no longer accompanies his Judg|ment, there he may be assured he is going out of his depth. This our author finely calls,

that point where sense and dulness meet.

And immediately adds the REASON of his precept; the Author of Nature having so constituted the mental faculties, that one of them can never excel but at the expence of another.

From this state and ordination of the mental faculties, and the influence and effects they have one on another, our Poet draws this CONSEQUENCE, that no one genius can excell in more than one Art or Science. The consequence shews the necessity of the precept, just as the premisses, from which it is drawn, shew the reasonableness of it.

VER. 68.

First follow Nature, etc]

The Critic observing the directions here given, and finding himself qualified for his office, is shewn next how to exercise it. And as he was to attend to Nature for a Call, so he is first and principally to follow her when called. And here again in this, as in the foregoing pre|cept, the poet [from ℣ 67 to 88.] shews both the fitness and the necessity of it. It's fitness, 1. Because Nature is the source of poetic Art; that Art being only a representation of Nature, who is its great exemplar and original. 2. Because Nature is the end of Art; the design of poetry being to convey the knowledge of

Nature in the most agreeable manner. 3. Because Nature is the test of Art, as she is unerring, constant, and still the same. Hence the poet observes, that as Nature is the source, she con|veys life to Art: As she is the end, she conveys force to it, for the force of any thing arises from its being directed to its end: And, as she is the test, she conveys beauty to it, for every thing acquires beauty by its being reduced to its true standard. Such is the sense of those two important lines,

Life, force, and beauty must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of Art.

We now come to the necessity of the Precept. The two great constituent qualities of a Composition, as such, are Art and Wit: But neither of these attains perfection, 'till the first be hid, and the other judiciously restrained; which is only then when Na|ture is exactly followed; for then Art never makes a parade, nor can Wit commit an extravagance. Art, while it adheres to Nature, and has so large a fund in the resources which Nature supplies, disposes every thing with so much ease and simplicity, that we see nothing but those natural images it works with, while itself stands unobserv'd behind: But when Art leaves Na|ture, deluded either by the bold extravagance of Fancy, or the quaint odnesses of Fashion, she is then obliged at every step to come forward, in a painful or pompous ostentation, in order to cover, to soften, or to regulate the shocking disproportion of unnatural images. In the first case, the poet compares Art to the Soul within, informing a beauteous Body; but we general|ly find it, in the last, only like the outward Habit, bolstering up, by the Taylor's skill, the defects of a mis-shapen one.—As to

Wit, it might perhaps be imagined that this needed only Judg|ment to govern it: But, as he well observes,

Wit and Judgment often are at strife, Tho' meant each other's aid, like Man and Wife.

They want therefore some friendly Mediator or Reconciler, which is Nature: And in attending to her, the Judgment will learn where to comply with the charms of Wit, and the Wit how to obey the sage directions of Judgment.

VER. 88.

Those Rules of old etc.]

Having thus, in his first precept, to follow Nature, settled Criticism on its true bottom; he proceeds to shew what assistance may be had from Art. But

lest this should be thought to draw the Critic from the founda|tion where he had before fixed him, he previously observes [from ℣ 87 to 92] that those Rules of Art, which he is now about to recommend to his study, were not invented by the Imagina|tion, but discovered in the book of Nature: And that, there|fore, tho' they may seem to restrain Nature by Laws, yet, as they are laws of her own making, the Critic is still properly in the very liberty of Nature. Those Rules the ancient Critics borrowed from the Poets, who received them immediately from Nature,

Just Precepts thus srom great Examples giv'n, These drew from them what they deriv'd from Heav'n;

and are both therefore to be well studied.

VER. 92.

Hear how learn'd Greece, etc.]

He speaks of the ancient Critics first, and with great judgment, as the previous knowledge of them is necessary for reading the Poets, with that fruit which the intent here proposed requires. But having, in the previous observation, sufficiently explained the nature of ancient Criticism, he enters on the subject [treated of from ℣ 91 to 118] with a sublime description of its End; which was to

illustrate the beauties of the best Writers, in order to excite others to an emulation of their excellence. From the admiration which these Ideas raise in him, the poet is naturally brought back to reflect on the degeneracy of modern Criticism: And as the restoring the Art to its original integrity and splendor is the great purpose of his poem, he first takes notice of those, who seem not to understand that Nature is exhaustless, that new mo|dels of good writing may be produced in every age, and con|sequently new rules may be formed from these models in the same manner as the old Critics formed theirs, from the writings of the ancient Poets: but these men wanting art and ability to form these new rules, are content to receive, and file up for use, the old ones of Aristotle, Quintilian, Longinus, Horace, etc. with the same vanity and boldness that Apothecaries practise with their Doctors bills: And thus rashly applying them to new Originals (cases which they did not hit) it was no more in their power than their inclination to imitate the candid practice of the An|cients, when

The gen'rous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire.

For, as Ignorance, when joined with Humility produces stu|pid admiration, on which account it is so commonly observed to be the mother of Devotion and blind homage; so when joined with Vanity (as it always is in bad Critics) it gives birth to every iniquity of impudent abuse and slander. See an example (for want of a better) in a late worthless and now forgotten thing, called the Life of Socrates. Where the head of the Author (as a man of wit observed, on reading the book) has just made a shift to do the office of a Camera obscura, and represent things in an inverted order; himself above, and Sprat, Rollin, Voltaire, and every other Author of reputation, below.

VER. 118.

You then whose judgment etc.]

He comes next to the ancient Poets, the other and more intimate commentators of Nature. And shews [from ℣ 117 to 141.] that the study of These must indispensably follow that of the ancient Critics, as they furnish us with what the Critics, who only give us general rules, cannot supply: while the study of a great original Poet, in

His Fable, Subject, scope in ev'ry page; Religion, Country, genius of his Age;

will help us to those particular rules, which only can conduct us

safely through every considerable work we undertake to exa|mine; and, without which, we may cavil indeed, as the poet truly observes, but can never criticize. We might as well sup|pose that Vitruvius's book alone would make a perfect Judge of Architecture, without the knowledge of some great master-piece of science, such as the Rotonda at Rome, or the Temple of Mi|nerva at Athens; as that Aristotle's should make a perfect Judge of wit, without the study of Homer and Virgil. These there|fore he principally recommends to complete the Critic in his Art. But as the latter of these Poets has, by superficial judges, been considered rather as a copyer of Homer, than an original, our Author obviates that common error, and shews it to have arisen (as often error does) from a truth, viz. that Homer and Nature were the same; and how that the ambitious young Poet, though he scorned to stoop at any thing short of Nature, when he came to understand this great truth, had the prudence to contemplate Nature in the place where she was seen to most ad|vantage, collected in all her charms in the clear mirror of Ho|mer. Hence it would follow, that, though Virgil studied Na|ture,

yet the vulgar reader would believe him to be a copier of Homer; and though he copied Homer, yet the judicious reader would see him to be an imitator of Nature: the finest praise which any one, who came after Homer, could receive.

VER. 141.

Some beauties yet no Precepts can declare, etc.]

Our Author, in these two general precepts for studying Nature and her Commentators, having considered Poetry as it is, or may be reduced to Rule; lest this should be mistaken as sufficient to attain PERFECTION either in writing or judging, he proceeds [from ℣ 140 to 201.] to point up to those sublimer beauties which Rules will never reach, that is, enable us either to exe|cute or taste: and which rise so high above all precept as not even to be described by it; but being entirely the gift of Heaven, Art and Reason have no further share in their production than just to moderate their operations. These Sublimities of Poetry, like the Mysteries of Religion (some of which are above Rea|son, and some contrary to it) may be divided into two sorts, such as are above Rules, and such as are contrary to them.

VER. 146.

If, where the rules etc.]

The first sort our author

describes [from ℣ 145 to 158.] and shews, that where a great beauty is in the Poet's view which no stated Rules will direct him how to reach, there, as the purpose of rules is only to pro|mote an end like this, a lucky Licence will supply the want of them: nor can the Critic fairly object to it, since this Li|cence, for the reason given above, has the proper sorce and au|thority of a Rule.

VER. 159.

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, etc.]

