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No more than thou, great GEORGE! a

birth-day song I ne'er with wits or witlings pass'd my

days, To spread about the itch of verse and

praise; Nor like a puppy, daggled thro' the

town, To fetch and carry and sing-song up and

down; Nor at Rehearsals sweat, and mouth'd

and cry'd, With handkerchief and orange at my

side; But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate, To Bufo left the whole Castalian state.?

Proud as Apollo on his forked hill, 231 Sat full-blown Bufo, puff'd by ev'ry quill; Fed with soft Dedication all day long, Horace and he went hand in hand in

song. His Library (where busts of Poets dead And a true Pindar stood without a head) Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race, Who first his judgment ask'd, and then a

place: Much they extoll’d his pictures, much his

seat, And flatter'd ev'ry day, and some days

eat: Till grown more frugal in his riper days, He paid some bards with port, and some

with praise; To some a dry rehearsal was assign’d, And others (harder still) he paid in kind. Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not

nigh, Dryden alone escap'd this judging eye: But still the Great have kindness in re

serve; He help'd to bury whom he help'd to



Left me to see neglected Genius bloom,
Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb:
Of all thy blameless life the sole return
My Verse and QUEENSB'RY' weeping

o'er thy urn. Oh let me live my own, and die so too! (To live and die is all I have to do:) Maintain a Poet's dignity and ease, And see what friends, and read what

books I please; Above a Patron, tho' I condescend Sometimes to call a minister my friend. I was not born for Courts or great

affairs; I pay my debts, believe, and say my

pray’rs; Can sleep without a Poem in my head; Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead. 270 Why am I ask'd what next shall see

the light? Heav'ns! was I born for nothing but to

write? Has Life no joys for me? or, (to be

grave) Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save? “I found him close with Swift"-"In

deed? no doubt,” (Cries prating Balbus) "something will

come out." 5 John Gay, author of " Pope wrote an epitaph Beggar's Opera, on Gay.

Pope's ? The Duchess of Queens. closest friends.


bury, in whose house Gay died.


1 dragged through mud
? The allusion is doubt.

ful but is probably to
the Earl of Halifax,
The Castaliar spring
on Mount

Parnassus was sacred to

the muses.

4 Lora Halifax contrib

uted towards an elab-
orate funeral for

the was





'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will.

Let Sporus tremble-A. What? that "No, such a Genius never can lie still;"

thing of silk, And then for mine obligingly mistakes Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's The first Lampoon Sir Will,' or Bubo ?

milk? makes.

Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? smile,

P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded When ev'ry Coxcomb knows me by my

wings, Style?

This painted child of dirt, that stinks and Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it

stings; flow,

Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, That tends to make one worthy man my Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er foe,

enjoys: Give Virtue scandal, Innocence a fear, So well-bred spaniels civilly delight Or from the soft-eyed Virgin steal a In mumbling of the game they dare not tear.

bite. But he who hurts a harmless neighbor's Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, peace,

As shallow streams run dimpling all the Insults fall'n worth, or Beauty in distress,

way. Who loves a Lie, lame Slander helps Whether in florid impotence he speaks, about,

And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet Who writes a Libel, or who copies out: 290

squeaks; That Fop, whose pride affects a patron's Or at the ear of Eve, familiar Toad, name,

Half froth, half venom, spits himself Yet absent, wounds an author's honest abroad, fame;

In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Who can your merit selfishly approve, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasAnd show the sense of it without the love;

phemies. Who has the vanity to call you friend, His wit all see-saw, between that and Yet wants the honor, injur'd, to defend;

this, Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er Now high, now low, now master up, you say,

now miss, And, if he lie not, must at least betray: And he himself one vile Antithesis. Who to the Dean, and silver bell can Amphibious thing! that acting either swear,

part, And sees at Canons what was

The trifling head or the corrupted heart, there; 3

Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board, Who reads, but with a lust to misapply, Now trips a Lady, and now struts a Make Satire a Lampoon, and Fiction,


Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exA lash like mine no honest man shall

prest, dread,

A Cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; But all such babbling blockheads in his Beauty that shocks you, parts that none stead,

will trust; i Sir William Young

Chandos Wit that can creep, and pride that licks 2 Bubh Doddington,







(whose house was at terwards Mel.


the dust. Some one had told the

4 John, Lord Hervey. Cf. line 149.




Canons) that
had ridiculed him.






