Reject that vulgar error (which appears
So fair) of making perfect characters;

1

There's no fuch thing in nature; and you'll draw
A faultlefs monfter which the world ne'er faw.
Some faults must be, that his misfortunes drew,
But fuch as may deferve compaffion too.
Befides the main defign compos'd with art,
Each moving scene must be a plot apart;
Contrive each little turn, mark ev'ry place,
As painters first chalk out the future face :
Yet be not fondly your own flave for this,
But change hereafter what
appears amifs.

Think not fo much where fhining thoughts to place,
As what a man would say in such a case:
Neither in comedy will this fuffice,

The player too must be before your eyes;
And, tho' 'tis drudgery to stoop so low,
To him you must your fecret meaning fhow,
Expofe no fingle fop, but lay the load
More equally, and fpread the folly broad;
Mere coxcombs are too obvious; oft we fee
A fool derided by as bad as he :
Hawks fly at nobler game; in this low way,
A very owl may prove a bird of prey.
Small poets thus will one poor fop devour,
But to collect, like bees, from ev'ry flow'r,
Ingredients to compofe that precious juice,
Which ferves the world for pleasure and for ufe,
In fpite of faction this would favour gets

But Falstaff ftands inimitable yet.

Another fault which often may befall,
Is, when the wit of fome great poet fhall
So overflow, that is, be none at all;
That ev'n his fools fpeak fenfe, as if poffeft,
And each by inspiration breaks his jeft.
If once the juftnefs of each part be loft,
Well we may laugh, but at the poet's coft,
That filly thing men call fheer-wit avoid,
With which our age fo naufeoufly is cloy'd;
Humour is all; wit fhould be only brought
To turn agreeably fome proper thought.

But fince the poets we of late have known,
Shine in no drefs fo much as in their own,
The better by example to convince,

Caft but a view on this wrong fide of fenfe.
First, a Soliloquy is calmly made,

Where ev'ry reafon is exactly weigh'd;

Which once perform'd, moft opportunely comes
Some hero frighted at the noife of drums;
For her sweet fake, whom at firft fight he loves,
And all in metaphor his paffion proves :
But fome fad accident, tho' yet unknown,
Parting this pair, to leave the fwain alone;
He strait grows jealous, tho' we know not why;
Then, to oblige his rival, needs will die :
But firft he makes a fpeech, wherein he tells
The abfent nymph how much his flame excels;
And yet bequeaths her generously now,

To that lov'd rival whom he does not know!

Who ftrait appears; but who can fate withstand? Too late, alas! to hold his hafty hand,

That juft has giv'n himself the cruel ftroke!
At which his very rival's heart is broke:

He, more to his new friend than mistress kind,
Moft fadly mourns at being left behind,

Of fuch a death prefers the pleasing charms

To love, and living in a lady's arms.

What shameful and what monstrous things are these?
And then they rail at thofe they cannot pleafe;
Conclude us only partial to the dead,

And grudge the fign of old Ben Johnson's head;
When the intrinfic value of the ftage

Can fcarce be judg'd but by a following age:
For dances, flutes, Italian fongs, and rhime,
May keep up finking nonfenfe for a time;
But that muft fail, which now fo much o'er-rules,
And fenfe no longer will fubmit to fools.

By painful fteps at last we labour up
Parnaffus' hill, on whofe bright airy top,
The Epick poets fo divinely fhow,
And with juft pride behold the rest below.
Heroic poems have a juft pretence

To be the utmoft ftretch of human fenfe;

A work of fuch ineftimable worth,

There are but two the world has yet brought forth ! Homer and Virgil! with what facred awe,

Do thofe mere founds the world's attention draw!
Juft as a changeling feems below the reft

Of men,
or rather is a two-legg'd beaft;
So thefe gigantic fouls amaz'd we find
As much above the reft of human kind!

Nature's whole ftrength united! endless fame,
And univerfal fhouts attend their name!
Read Homer once, and you can read no more ;
For all books elfe appear so mean, fo poor,
Verfe will feem profe; but ftill perfift to read,
And Homer will be all the books you need.
Had Boffu never writ, the world had still,
Like Indians, view'd this wond'rous piece of skill;
As fomething of divine, the work admir'd;
Not hop'd to be instructed, but inspir'd :
But he, difclofing facred myfteries,

Has fhewn where all the mighty magic lies;
Defcrib'd the feeds, and in what order fown,
That have to fuch a vaft proportion grown.
Sure, from fome angel he the fecret knew,
Who thro' this labyrinth has lent the clue!
But what, alas! avails it poor mankind,
To see this promis'd land, yet stay behind ?
The way is fhewn, but who has firength to go?
Who can all sciences profoundly know ?
Whofe fancy flies beyond weak reason's fight,
And yet has judgment to direct it right?
Whofe juit difcernment, Virgil-like, is fuch,
Never to fay too little, or too much?
Let fuch a man begin without delay;
But he must do beyond what I can fay!
Muft above Taffo's lofty flights prevail,
Succeed where Spencer, and ev'n Milton fail.

CADENUS

CADENUS AND VANESSA.

This is thought one of Dr. Swift's correcteft pieces; its chief merit, indeed, is the elegant ease with which a story, but ill conceived in itself, is told.

HE fhepherds and the nymphs were feen
Pleading before the Cyprian queen.

The council for the fair began,

Accufing the falfe creature Man.

The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd,
On which the pleader much enlarg'd;
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of ev'ry dart ;
His altar now no longer fmokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes :
This tempts free-thinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their pow'rs divine;
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
Which crimes aforefaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)
Against our fovereign lady's peace,
Against the ftatute in that cafe,

Against her dignity and crown:

Then pray'd an answer, and fat down.

The nymphs with fcorn beheld their foes, When the defendant's council rofe,