He describes next the second sort, the beauties against rule. And even here, as he observes [from ℣ 158 to 169] the of|fense is so glorious, and the fault so sublime, that the true Critic will not dare either to censure or reform them. Yet still the Poet is never to abandon himself to his Imagination: the rules our author lays down for his conduct in this respect, are these: 1. That though he transgress the letter of some one particular precept, yet that he still adhere to the end or spirit of them all; which end is the creation of one uniform perfect Whole. And 2. That he have, in each instance, the authority of the dispens|ing power of the Ancients to plead for him. These rules observ|ed, this licence will be seldom used, and only when he is com|pelled by need: which will disarm the Critic, and screen the trans|gressor from his laws.

VER. 169.

I know there are, etc.]

But as some modern Critics have had the presumption to say, that this last rule is only justi|fying one fault by another, our author goes on [from ℣ 168 to 181] to vindicate the Ancients; and to shew that this cen|sure proceeds from rank Ignorance. As where their partial Judgment cannot see that this licence is sometimes necessary for the symmetry and proportion of a perfect whole, from the point, and in the light wherein it must be viewed: or, where their hasty Judgment will not give them time to discover, that a deviation from rule is for the sake of attaining some great and admirable purpose.—These observations are further useful as they tend to give modern Critics an humbler opinion of their own abilities, and an higher of the Authors they undertake to criticize. On which account He concludes with a fine reproof of that common proverb perpetually in the mouths of Critics, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus; misunderstanding the sense of Horace, and taking quandoque for aliquando:

Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

VER. 181.

Still green with bays, etc.]

But now fired with the name of Homer, and transported with the contemplation of those beauties which a cold Critic can neither see nor conceive, the Poet [from ℣ 180 to 201.] breaks into a rapturous exclama|tion on the rare felicity of those few Ancients who have risen superior over time and accidents: And, as it were disdaining any longer to reason with his Critics, offers this to them as the surest confutation of their censures. Then with the humility of a supplicant at the shrine of Immortals, and the Sublimity of a Poet participating of their fire, he turns again to these ancient worthies, and apostrophises their Manes:

Hail, Bards triumphant! etc.

VER. 200.

T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own.]

This line concludes the first division of the Poem; in which we

see the subject of the first and second part, and likewise the con|nexion they have with one another. It serves likewise to in|troduce the second. The effect of studying the Ancients, as hi|therto recommended, would be the admiration of their superior sense; which, if it will not of itself dispose Moderns to a diffi|dence of their own (one of the great uses, as well as natural fruits of that study) the poet, to help forward their modesty, in his second part shews them (in a regular deduction of the causes and effects of wrong Judgment) their own image and amiable turn of mind.

VER. 201.

Of all the Causes, etc.]

Having, in the first part, delivered Rules for perfecting the Art of Criticism, the second is employ'd in explaining the Impediments to it. The order of the two parts is judicious. For the causes of wrong Judgment be|ing Pride, superficial Learning, a bounded Capacity, and Partia|lity; Those to whom this part is principally addressed, would not readily be brought either to see the malignity of the causes, or to own themselves concerned in the effects, had not the Author previously both enlightened and convicted them, by the fore|going observations, on the vastness of Art, and narrowness of Wit; the extensive study of human Nature and Antiquity; and the Characters of ancient Poetry and Criticism; the natural reme|dies to the four epidemic disorders he is now endeavouring to redress.

Ibid.

Of all the causes, etc.]

The first cause of wrong Judg|ment is PRIDE. He judiciously begins with it, [from ℣ 200 to 215] as on other accounts, so on this, that it is the very thing which gives modern Criticism its character; whose com|plexion is abuse and censure. He calls it the vice of Fools; by whom are not meant those to whom Nature has given no Judg|ment (for he is here speaking of what misleads the Judgment) but those in whom education and study has made no improve|ment; as appears from the happy similitude of an ill-nourish'd

body; where the same words which express the cause, expres. likewise the nature of pride:

For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find, What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind.

'Tis the business of reason, he tells us, to dispel the cloud which pride throws over the mind: But the mischief is, that the rays of reason, diverted by self-love, sometimes gild this cloud, instead of dissipating it. So that the Judgment, by false lights reflected back upon itself, is still apt to be a little dazzled, and to mis|take its object. He therefore advises to call in still more helps:

Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, Make use of ev'ry Friend—and ev'ry Foe.

Both the beginning and conclusion of this precept are remarkable. The question is of the means to subdue Pride: He directs the Critic to begin with a distrust of himself; and this is Modesty, the first mortification of Pride: And then to seek the assistance of others, and make use even of an Enemy; and this is Humility, the last mortification of Pride: For when a man can once bring himself to submit to profit by an enemy, he has either already quite subdued his Vanity, or is in a fair way of so doing.

VER. 215.

A little learning, etc.]

We must here remark the Poet's skill in his disposition of the causes obstructing true Judg|ment. Each general cause which is laid down first, has its own particular cause in that which follows. Thus, the second cause of wrong Judgment, SUPERFICIAL LEARNING, is what gives birth to that critical Pride, which he mentioned first.

VER. 216.

Drink deep, etc.]

Nature and Learning are the pole stars of all true Criticism: But Pride hinders the sight of Nature; and a smattering of letters takes away all sense of the want of Learning. To avoid this ridiculous situation, the poet [from ℣ 214 to 233] advises, either to drink deep, or not to taste at all; for the least sip is enough to make a bad Critic, while even a moderate draught can never make a good one. And yet the labours and difficulties of drinking deep are so great that a young author,

"Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy,"

and am|bitious to snatch a palm from Rome, engages in an undertak|ing as arduous almost as that of Hannibal: Finely illustrated by the similitude of an unexperienced traveller penetrating thro' the Alps.

VER. 233.

A perfect Judge, etc.]

The third cause of wrong Judgment is a NARROW CAPACITY; the natural and certain cause of the foregoing defect, acquiescence in superficial learning. This bounded Capacity the poet shews [from 232 to 384.] be|trays itself two ways; in the matter, and in the manner of the

work criticised. In the matter by judging by parts; or by having one favorite part to a neglect of all the rest: In the manner, by confining the regard only to conceit, or language, or numbers. This is our Poet's order; and we shall follow him as it leads us; only just observing one great beauty which runs thro' this part of the poem; it is, that under each of these heads of wrong Judgment, he has intermixed excellent precepts for right. We shall take notice of them as they occur.

He exposes the folly of judging by parts very artfully, not by a direct description of that sort of Critic, but of his opposite, a perfect Judge, etc. Nor is the elegance of this conversion in|ferior to the art of it; for as, in poetic style, one word or figure is still put for another, in order to catch new lights from dif|ferent images, and to reflect them back upon the subject in hand; so, in poetic matter, one person or thing may be advan|tageously employed for another, with the same elegance of re|presentation. It is observable that our Author makes it almost the necessary consequence of judging by parts, to find fault: And this not without much discernment: For the several parts of a compleat Whole, when seen only singly, and known only indepen|dently,

must always have the appearance of irregularity; often, of deformity: Because the Poet's design being to create a result|ive beauty from the artful assemblage of several various parts into one natural whole; those parts must be fashioned with re|gard to their mutual relations in the stations they occupy in that whole, from whence, the beauty required is to arise: But that regard will occasion so unreducible a form in each part, when considered singly, as to present a very mis-shapen appearance.

VER. 253.

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,]

He shews next [from ℣ 252 to 263] that to fix our censure on single parts tho' they happen to want an exactness consistent enough with their relation to the rest, is even then very unjust: And for these reasons, 1. Because it implies an expectation of a faultless piece, which is a vain imagination: 2. Because no more is to be expected of any work than that it fairly attains its end: But the end may be attained, and yet these trivial faults committed: Therefore, in spight of such faults, the work will merit the praise due to that which attains its end. 3. Because sometimes a great beauty is not to be procured, nor a notorious blemish to be avoided, but by suffering one of these minute and trivial errors. 4. And laftly, because the generous neglect of them is a praise; as it is the indication of a Genius, busied about greater matters.

VER. 263.

Most Critics, fond of some subservient art, etc.]

