Disdain'd to be beholden to the Greeks,
And found fit subjects for her verse at home.
Nor should we be less famous for our wit
Than for the force of our victorious arms;
But that the time and care that are requir'd
To overlook, and file, and polish well,
Fright poets from that necessary toil.
Democritus was so in love with wit, And some men's natural impulse to write, That he despis'd the help of art and rules, And thought none poets, till their brains were And this hath so intoxicated some,
That (to appear incorrigibly mad)
They cleanliness and company renounce
For lunacy beyond the cure of art;
With a long beard, and ten long dirty nails,
Pass current for Apollo's livery.
O! my unhappy stars! if in the spring
Some physic had not cur'd me of the spleen,
None would have writ with more success than I;
But I must rest contented as I am,
And only serve to whet that wit in you,
To which I willingly resign my claim.
Yet, without writing, I may teach to write,
Tell what the duty of a poet is,
Wherein his wealth and ornaments consist,
And how he may be form'd, and how im
What fit, what not, what excellent or ill.
Sound judgment is the ground of writing well;
And when Philosophy directs your choice
To proper subjects rightly understood,
Words from your pen will naturally flow;
He only gives the proper characters
Who knows the duty of all ranks of men,—
And what we owe our country, parents, friends,
How judges and how senators should act,‐
And what becomes a general to do:
Those are the likest copies which are drawn
By the original of human life.
Sometimes, in rough and undigested plays,
We meet with such a lucky character
As, being humor'd right, and well pursu'd,
Succeeds much better than the shallow verse
And chiming trifles of more studious pens.
Greece had a genius, Greece had eloquence,
For her ambition and her end was fame.
Our Roman youth is diligently taught
The deep mysterious art of growing rich,
And the first words that children learn to speak,
Are of the value of the names of coin.
Can a penurious wretch, that with his milk
Hath suck'd the basest drugs of usury,
Pretend to gen' rous and heroic thoughts?
Can rust and avarice write lasting lines?
But you, brave youth! wise Numa's worthy heir,
Remember of what weight your judgment is,
And never venture to commend a book
That hath not pass'd all judges and all tests.
A poet should instruct, or please, or both;
Let all your precepts be succinct and clear,
That ready wits may comprehend them soon,
And faithful memories retain them long:
All superfluities are soon forgot.
Never be so conceited of your parts
To think, you may persuade us what you please, Or venture to bring in a child alive,
That Cannibals have murder'd and devour'd. 380Old age explodes all but morality;
Austerity offends aspiring youths;
But he that joins instruction with delight,-Profit with pleasure,-carries all the votes: These, are the volumes that enrich the shops,-These, pass with admiration through the world, And bring their author to eternal fame.
Be not too rigidly censorious;
A string may jar in the best master's hand,
And the most skilful archer miss his aim:
But in a poem elegantly writ,
I would not quarrel with a slight mistake,
Such as our nature's frailty may excuse;
But he that hath been often told his fault,
And still persists, is as impertinent
As a musician that will always play,
And yet is always out at the same note:
When such a positive abandon'd fop
(Among his numerous absurdities)
Stumbles upon some tolerable line,
Į fret to see them in such company,
But in long works sleep will sometimes surprise: Homer himself hath been observ'd to nod.
Poems, like pictures, are of diff'rent sorts,
Some better at a distance, others near;
Some love the dark, some chuse the clearest light,
And boldly challenge the most piercing eye;
Some please for once, some will for ever please.
But, Piso (though your knowledge of the
world,
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Join'd with your father's precepts, make you wise)
Remember this, as an important truth:
Some things admit of mediocrity;
A counsellor or pleader at the bar
May want Messala's pow'rful eloquence,
Or be less read than deep Cassellius;
Yet this indiff'rent lawyer is esteem'd;
But no authority of Gods nor men
Allow of any mean in poesy.
As an ill concert and a coarse perfume
Disgrace the delicacy of a feast,
And might with more discretion have been spar'd;
So poesy, whose end is to delight,
Admits of no degrees, but must be still
Sublimely good or despicably ill.
In other things men have some reason left,
And one that cannot dance or fence or run,
Despairing of success, forbears to try;
But all (without consideration) write,
Some thinking that th' omnipotence of wealth 430
Can turn them into poets when they please.
But, Piso! you are of too quick a sight
Not to discern which way your talent lies,
Or vainly with your genius to contend;
Yet, if it ever be your fate to write,
Let your productions pass the strictest hands,
Mine and your father's, and not see the light
Till time and care have ripen'd ev'ry line.
What you keep by you, you may change and
But words once spoke can never he recall'd. 440
Orpheus, inspir'd by more than human pow'r,
Did not, as poets feign, tame savage beasts,
But men as lawless and as wild as they,
And first dissuaded them from rage and blood.
Thus, when Amphion built the Theban wall,
They feign'd the stones obey'd his magic lute.
Poets, the first instructors of mankind,
Brought all things to their proper native use;
Some they appropriated to the Gods,
And some to public, some to private ends : 450
Promiscuous love by marriage was restrain'd,
Cities were built, and useful laws were made:
So great was the divinity of verse,
And such observance to a poet paid.
Then Homer's and Tyrtæus' martial Muse,
Waken'd the world, and sounded loud alarms.
To verse we owe the sacred oracles
And our best precepts of morality:
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