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Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things,
Atones not for that envy which it brings.
In youth alone its empty praise we boast,
But foon the fhort-liv'd vanity is loft:
Like fome fair flow'r the early fpring fupplies,
That gaily blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies.
Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown,
Employ their pains to spurn fome others down;
And while felf-love each jealous writer rules,
Contending wits become the fport of fools:
But ftill the worst with most regret commend,
For each ill author is as bad a friend.

To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd thro' facred luft of praise!
Ah ne'er fo dire a thirst of glory boast,
Nor in the critic let the man be loft.
Good nature and good sense must ever join ;
To err is human, to forgive, divine.

He obferves, and very juftly, that feverity ought to be pointed at thofe pieces of immorality, obfcenity, and blafphemy, that tend to corrupt the minds of mankind, but withal adds this neceflary caution.

Yet fhun their fault, who, fcandalously nice,
Will needs miftake an author into vice;
All seems infected that th' infected spy,
As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.

After this the poet gives rules for the conduct and manners in a critic, and recommends candour, modefty, good-breeding, fincerity, and freedom of advice; yet points out fome cafes where our counfel is to be reftrained, and where advice would be ineffectual. He then draws the characters of an incorrigible poet, an impertinent critic, and a good one.

LEARN then what MORALS critics ought to show,
For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know.

'Tis not enough, tafte, judgment, learning, join;
In all you speak, let truth and candour fhine:
That not alone what to your sense is due
All may allow; but feek your friendship too.

Be filent always, when you doubt your sense;
And speak, tho' fure, with feeming diffidence:
Some pofitive, perfifting fops we know,
Who if once wrong, will needs be always so ;
But you, with pleasure own your errors paft,
And make each day a critique on the last.

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true;
Blunt truths more mischief than nice falfhoods do ;
Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot.
Without good breeding, truth is difapprov❜d;
That only makes fuperior fenfe belov'd.

Be niggards of advice on no pretence:
For the worst avarice is that of fenfe.
With mean complaifance ne'er betray your truft,
Nor be fo civil as to prove unjuft.

Fear not the anger of the wife to raise;
Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.
'Tis best sometimes your cenfure to restrain,
And charitably let the dull be vain :
Your filence there is better than your fpite;
For who can rail fo long as they can write?
Still humming on, their drowsy course they keep,
And lafh'd fo long, like tops, are lash'd a-fleep.
Falfe fteps but help them to renew the race,
As, after ftumbling, jades will mend their pace.
What crouds of thefe, impertinently bold,
In founds and jingling fyllables grown old,
Still run on poets, in a raging vein,

Even to the dregs and fqueezings of the brain,
Strain out the laft dull droppings of their sense,
And rhyme with all the rage of impotence.

Such fhameless 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 ftill edifies his ears,
And always lift'ning to himfelf appears.
All books he reads, and all he reads affails,
From Dryden's fables down to Durfey's tales.

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

Unbiafs'd, or by favour, or by spite ;

Not dully prepoffefs'd, nor blindly right;

Tho' learn'd, well-bred; and tho' well-bred, fincere ;

Modeftly bold, and humanly fevere:

Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
And gladly praise the merit of a foe?
Bleft with a tafte exact, yet unconfin'd ;
A knowledge both of books and human kind;
Gen'rous converfe; a foul exempt from pride;
And love to paife, with reafon on his fide?

Here the poet introduces a concife hiftory of criticifm, with the characters of the best critics, viz. Ariftotle, Horace, Dionyfius, Petronius, Quintilian, and Longinus. He then speaks of the decay of criticism and of its revival; gives us fhort characters of Erasmus, Vida, Boileau, the duke of Buckingham, lord Rofcommon, and concludes with an elogium on his late friend and preceptor Mr. Walsh.

Thus have we given the reader the whole fcope and defign of Mr. Pope's effay, with an abftract of his precepts, and fome of thofe ornamental parts which he has artfully and judiciously thrown in to enrich and adorn his rules, and render them the more permanent and pleafing. Had we introduced all the beauties, we must have transcribed the whole poem, which, notwithstanding the fubject runs so much into common place, is indeed fo full of them, that what the author fays of Longinus, may with propriety be applied to himself.