II. The second way in which a narrow capacity, as it relates to the matter, shews itself, is judging by a favorite Part. The au|thor has placed this [from ℣ 262 to 285] after the other of judging by parts, with great propriety, it being indeed a natural consequence of it. For when men have once left the whole to turn their attention to the separate parts, that regard and reverence due only to a whole is fondly transferred to one or other of its parts. And thus we see that Heroes themselves as well as Heromakers, even Kings as well as Poets and Critics, when they chance never to have had, or long to have lost the idea of that which is the only legitimate object of their office, the care and conservation of the whole, are wont to devote themselves to the service of some favorite part, whether it be love of money, mi|litary glory, despotic power, etc. And all, as our Author says on this occasion,

to one lov'd Folly sacrifice.

This general misconduct much recommends that maxim in good Poetry and Politics, to give a principal attention to the whole; a maxim which our author has elswhere shewn to be equally true likewise in Morals and Religion; as being founded in the order of things: For, if we examine, we shall find it arise from this imbecillity of our nature, that the mind must always have some|thing to rest upon, to which the passions and affections may be interestingly directed. Nature prompts us to seek it in the most worthy object; and common sense points out to a Whole or System: But Ignorance, and the false lights of the Passions, confound and dazzle us; we stop short, and before we get to a Whole, take up with some Part; which from thence becomes our Fa|vourite.

VER. 285.

Thus Critics of less judgment than caprice, Curious not knowing, not exact but nice,Form short Ideas, etc.]

2. He concludes his observations on those two sorts of judges by parts, with this general reflexion.—The curious not knowing are the first sort, who judge by parts, and with a microscopic sight (as he says elsewhere) examine bit by bit: The not exact but nice, are the second, who judge by a favourite part, and talk of a whole to cover their sondness for a part; as Philosophers do of principles, in order to obtrude their notions or opinions for them.

But the fate common to both is, to be governed by caprice and not by Judgment, and consequently, to form short ideas, or to have ideas short of truth: Tho' the latter sort, thro' a fondness to their favorite part, imagine that they comprehend the whole in epitome: As the famous Hero of La Mancha, mentioned just before, used to maintain, that Knight Errantry comprised with|in itself the quintessence of all Science, civil and military.

VER. 289.

Some to Conceit alone, etc.]

We come now to that second sort of bounded capacity, which betrays itself in the man|ner of the work criticised. And this our Author prosecutes from ℣ 288 to 384. These are again subdivided into divers classes.

Ibid.

Some to Conceit alone, etc.]

The first from ℣ 288 to 305.] are those who confine their attention solely to Conceit or Wit. And here again the Critic by parts, offends doubly in the manner, just as he did in the matter: For he not only confines his atten|tion

to a part, when it should be extended to the whole; but he likewise judges salsely of that part. And this, like the other, is unavoidable, as the parts in the manner, bear the same close relation to the whole, that the parts in the matter do; to which whole the ideas of this Critic have never yet extended. Hence it is, that our author, speaking here of those who confine their attention solely to Conceit or Wit, describes the two species of true and false Wit; because they not only mistake a wrong dis|position of true Wit for a right, but likewise false Wit for true: He describes false Wit first, from ℣ 288 to 297.

Some to Conceit alone, etc.

Where the reader may observe our Author's skill in representing, in a description of salse Wit, the false disposition of the true, as the Critic by parts is apt to fall into both these errors.

He next describes true Wit, from 296 to 305.

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd, etc.

And here again the reader may observe the same beauty, not on|ly an explanation of true Wit, but likewise of the right disposition of it; which the poet illustrates, as he did the wrong, by ideas taken from the art of Painting.

VER. 305.

Others for Language, etc.]

He proceeds secondly to those narrow-minded Critics, whose whole concern turns upon Language, and shews [from ℣ 304 to 337.] that this qua|lity, where it holds the principal place, deserves no commenda|tion; 1. Because it excludes qualities more essential. And when the abounding Verbiage has excluded the sense, the writer has nothing to do but to gild over the defect, by giving his words all the false colouring in his power.

2. He shews, that the Critic who busies himself with this quality alone, is altogether unable to make a right Judgment of it; because true Expression is only the dress of Thought; and so must be perpetually varied according to the subject, and man|ner

of thinking. But those who never concern themselves with the Sense, can form no judgment of the correspondence between that and the Language:

Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent as more suitable, etc.

Now as these Critics are ignorant of this correspondence, their whole judgment in Language is reduced to the examination of single words; of which, such as are to his taste, are so only in proportion as they smack of Antiquity: On which our author has therefore bestowed a little raillery; concluding with a short and proper direction concerning the use of words, so far as re|gards their novelty and ancientry.

VER. 337.

But most by Numbers judge, etc.]

The last sort are those [from ℣ 336 to 384.] whose ears are attached only to the Harmony of a poem. Of which they judge as ignorantly and as perversely as the other sort did of Eloquence; and for the very same reason. He first describes that false Harmony with which they are so much captivated; and shews, that it is wretchedly flat and unvaried: For

Smooth or rough with them is right or wrong.

He then describes the true. 1. As it is in itself, constant; with a happy mixture of strength and sweetness, in contradiction to the roughness and flatness of false Harmony: And 2. as it is

varied, in compliance to the subject, where the sound becomes an who to the sense, so far as is consistent with the preservation of numbers; in contradiction to the monotony of false Harmony: Of this he gives us, in the delivery of his precepts, four fine ex|amples of smoothness, roughness, slowness, and rapidity. The first use of this correspondence of the sound to the sense, is to aid the fancy in acquiring a perfecter and more lively image of the thing represented. A second and nobler, is to calm and sub|due the turbulent and selfish passions, and to raise and warm the beneficent: Which he illustrates in the famous adventure of Timotheus and Alexander: where, in referring to Mr. Dryden's Ode on that subject, he turns it to a high compliment on that great poet.

VER. 384.

Avoid Extremes, etc.]

Our Author is now come to the last cause of wrong judgment, PARTIALITY; the pa|rent of the immediately preceding cause, a bounded capacity: Nothing so much narrowing and contracting the mind as pre|judices entertained for or against things or persons. This, therefore, as the main root of all the foregoing, he prosecutes at large from ℣ 383 to 473.

First, to ℣ 394. he previously exposes that capricious turn of mind, which, by running men into Extremes, either of praise or dispraise, lays the foundation of an habitual partiality. He cautions therefore both against one and the other; and shews that excess of Praise is the mark of a bad taste; and excess of Cen|sure, of a bad digestion.

VER. 394.

Some foreign writers, etc.]

Having explained the disposition of mind which produces an habitual partiality, be preceeds to expose this partiality in all the shapes in which it ap|peats both amongst the unlearned and the learned.

I. In the unlearned, it is seen, first, In an unreasonable fond|ness for, or aversion to our own or foreign, to ancient or modern writers. And as it is the mob of unlearned readers he is here speaking of, he exposes their solly in a very apposite similitude:

Thus Wit, like Faith, by each Man is apply'd To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.

But he shews [from ℣ 397 to 408] that these Critics have as wrong a notion of Reason as those Bigots have of God: For that Genius is not confined to times or climates; but, as the common gist of Nature, is extended throughout all ages and countries: That indeed this intellectual light, like the material light of the Sun itself, may not shine at all times, in every place, with equal splendor; but be sometimes clouded with popular ig|norance; and sometimes again eclipsed by the discountenance of Princes; yet it shall still recover itself; and, by breaking thro' the strongest of these impediments, manifest the eternity of its nature.

VER. 408.

Some ne'er advance a Judgment of their own]

A second instance of unlearned partiality, he shews [from ℣ 407 to 424.] is mens going always along with the cry, as having no fixed or well grounded principles whereon to raise any judgment of their own. A third is reverence for names; of which sort, as he well observes, the worst and vilest are the idolizers of names of quality; whom therefore he stigmatizes as they deserve. Our

author's temper as well as judgment is here very observable, in throwing this species of partiality amongst the unlearned Critics: His affection for letters would not suffer him to conceive, that any learned Critic could ever fall to so low a prostitution.

VER. 424.—

The Vulgar thus—As oft the Learn'd—]

II. He comes, in the second place [from ℣ 423 to 452] to consider the instances of partiality in the learned. 1. The first is Singula|rity. For, as want of principles, in the unlearned, necessitates them to rest on the general judgment as always right; so adhe|rence to false principles (that is, to notions of their own) mis|leads the learned into the other extreme, of supposing the gene|ral

judgment always wrong. And as, before, the Poet com|pared those to Bigots, who made true faith to consist in believ|ing after others; so he compares these to Schismaticks, who make it to consist in believing as no one ever believed before. Which folly he marks with a lively stroke of humour in the turn of the thought:

So Schismatics the plain believers quit, And are but damn'd for having too much Wit.

2. The second is Novelty. And as this proceeds sometimes from fondness, sometimes from vanity; he compares the one to the passion for a mistress; and the other, to the pride of being in fa|shion: But the excuse common to both is, the daily improvement of their Judgment.

Ask them the cause, they're wiser still they say.

Now as this is a plausible pretence for their inconstancy; and our author has himself afterwards laid down the like thought, in a precept for a remedy against obstinacy and pride, where he says, ℣ 570.

But you with pleasure own your errors past, And make each day a critic on the last,

he has been careful, by the turn of the expression in this place, to shew the difference. For Time, considered only as duration, vitiates as frequently as it improves: Therefore to expect wis|dom as the necessary attendant of length of years, unrelated to long experience, is vain and delusive. This he illustrates by a remarkable example; where we see Time, instead of becoming wiser, destroying good letters, to substitute school divinity in their place.—The genius of which kind of learning; the character of its professors; and the sate, which, sooner or later, always at|tends whatsoever is wrong or false, the poet sums up in those four lines;

Faith, Gospel, all seem'd made to be disputed, etc.

And in conclusion, he observes, that perhaps this mischief, from love of novelty, might not be so great, did it not, with the Critic, infect Writers likewise; who, when they find their rea|ders disposed to take ready Wit on the standard of current Folly, never trouble themselves to make better payment.

VER. 452.

Some valuing those of their own side or mind, etc.]

3. The third and last instance of partiality in the learned, is Party and Faction. Which is consider'd from ℣ 451 to 474. where he shews how men of this turn deceive themselves when they load a writer of their own side with commendation. They fancy they are paying tribute to merit, when they are only sa|crificing to self-love. But this is not the worst. He further shews, that this party spirit has often very ill effects on Science

itself; while, in support of Faction, it labours to depress some rising Genius, that was, perhaps, raised by nature, to enlighten his age and country. By which he would insinuate, that all the base and viler passions seek refuge, and find support in party madness.

VER. 474.

Be thou the first, etc.]

The poet having now gone thro' the last cause of wrong Judgment, and root of all the rest, PARTIALITY; and ended it with the highest instances of it, in party-rage and envy; this affords him an opportunity [from ℣ 473 to 560.] of closing his second division in the most graceful manner, by concluding from the premisses, and calling upon the TRUE CRITIC to be careful of his charge, which is the protec|tion and support of Wit. For, the defence of it from malevo|lent censure is its true protection; and the illustration of its beauties, its true support.

He first shews, the Critic ought to do this service without delay: And on these motives. 1. Out of regard to himself: For there is some merit in giving the world notice of an excellence; but none at all in pointing, like an Idiot, to that which has been long in the admiration of men. 2. Out of regard to the Poem: For the short duration of modern works requires they should begin

to enjoy their existence early. He compares the life of modern Wit, and of the ancient, which survives in an universal language, to the difference between the Patriarchal age and our own: And observes, that while the ancient writings live for ever, as it were in brass and marble, the modern are but like Paintings, which, of how masterly a hand soever, have no sooner gained their requisite perfection by the incorporating, softening, and ripening of their tints, which they do in a very few years, but they begin to fade and die away. 3. Lastly, our author shews, that the Critic ought to do this service out of regard to the Poet; when he considers the slender dowry the Muse brings along with her: In youth 'tis only a short lived vanity; and in maturer years an accession of care and labour, in proportion to the weight of Re|putation to be sustained, and of the increase of Envy to be oppo|sed: And concludes his reasoning therefore on this head, with that pathetic and insinuating address to the Critic, from 508 to 524.

Ah! let not learning, etc.

VER 527.

But if in noble minds some dregs remain, etc.]

So far as to what ought to be the true Critic's principal study and employment. But if the four critical humour must needs have vent, he points to its right object; and shews [from ℣ 526 to 556.] how it may be usefully and innocently diverted. This is very observable; for our author makes spleen and disdain the characteristic of the false Critic, and yet here supposes them inherent in the true. But it is done with judgment, and a knowledge of nature. For as bitterness and acerbity in un|ripe fruits of the best kind are the foundation and capacity of that high spirit, race, and flavour which we find in them, when perfectly concocted by the heat and influence of the Sun; and which, without those qualities, would often gain no more by that influence than only a mellow insipidity: so spleen and disdain in the true Critic, improved by long study and experience, ripen into an exactness of Judgment and an elegance of Taste: But, lying in the false Critic remote from

the influence of good letters, continue in all their first offensive harshness and astringency. The Poet therefore shews how, af|ter the exaltation of these qualities into their state of perfection, the very Dregs (which, tho' precipitated, may possibly, on some occasions, rise and ferment even in a noble mind) may be use|fully employed in branding OBSCENITY and IMPIETY. Of these he explains the rise and progress, in a beautiful picture of the different genius's of the reigns of Charles II. and William III. the former of which gave course to the most profligate luxury; the latter to a licentious impiety. These are the criminals the poet assigns over to the caustic hand of the Critic, but concludes however, from ℣ 556 to 561. with this necessary admonition, to take care not to be misled into unjust censure; either on the one hand, by a pharisaical niceness, or on the other by a con|sciousness of guilt. And thus the second division of his Essay ends: The judicious conduct of which is worthy our observa|tion. The subject of it are the causes of wrong Judgment: These he derives upwards from cause to cause, till he brings them to their source, an immoral partiality: For as he had, in the first part,

trac'd the Muses upward to their spring,

and shewn them to be derived from Heaven, and the Offspring of virtue; so hath he here pursued this enemy of the Muses, the bad Critic, to his low original, in the arms of his nursing mother Immorality. This order naturally introduces, and at the same time shews the necessity of, the subject of the third and last division, which is, on the Morals of the Critic.

VER. 561.

Learn then, etc.]

We enter now on the third part, the MORALS of the Critic; included in CANDOUR, MO|DESTY, and GOOD-BREEDING. This third and last part is in two divisions. In the first of which [from ℣ 560 to 632.] he inculcates these morals by precept: In the second [from ℣ 631 to the end] by example. His first precept [from ℣ 562 to 567.] recommends CANDOUR, for its use to the Critic, and to the writer criticised.

2. The second [from ℣ 566 to 573.] recommends MODESTY, which manifests itself by these four signs: 1. Silence where it doubts,

Be silent always when you doubt your sense;

2. A seeming diffidence where it knows,

And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence:

3. A free confession of error where wrong,

But you with pleasure own your errors past,

4. And a constant review and scrutiny even of those opinions which it still thinks right:

And make each day a Critic on the last.

3. The third [from ℣ 572 to 585.] recommends GOOD BREEDING, which will not force truth dogmatically upon men, as ignorant of it, but gently insinuates it into them, as not suf|ficiently attentive to it. But as men of breeding are apt to fall in|to two extremes, he prudently cautions against them. The one is a backwardness in communicating their knowledge, out of a false delicacy, and fear of being thought Pedants: The other, and much more common extreme in men of breeding, is a mean com|placence, which such as are worthy of your advice do not want to make it acceptable; for those can best bear reproof in par|ticular points, who best deserve commendation in general.

VER. 585.

'Twere well might Critics, etc.]

The poet having thus recommended, in these general rules of Conduct for the Judgment, the three critical Virtues to the heart; shews next [from ℣ 584 to 632.] on what three sort of Writers these Vir|tues, together with the advice conveyed under them, would be thrown away; and, which is worse, be repaid with obloquy and slander. These are the false Critic, the dull Man of Qua|lity, and the bad Poet; each of which incorrigible writers he hath very justly and exactly characterized.

But having drawn the last of them at large, and being always attentive to his main subject, which is, of writing and judging well, he re-assumes the character of the bad Critic (whom he had but touched upon before) to contrast him with the other; and makes the Characteristic common to both, to be a never|ceasing Repetition of their own impertinence.

The Poet,—still runs on in a raging vein, etc. ℣ 607, etc.

The Critic—with his own tongue still edifies his ears, ℣ 615, etc.

VER. 631.