-Him all the nine infpire,

And bless their critic with a poet's fire.
An ardent judge, who zealous in his truft,
With warmth gives fentence, yet is always juft;
Whose own examples ftrengthens all his laws;
And is himself that great fublime he draws.

We fhall conclude this article on criticism with an obfervation of Dr. Garth's, which may help to excité candour in the profeffors of this art; an ingredient very neceffary, yet much wanted by our modern critics..

"Tis to be lamented, fays he, that gentlemen ftill continue to behave thus unfairly, and treat one another

every day with most injurious libels. The Muses, should be ladies of chafte and fair behaviour; when they are otherwife, they are Furies. 'Tis certain, that Parnaffus is at best but a barren mountain, and its inhabitants contrive to make it more fo by their unneighbourly deportment. The authors are the only corporation that endeavour at the ruin of their own fociety; yet every day may convince them how much a rich fool is respected above a poor wit. The only talents in esteem at prefent are thofe of Exchange Alley; one tally is worth a grove of bays; and 'tis of more confequence to be well red in the tables of interest, and the rife and fall of flocks, than in the revolution of empires. This reflection was occafioned by the treatment Mr. Dryden met with, who (fays the Doctor) was libelled in his life-time by the very men who had no other excellencies, but as they were his imitators. Where he was allowed to have fentiments fuperior to all others, they charged him with theft: But how did he steal? No otherwise, than like those who fteal beggars children, only to cloath them the better. As his earlier works wanted no maturity, fo his latter wanted no force or fpirit; and the falling off of his hair had no other confequence than to make his laurels be seen the more."

Poets who write in the preceptive manner fhould take care to chufe fuch fubjects as are worthy of their muse, and of confequence to all mankind; for to bestow both parts and pains to teach people trifles that are unworthy of their attention, is to the laft degree ridiculous.

Among poems of the ufeful and intéresting kind, Dr. Armstrong's Art of preferving health deferves, I think, particular notice, as well in confideration of the subject, as of the elegant and masterly manner in which he has treated it; for he has made those things, which are in their own nature dry and unentertaining, perfectly agreeable and pleafing, by adhering to the rules obferved by Virgil and others in the conduct of these poems.

The author has divided this poem into four books, and confidered how our health is promoted or impair'd by air, diet, exercise, and the paffions. It opens with an invocation to Hygeia the goddess of health, whose aid, he obferves, the difficulty of the subject has render'd neceffary.

Without thy chearful active energy
No rapture fwells the breaft, no poet fings,
No more the maids of Helicon delight.
Come then with me, O Goddess heavenly gay
Begin the fong; and let it sweetly flow,
And let it wifely teach thy wholesome laws:
"How beft the fickle fabric to fupport
"Of mortal man; in healthful body how
"A healthy mind the longest to maintain.”
'Tis hard, in fuch a strife of rules, to chuse
The beft, and those of moft extensive use ;
Harder in clear and animated fong,
Dry philofophic precepts to convey.
Yet with thy aid the fecret wilds I trace
Of nature, and with daring fteps proceed.
Thro' paths the mufes never trod before.

!

He then pays a compliment to Dr. Mead, and entering on the fubject air, inveighs against that which we breathe in London, and fays,

-It is not air

That from a thoufand lungs reeks back to thine,

Sated with exhalations rank and fell,

The spoil of dunghills, and the putrid thaw
Of nature, when from fhape and texture the
Relapfes into fighting elements:

It is not air, but floats a naufeous mass
Of all obscene, corrupt, offenfive things.
Much moisture hurts; but here a fordid bath,
With oily rancour fraught, relaxes more
The folid frame than fimple moisture can.

The reflection he has made on the benefit we receive from burning of pit-coal is truly philosophical, and drawn from experience; for, it has been obferved, that no plague or peftilential diforder (properly fo called) has appear'd in London fince the introduction, and general use of this kind of fuel.

The directions he then gives for the choice of air, and of a country fituation, are delivered in a manner very poetical and pleafing.

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