But where's the man, etc.]

II. The second division of this last part, which we now come to, is of the Morals of Critics by example. For, having there drawn a picture of the false Critic, at large, he breaks out into an apostrophe, con|taining an exact and finished character of the true, which, at the same time, serves for an easy and proper introduction to this second division. For, having asked [from ℣ 631 to 644.] Where's the

man, etc. he answers [from ℣ 643 to 682.] That he was to be found in the happier ages of Greece and Rome; in the persons of Aristotle and Horace, Dionysius and Petronius, Quintilian and Longinus. Whose features he has not only exactly delineated, but contrasted with a peculiar elegance; the profound science and logical method of Aristotle being opposed to the plain common sense of Horace, conveyed in a natural and familiar negligence; the study and refinement of Dionysius, to the gay and courtly ease of Petronius; and the gravity and minuteness of Quintilian, to the vivacity and general topics of Longinus. Nor has the Poet been less careful, in these examples, to point out their eminence in the several critical Virtues he so carefully inculcated in his precepts. Thus in Horace he particularizes his Candour, in Pe|tronius his Good Breeding, in Quintilian his free and copious In|struction, and in Longinus his noble Spirit.

VER. 682.

Thus long succeeding Critics, etc.]

The next pe|riod in which the true Critic (he tells us) appear'd, was at the revival and restoration of letters in the West. This occasions his giving a short history [from ℣ 683 to 710.] of the decline

and re-establishment of arts and sciences in Italy. He shews that they both fell under the same enemy, despotic power; and that when both had made some little efforts to restore themselves, they were soon quite overwhelmed by a second deluge of another kind, Superstition; and a calm of Dulness finish'd upon Rome and Letters what the rage of Barbarism had begun:

A second deluge learning thus o'er-run, And the Monk finish'd what the Goth begun.

When things had been long in this condition, and all recovery now appear'd desperate, it was a CRITIC, our author shews us for the honour of the Art he here teaches, who at length broke the charm of Dulness, dissipated the inchantment, and, like an|other Hercules, drove those cowl'd and hooded serpents from the Hesperian tree of knowledge, which they had so long guarded from human approach.

VER. 694.

At length Erasmus, etc.]

Nothing can be more artful than the application of this example; or more happy than the turn of compliment to this admirable man. To throw glory quite round his illustrious character, he makes it to be (as in fact it really was) by his assistance chiefly, that Leo was ena|bled to restore letters and the fine arts, in his Pontificate.

VER. 698.

But see each Muse in Leo's golden days]

This pre|sents us with the second period in which the true Critic appear'd; of whom he has given us a perfect idea in the single example of Marcus Hieronymus Vida: For his subject being poetical Criti|cism, for the use principally of a critical Poet; his example is an eminent poetical Critic, who had had written of that Art in verse.

VER. 710.

But soon by impious arms, etc.]

This brings us to the third period, after learning had still travelled farther West; when the arms of the Emperor, in the sack of Rome by the duke of Bourbon, had driven it out of Italy, and forced it to pass the Mountains—The Examples he gives in this period, are of Boileau in France, and of the Lord Roscommon and the duke of Buckingham in England: And these were all Poets, as well as Critics in verse. It is true, the last instance is of one who was no eminent poet, the late Mr. Walsh. This small deviation might be well over-looked, was it only for its being a pious office to the memory of his friend: But it may be farther justified as it was an homage paid in particular to the MORALS of the Critic, no|thing being more amiable than the character here drawn of this excellent person. He being our Author's Judge and Censor, as

well as Friend, it gives him a graceful opportunity to add himself to the number of the later Critics; and with a character of him|self, sustained by that modesty and dignity which it is so difficult to make consistent, this performance concludes.

I have given a short and plain account of the Essay on Criti|cism, concerning which I have but one thing more to acquaint the reader: That when he considers the Regularity of the plan, the masterly Conduct of each part, the penetration into Nature, and the compass of Learning, so conspicuous throughout, he should at the same time know, it was the work of an Author who had not attained the twentieth year of his age.

NOTES.

VER. 15.

Let such teach others]

Qui scribit artificiose, ab aliis commode scripta facile intelligere poterit. Cic. ad Herenn. lib. 4.

De pictore, sculptore, fictore, nisi artifex, judicare non po|test. Pliny.

P.

VER. 20.

Most have the seeds]

Omnes tacito quodam sensu, sine ulla arte, aut ratione, quae sint in artibus ac rationibus recta et prava dijudicant. Cic. de Orat. lib. iii.

P.

VER. 25.

So by false learning]

Plus sine doctrina prudentia, quam sine prudentia valet doctrina. Quint.

P.

VER. 26, 27.

Some are bewilder'd, etc.]

This thought is taken from Lord Rochester, but more decently expressed:

God never made a Coxcomb worth a groat, We owe that name to industry and arts.

VER. 28.

In search of wit these lose their common sense,]

This observation is extremely just. Search of wit is not only the oc|casion but the efficient cause of loss of common sense. For wit con|sisting in chusing out, and setting together, such ideas from whose likenesses pleasant pictures are made in the fancy; the Judgment, thro' an habitual search of Wit, loses by degrees its fa|culty of seeing the true relations of things; in which consists the exercise of common sense.

VER. 32.

All fools have still an itching to deride,And fain would be upon the laughing side.]

The sentiment is just. And if Hobbes's account of laughter be true, that it arises from pride, we see the reason of it. The expression too is fine, it alludes to the condition of Idiots and natural-fools who are always on the grin.

VER. 43.

Their generation's so equivocal:]

It is sufficient that a principle of philosophy has been generally received, whether it be true or false, to justify a poet's use of it to set off his wit. But to recommend his argument he should be cautious how he uses any but the true. For falsehood, when it is set too near, will tarnish the truth he would recommend. Besides, the ana|logy between natural and moral truth makes the principles of true Philosophy the fittest for his use. Our Poet has been care|ful in observing this rule.

VER. 51.

And mark that point where sense and dullness meet.]

Besides the peculiar sense explained above in the comment, the words have still a more general meaning, and caution us against going on, when our Ideas begin to grow obscure; as we are

apt to do, tho' that obscurity is a monition that we should leave off; for it arises either thro' our small acquaintance with the subject, or the incomprehensibility of its nature. In which circumstances a genius will always write as heavily as a dunce. An observation well worth the attention of all profound writers.

VER. 56.

Thus in the soul while memory prevails, The solid pow'r of understanding fails: Where beams of warm imagination play, The memory's soft sigures melt away.]

These observations are collected from an intimate knowledge of human nature. The cause of that languor and heaviness in the understanding, which is almost inseparable from a very strong and tenacious memory, seems to be a want of the proper exercise and activity of that power; the understanding being rather passive while the memory is cultivating. As to the other ap|pearance,

the decay of memory by the vigorous exercise of Fan|cy, the poet himself seems to have intimated the cause of it in the epithet he has given to the Imagination. For if, according to the Atomic Philosophy, the memory of things be preserved in a chain of ideas, produced by the animal spirits moving in continued trains; the force and rapidity of the Imagination per|petually breaking and dissipating the links of this chain by form|ing new associations, must necessarily weaken and disorder the recollective faculty.

VER. 67.

Would all but stoop to what they understand.]

The ex|pression is delicate, and implies what is very true, that most men think it a degradation of their genius to employ it in cultivating what lies level to their comprehension, but had rather exercise their ambition in subduing what is placed above it.

VER. 88.

Those Rules of old, etc.]

Cicero has, best of any one I know, explained what that is which reduces the wild and scattered parts of human knowledge into arts.—

Nihil est quod ad artem redigi possit, nisi ille prius, qui illa tenet, quorum artem instituere vult, habeat illam scientiam, ut ex iis rebus, quarum ars nondum sit, artem efficere possit.—Omnia fere, quae sunt conclusa nunc artibus, dispersa et dissipata quondam fuerunt, ut in Musicis, etc. Adhibita est igitur ars quaedam extrinsecus ex alio genere quodam, quod sibi totum PHILOSOPHI assumunt, quae rem dissolutam divul|samque conglutinaret, et ratione quadam constringeret. De Orat. l. i. c. 41, 2.

VER. 98.

Just precepts]

Nec enim artibus editis factum est ut argumenta inveniremus, sed dicta sunt omnia antequam proe|ciperentur; mox ea scriptores observata et collecta ediderunt. Quintil.

P.

VER. 112.

Some on the leaves—Some drily plain.]

The first, the Apes of those Italian Critics, who at the restoration of letters

having found the classic writers miserably mangled by the hands of monkish Librarians, very commendably employed their pains and talents in restoring them to their native purity. The second, the plagiaries from the French, who had made some ad|mirable Commentaries on the ancient critics. But that acumen and taste, which separately constitute the distinct value of those two species of foreign Criticism, make no part of the character of these paltry mimics at home, described by our Poet in the following lines,

These leave the sense, their learning to display, And those explain the meaning quite away.

Which species is the least hurtful, the Poet has enabled us to determine in the lines with which he opens his poem,

But of the two less dang'rous is th'offence To tire our patience than mislead our sense.

From whence we conclude, that the reverend Mr. Upton was much more innocently employed when he quibbled upon Epicte|tus, than when he commented upon Shakespear.

VER. 130.

When first young Maro etc.]

Virg. Eclog. vi.Cum canerem reges et proelia, Cynthius aurem Vellit.

It is a tradition preserved by Servius, that Virgil began with writing a poem of the Alban and Roman affairs; which he found above his years, and descended first to imitate Theocritus on rural subjects, and afterwards to copy Homer in Heroic poetry. P.

VER. 146.

If, where the rules etc.]

Neque enim rogationibus plebisve scitis sancta sunt ista Praecepta, sed hoc, quicquid est, Uti|litas excogitavit. Non negabo autem sic utile esse plerumque; verum si eadem illa nobis aliud suadebit Utilitas, hanc, relictis magistro|rum autoritatibus, sequemur. Quintil. lib. ii. cap. 13.

P.

VER. 150.

Thus Pegasus, &c.]

We have observed how the precepts for writing and judging are interwoven throughout the whole work. He first describes the sublime slight of a Poet, soaring above all vulgar bounds, to snatch a grace directly, which lies beyond the reach of a common adventurer. And af|terwards, the effect of that grace upon the true Critic: whom it penetrates with an equal rapidity; going the nearest way to his heart, without passing through his Judgment. By which is not meant that it could not stand the test of Judgment; but that, it being a beauty uncommon, and above rule, and the Judgment habituated to determine only by rule, it makes its direct application to the Heart; which once gained, soon opens and enlarges the Judgment, whose concurrence (it being now set above forms) is easily procured. That this is the poet's sub|lime conception appears from the concluding words:

and all its end at once attains.

For Poetry doth not attain all its end, till it hath gained the Judgment as well as Heart.

VER. 175.

A prudent chief etc.]

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉—Dion. Hal. De struct. orat.

VER. 180.

Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.]

Mo|deste, et circumspecto judicio de tantis viris pronunciandum est, ne quod (quod plerisque accidit) damnent quod non intelligunt. Ac si necesse est in alteram errare partem, omnia corum legentibus pla|cere, quam multa displicere maluerim. Quint.

P.

VER. 183.

Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage,Destructive war, and all-involving age.]

The Poet here alludes to the four great causes of the ravage amongst ancient writings: The destruction of the Alexandrine and Palatine libraries by fire; the fiercer rage of Zoilus and Maevius and their followers against Wit; the irruption of the Barbarians into the

empire; and the long reign of Ignorance and Superstition in the cloisters.

VER. 189.

Hail, Bards triumphant!]

There is a pleasantry in this title, which alludes to the state of warfare that all true Genius must undergo while here upon earth.

VER. 196.

The last]

This word, spoken in his early youth, as it were by chance, seems to have been ominous.

VER. 209.

Pride where Wit fails steps in to our defence,And fills up all the mighty void of sense.]

A very sensible french wri|ter makes the following remark on this species of pride.

"Un homme qui sçait plusieurs Langues, qui entend les Auteurs

Grecs et Latins, qui s'eleve même jusqu' à la dignité de SCHO|LIASTE; si cet homme venoit à peser son véritable mérite, il trouveroit souvent qu'il se réduit à avoir eu des yeux et de la mémoire, il se garderoit bien de donner le nom respectable de science à une érudition sans lumiere. Il y a une grande difference entre s'enrichir des mots ou des choses, entre alle|guer des autoritez ou des raisons. Si un homme pouvoit se surprendre à n' avoir que cette sorte de mérite, il en rougi|roit plûtôt que d'en être vain."

VER. 217.

There shallow draughts, etc.]

The thought was taken from Lord Verulam, who applies it to more serious en|quiries.

VER. 233.

A perfect Judge, etc.]

Diligenter legendum est, ac paene ad scribendi sollicitudinem: Nec per partes modo scrutanda sunt emnia, sed perlectus liber utique ex integro resumendus. Quin▪

VER. 235.

Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to find,Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;]

The second line, in apologizing for those faults which the first says should be overlooked, gives the reason of the precept. For when a writer's attention is fixed on a general view of Nature, and his imagination warm'd with the contemplation of great ideas, it can hardly be but that there must be small irregularities in the disposition both of matter and style, because the avoiding these requires a coolness of recollection, which a writer so bu|sied is not master of.

VER. 248.

The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!]

The Pantheon. There is something very Gothic in the taste and judgment of a learned man, who despises this master-piece of Art for those very qualities which deserve our admiration.—

"Nous esmerveillons comme l'on fait si grand cas de ce Panthe|on, veu que son edifice n'est de si grande industrie comme l'on crie: car chaque petit Masson peut bien concevoir la ma|niere de sa façon tout en un instant car estant la base si mas|sive, et les murailles si espoisses, ne nous a semblé difficile d'y

adjouster la voute à claire voye."

Pierre Belon's Observations, etc. The nature of the Gothic structures apparently led him into this mistake of the Architectonic art in general; that the excellency of it consisted in raising the greatest weight on the least assignable support, so that the edifice should have strength without the appearance of it, in order to excite admiration. But to a judicious eye it would have a contrary effect, the Ap|pearance (as our poet expresses it) of a monstrous height, or breadth, or length. Indeed did the just proportions in regular Architec|ture take off from the grandeur of a building, by all the single parts coming united to the eye, as this learned traveller seems to insinuate, it would be a reasonable objection to those rules on which this Master-piece of Art was constructed. But it is not so. The Poet tells us,

The Whole at once is BOLD and regular.

VER. 261.

verbal Critic]

Is not here used in its common signification, of one who retails the sense of single words; but of one who deals in large cargo's of them without any sense at all.

VER. 267.

Once on a time, etc.]

This tale is so very apposite, that one would naturally take it to be of the Poet's own inven|tion; and so much in the spirit of Cervantes, that one might easily mistake it for one of the chief strokes of that incomparable Satire. But, in truth, it is neither this nor that; but a story taken by our Author from the spurious Don Quixote; which shews how proper an use may be made of General reading, when if there is but one good thing in a book (as in that wretch|ed performance there scarce was more) it may be pick'd out, and employ'd to an excellent purpose.

VER. 285.

Thus Critics of less judgment than caprice,Curious not knowing, not exact but nice.]

In these two lines the poet finely describes the way in which bad writers are wont to imitate the qualities of good ones. As true Judgment

generally draws men out of popular opinions, so he who cannot get from the croud by the assistance of this guide, willingly follows Caprice, which will be sure to lead him into singularities. Again, true Knowledge is the art of treasuring up only that which, from its use in life, is worthy of being lodged in the memory. But Curiosity consists in a vain attention to every thing out of the way, and which, for its uselessness the world least regards. Lastly, Exactness is the just proportion of parts to one another, and their harmony in a whole: But he who has not extent of capacity for the exercise of this quality, contents himself with Nicety, which is a busying one's self about points and syllables.

VER. 297.

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd, etc.]

This definition is very exact. Mr. Locke had defined Wit to consist in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together, with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or congruity, whereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy. But that great Philosopher, in separating Wit from

Judgment, as he does in this place, has given us (and he could therefore gives us no other) only an account of Wit in general: In which false Wit, tho' not every species of it, is included. A striking Image therefore of Nature is, as Mr. Locke observes, certainly Wit: But this image may strike on several other ac|counts, as well as for its truth and amiableness; and the Philo|sopher has explained the manner how. But it never becomes that Wit which is the ornament of true Poesy, whose end is to represent Nature, but when it dresses that Nature to advantage, and presents her to us in the clearest and most amiable light. And to know when the Fancy has done its office truly, the poet subjoins this admirable Test, viz. When we perceive that it

gives us back the image of our mind. When it does that, we may be sure it plays no tricks with us: For this image is the creature of the Judgment; and whenever Wit corresponds with Judgment, we may safely pronounce it to be true.

Naturam intueamur, hanc sequamur: id facillime accipiunt ani|mi quod agnoscunt. Quintil. lib. viii. c. 3.

VER. 311.

False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, etc.]

This simile is beautiful. For the false colouring, given to objects by the prismatic glass, is owing to its untwisting, by its obliquities, those threads of light, which Nature had put together in order to spread over its works an ingenuous and simple candor, that

should not hide, but only heighten the native complexion of the objects. And false Eloquence is nothing else but the straining and divaricating the parts of true expression; and then daubing them over with what the Rhetoricians very properly term, CO|LOURS; in lieu of that candid light, now lost, which was reflected from them in their natural state while sincere and en|tire.

VER. 324.

Some by old words, etc.]

Abolita et abrogata reti|nere, insolentiae cujusdam est, et frivolae in parvis jactantiae. Quintil. lib. i. c. 6.

P.

Opus est ut verba à vetustate repetita neque crebra sint, neque manifesta, quia nil est adiosius affectatione, nec utique ab ultimis repetita temporibus. Oratio cujus summa virtus est perspicuitas, quam sit vitiosa, si egeat interprete? Ergo ut novorum optima erunt maxime vetera, ita veterum maxime nova. Idem.

P.

VER. 328.

—unlucky as Fungoso etc.]

See Ben Johnson's Every Man in his Humour. P.

VER. 337.

But most by Numbers, etc.]

Quis populi sermo est? quis enim? nisi carmina molli Nunc demum numero fiuere, ut per laeve severos Effundat junctura ungues: scit tendere versum Non secus ac si oculo rubricam dirigat uno. Pers. Sat. i.

P.

VER. 345.

Tho' oft the ear, etc.]

Fugiemus crebras vocalium concursiones, quae vastam atque hiantem orationem readunt. Cic. ad Heren. lib. iv. Vide etiam Quintil. lib. ix. c. 4.

P.

VER. 364.

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence;The sound must seem an Echo to the sense:]

The judi|cious introduction of this precept is remarkable. The Poets, and even some of the best of them, have been so fond of the beauty arising from this trivial precept, that, in their prac|tice,

they have violated the very End of it, which is the en|crease of harmony; and, so they could but raise an Echo, did not care whose ears they offended by its dissonance. To remedy this abuse therefore, the poet, by the introductory line, would infinuate, that Harmony is always presupposed as observed; tho' it may and ought to be perpetually varied, so as to produce the effect here recommended.

VER. 365.

The sound must seem an Echo to the sense,]

Lord Roscommon says,

The sound is still a comment to the sense.

They are both well expressed: only this supposes the sense to be assisted by the sound; that, the sound assisted by the sense.

VER. 374.

Hear how Timotheus, etc.]

See Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Music; an Ode by Mr. Dryden. P.

VER. 402.

Which from the first etc.]

Genius is the same in all ages; but its fruits are various; and more or less excellent as they are checked or matured by the influence of Government or Religion upon them. Hence in some parts of Literature the Ancients excell; in others, the modern; just as those accidental circumstances influenced them.

VER. 444.

Scotists and Thomists]

These were two parties amongst the schoolmen, headed by Duns Scotus and Thomas Aquinas, of different opinions, and from that difference deno|minated Realists and Nominalists; they were perpetually disput|ing on the immaculate conception, and on subjects of the like im|portance.

VER. 444.

Scotists]

So denominated from Johannes Duns Scotus. He suffered a miserable reverse of fortune at Oxford in the time of Henry VIII. That grave Antiquary Mr. An|tony Wood sadly laments the deformation, as he calls it, of that University by the King's Commissioners; and even records the blasphemous speeches of one of them in his own Words—We have set DUNCE in Boccardo, with all his blind Glossers, fast nailed up upon posts in all common houses of easement. Upon which our venerable Antiquary thus exclaims:

"If so be, the commissioners had such disrespect for that most famous Au|thor J. Duns, who was so much admired by our predecessors, and SO DIFFICULT TO BE UNDERSTOOD, that the Doctors of those times, namely Dr. William Roper, Dr. John Kynton, Dr. William Mowse, etc. professed, that, in twenty eight years study, they could not understand him rightly, What then had they for others of inferior note?"

—What indeed! But then, If so be, that most famous J. Duns was so difficult to be under|stood

(for that this is a most classical proof of his great value, who doubts?) I should conceive our good old Antiquary to be a little mistaken. And that the nailing up this Proteus was done by the Commissioners in honour of the most famous Duns: There being no other way of catching the sense of so slippery an Author, who had eluded the pursuit of three of their most renowned Doctors, in full cry after him, for twenty eight years together. And this Boccardo in which he was confined, seemed very proper for the purpose; it being observed, that men are never more serious and thoughtful than in that place. SCRIBL.

Ibid.

Thomists,]

From Thomas Aquinas, a truly great Genius, who was, in those blind ages, the same in Theology that Friar Bacon was in natural Philosophy: less happy than our Coun|tryman in this, that he soon became surrounded with a number of dark Glossers, who never left him till they had extinguished the radiance of that light which had pierced thro' the thickest night of Monkery, the thirteenth century, when the Waldenses were suppressed, and Wicklisse not yet risen.

VER. 445.

Duck-lane]

A place where old and second-hand books were sold formerly, near Smithfield. P.

VER. 450.

And Authors think their reputation safe,Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.]

This is a just and ad|mirable satire on those we call, Authors in fashion; for they are

the men who get the laugh on their side. He shews, on how pi|tiful a basis their reputation stands, the changeling disposition of fools to laugh; who are always carried away with the last joke.

VER. 463.

Milbourn]

The Rev. Mr. Luke Milbourn. Den|nis served Mr. Pope in the same office. And indeed the attend|ance of these slaves is necessary to render the triumphs of a great Genius complete. They are of all times, and on all oc|casions. Sir Walter Raleigh had Alexander Ross, Chilling|worth had his Cheynel, and Locke his EDWARDS: Not Fun|goso of Lincoln's-Inn. Mr. Locke's Edwards was a Divine of parts and learning, this Edwards is a critic with neither. Yet

(as Mr. Pope says of Luke Milbourn) the fairest of all critics; for having written against the Editor's remarks on Shakespear, be did him justice in printing at the same time his own.

VER 468

For envy'd Wit, like Sol eclips'd, etc.]

This simi|litude implies a fact too often verified; and of which we need not seek abroad for examples. It is, that frequently those very Authors, who have at first done all they could to obscure and depress a rising genius, have at length, in order to keep themselves

in some little credit, been reduced to borrow from him, imitate his manner, and reflect what they could of his splendor. Nor hath the poet been less artful, to insinuate also what is sometimes the cause. A youthful genius, like the Sun rising towards the Meridian, displays too strong and powerful beams for the dirty genius of inferior writers, which occasions their gathering, con|densing, and blackening. But as he descends from the Meridian (the time when the Sun gives its gilding to the surrounding clouds) his rays grow milder, his heat more benign, and then

—ev'n those Clouds at last adorn its way, Reflect new glories, and augment the day.

VER. 484.

So when the faithful pencil, etc.]

This similitude, in which the poet discovers (as he always does on this subject) real science in the thing spoken of, has still a more peculiar beauty, as at the same time that it confesses the just superiority of antient writings, it insinuates one advantage the modern have above them; which is this, that in these, our intimate acquaint|ance with the occasion of writing, and the manners described, lets us into all those living and striking graces which may be well compared to that perfection of imitation only given by colouring: While the ravage of Time amongst the monuments of former ages, hath left us but the gross substance of ancient wit, so much of the form and matter of body only as may be expressed in brass or marble.

VER. 507.

—by Knaves undone!]

By which the Poet would insinuate, a common but shameful truth, That Men in power, if they got into it by illiberal arts, generally left Wit and Science to starve.

VER. 546.

Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;]

The seeds of this religious evil, as well as of the political that encouraged it (for all Revolutions are in themselves evils, tho' brought about thro' necessity, for the removal of greater) were sown in the preceding fat age of pleasure. The mischiefs done, during Cromwell's usurpation, by fanaticism, inflamed by erroneous and absurd notions of the doctrine of grace and satisfaction, made the loyal Latitudinarian divines (as they were called) at the Restoration, go so far into the other extreme of resolving all Christianity into Morality, as to afford an easy introduction to Socinianism: Which in that reign (founded on the principles of Liberty) men had full opportunity of propagating.

VER. 547. The author has omitted two lines which stood here, as containing a National Reflection, which in his stricter judgment he could not but disapprove on any People whatever. P.

VER. 562.

For 'tis but half a Judge's task, to know.]

The Cri|tic acts in two capacities, of Assessor and of Judge: in the first, science alone is sufficient; but the other requires morals like|wise.

VER. 587.

And stares, tremendous, etc.]

This picture was taken to himself by John Dennis, a furious old Critic by profession, who, upon no other provocation, wrote against this Essay and its author, in a manner perfectly lunatic: For, as to the men|tion made of him in ℣ 270. he took it as a Compliment, and said it was treacherously meant to cause him to overlook this Abuse of his Person. P.

VER. 620.

Garth did not write, etc.]

A common slander at that time in prejudice of that deserving author. Our Poet did him this justice, when that slander most prevail'd; and it is now (perhaps the sooner for this very verse) dead and forgot|ten. P.

VER. 632.

But where's the man, etc.]

The Poet, by his man|ner of asking after this Character, and telling us, when he had described it, that such once were Critics, does not encourage us to search for it in modern writers. And indeed the discovery of him, if it could be made, would be but an invidious busi|ness. I will venture no farther than to name the piece of Criti|cism in which these marks may be found. It is intitled, Q. Hor. Fl. Ars Poetica, with an English Commentary and Notes.

VER. 643.

with REASON on his side?]

Not only on his side, but actually exercised in his service. That Critic makes but a mean figure, who, when he has found out the excellencies of his author, contents himself in offering them to the world, with only empty exclamations on their beauties. His office is to ex|plain the nature of those beauties, shew from whence they arise, and what effects they produce; or, in the better and fuller ex|pression of the Poet,

To teach the world with Reason to admire.

VER. 653.

Who conquer'd Nature, should preside o'er Wit.]

By this is not meant physical Nature, but moral. The force of the observation consists in our understanding it in this sense. For the Poet not only uses the word Nature for human nature, throughout this poem; but also, where, in the beginning of it, he lays down the principles of the arts he treats of, he makes the knowledge of human nature the foundation of all Criticism and Poetry. Nor is the observation less true than apposite. For, Aristotle's natural enquiries were superficial, and ill made, tho' extensive: But his logical and moral works are incomparable. In these he has unfolded the human mind, and laid open all the recesses of the heart and understanding; and by his Catego|ries, not only conquered Nature, but kept her in tenfold chains: Not as Dulness kept the Muses, in the Dunciad, to silence them; but as Aristaeus held Proteus in Virgil, to deliver Ora|cles.

VER. 666.

See Dyonysius]

Of Halicarnassus. P.

VER. 695.

The glory of the Priesthood and the shame!]

Our author elsewhere lets us know what he esteems to be the glory of the Priesthood as well as of a Christian in general, where, comparing himself to Erasmus, he says,

In MODERATION placing all my glory,

and consequently, what he esteems to be the shame of it. The whole of this character belong'd most eminently and almost solely to Erasmus: For the other Reformers, such as Luther, Calvin, and their followers, understood so little in what true Christian Liberty consisted, that they carried with them, into the reformed Churches that very spirit of persecution, which had driven them from the church of Rome.

VER. 724.

Such was the Muse—]

Essay on Poetry by the Duke of Buckingham. Our Poet is not the only one of his time

who complimented this Essay, and its noble Author. Mr. Dry|den had done it very largely in the Dedication to his translation of the Aeneid; and Dr. Garth in the first Edition of his Dis|pensary says,

The Tyber now no courtly Gallus sees, But smiling Thames enjoys his Normanbys.

Tho' afterwards omitted, when parties were carried so high in the reign of Queen Anne, as to allow no commendation to an opposite in Politics. The Duke was all his life a steady adhe|rent to the Church of England-Party, yet an enemy to the ex|travagant measures of the Court in the reign of Charles II. On which account after having strongly patronized Mr. Dryden, a coolness succeeded between them on that poet's absolute attach|ment to the Court, which carried him some lengths beyond what the Duke could approve of. This Nobleman's true cha|racter had been very well marked by Mr. Dryden before,

the Muse's friend, Himself a Muse. In Sanadrin's debate True to his prince, but not a slave of state. Abs. and Achit.

Our Author was more happy, he was honour'd very young with his friendship, and it continued till his death in all the circum|stances of a familiar esteem. P.

VARIATIONS.

Between ℣ 25 and 26 were these lines, since omitted by the author:

Many are spoil'd by that pedantic throng, Who with great pains teach youth to reason wrong. Tutors, like Virtuoso's, oft inclin'd By strange transfusion to improve the mind, Draw off the sense we have, to pour in new; Which yet, with all their skill, they ne'er could do.

P.

VER. 80.

There are whom Heav'n has blest with store of wit, Yet want as much again to manage it.

VER. 123.

Cavil you may, but never criticize.]

The author after this verse originally inserted the following, which he has however omitted in all the editions:

Zoilus, had these been known, without a name Had dy'd, and Perault ne'er been damn'd to fame; The sense of sound Antiquity had reign'd, And sacred Homer yet been unprophan'd. None e'er had thought his comprehensive mind To modern customs, modern rules confin'd; Who for all ages writ, and all mankind.

P.

VER. 130.

When first young Maro sung of Kings and Wars, Ere warning Phoebus touch'd his trembling ears,

VER. 225.

So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps to try, Fill'd with ideas of fair Italy, The Traveller beholds with chearful eyes The less'ning vales, and seems to tread the skies.

VER. 447. Between this and ℣ 448.

The rhyming Clowns that gladded Shakespear's age, No more with crambo entertain the stage. Who now in Anagrams their Patron praise, Or sing their Mistress in Acrostic lays? Ev'n pulpits pleas'd with merry puns of yore; Now all are banish'd to the Hibernian shore! Thus leaving what was natural and fit, The current folly prov'd their ready wit; And authors thought their reputation safe, Which liv'd as long as fools were pleas'd to laugh.

VER. 624. Between this and ℣ 625.

In vain you shrug and sweat, and strive to fly; These know no Manners but of Poetry. They'll stop a hungry Chaplain in his grace, To treat of Unities of time and place.

Between ℣ 647 and 648. I found the following lines, since supprest by the author:

That bold Columbus of the realms of wit, Whose first discov'ry's not exceeded yet. Led by the light of the Maeonian Star, He steer'd securely, and discover'd far. He, when all Nature was subdu'd before, Like his great Pupil, sigh'd, and long'd for more: Fancy's wild regions yet unvanquish'd lay, A boundless empire, and that own'd no sway. Poets, etc.

Between ℣ 691 and 692. the author omitted these two,

Vain Wits and Critics were no more allow'd, When none but Saints had licence to be proud.

P.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 346.

While expletives their feeble aid do join,And ten tow words oft creep in one dull line.]

From Dryden.

"He creeps along with ten little words in every line, and helps out his numbers with [for] [to] and [unto] and all the pretty expletives he can find, while the sense is left half tired behind it." Essay on Dram. Poetry.

VER. 366.

Soft is the strain, etc.]

Tum si laeta canunt, etc. Vida Poet. l. iii. ℣ 403.

VER. 368.

But when loud surges, etc.]

Tum longe sale saxa sonant, etc. Vida ib. 388.

VER. 370.

When Ajax strives, etc.]

Atque ideo si quid geritur molimine magno, etc. Vida ib. 417.

VER. 372.

Not so, when swift Camilla, etc.]

At mora si suerit damno, properare jubebo, etc. Vida ib. 420.

VER. 708.

As next in place to Mantua,]

Alluding to

Mantua vae miserae nimium vicina Cremonae. Virg.