Not Fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's For thee, fair Virtue! welcome ev'n the fool,

last! Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's A. But why insult the poor, affront tool,

the great?

360 Not proud nor servile;-be one Poet's P. A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry praise,

state: That, if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, ways:

Sporus’ at court, or Japhet 2 in a jail, That Flatt’ry, ev’n to Kings, he held a A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer, shame,

Knight of the post corrupt, or of the And thought a Lie in verse or prose the


If on a Pillory, or near a Throne, That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own. long,

Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his

wit, song:

Sappho 4 can tell you how this man was That not for Fame, but Virtue's better


This dreaded Sat’rist Dennis will conHe stood the furious foe, the timid

fess friend,

Foe to his pride, but friend to his disThe damning critic, half approving wit,

tress: The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit; So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never

door, had,

Has drunk with Cibber, nay has rhym'd The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the

for Moore. mad;

Full ten years slander'd, did he once The distant threats of vengeance on his

reply? head,

Three thousand suns went down The blow unfelt, the tear he never

Welsted's 6 lie. shed;

To please a Mistress one aspers’d his The tale reviv'd, the lie so oft o'er

life; thrown,

He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife. Th’ imputed trash, and dulness not his Let Budgel? charge low Grubstreet on own;

his quill, The morals blacken'd when the writings And write whate'er he pleas’d, except his scape,

Will; The libel'd person, and the pictur'd Let the two Curlls of Town and Court, shape;


380 Abuse, on all he lov’d, or lov'd him, His father, mother, body, soul, and muse. spread,

1 See line 305

prologue to play A friend in exile, or a father dead; 2 Japhet Crooke, in jail acted for the benefit


of his ancient enemy, The whisper, that to greatness still too

Dennis. fenses,

• Leonard Welsted,

* One who stood near the poet, who bitterly at Perhaps, yet vibrates on his Sov’REIGN'S sheriff's pillars ready tacked Pope.

to anything Budgel abused Pope in

a weekly paper called

4 Lady Mary Wortley the Bee. He was sur Welcome for thee, fair Virtue! all the Montagu, with whom posed to have forg

Pope quarreled.

will by which he past;




for extensive
eries and other of


to swear


for pay:


1733 Pope wrote a

got a large fortune

6 In



Yet why? that Father held it for a rule, It was a sin to call our neighbor fool: That harmless Mother thought no wife a

whore: Hear this, and spare his family, James

Moore! Unspotted names, and memorable long! If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. Of gentle blood (part 'shed in Honor's

cause, While yet in Britain Honor had applause) Each parent sprung-A. What fortune,

Pray?-P. Their own, And better got, than Bestia's from the

throne. Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife; Stranger to civil and religious rage, The good man walk'd innoxious thro’ his

age. Nor Courts he saw, no suits would ever

try, Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a

Lie.1 Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle

art, No language, but the language of the

heart. By Nature honest, by Experience wise, Healthy by temp'rance, and by exer

His life, tho' long, to sickness past un

known, His death was instant, and without a

groan. O grant me thus to live, and thus to die! Who sprung from Kings shall know less

joy than I. O Friend! may each domestic bliss be

thine! Be no unpleasing Melancholy mine: Me, let the tender office long engage, To rock the cradle of reposing Age, With lenient arts extend a Mother's

breath, Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed

of Death, Explore the thought, explain the asking

eye, And keep a while one parent from the

sky! On cares like these if length of days at

tend, May Heav'n, to bless those days, pre

serve my friend, Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene, And just as rich as when he serv'd a

QUEEN. A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or

giv'n, Thus far was right, the rest belongs to





1 He refused to take the oath of allegiance, or

the oath against the Pope.


2 Dr.

Arbuthnot Anne.

been physician




At the beginning of the eighteenth century many of the shorter forms of writing which to-day find their natural place in the newspapers and magazines had much more difficulty in attaining publication. True, the editorial and the news story might be published as a broadside, and the article would make a pamphlet; but casual pieces like the essay, until the time of Addison and Steele, generally had to be kept until enough of them were accumulated to make a book. The establishment of the Tatler in 1709 marks a new era in the history of the essay.

The literary periodical practically came into existence with the Tatler. Previous to Steele’s venture periodical publications had been little more than news sheets containing information, real or alleged, about current events. In 1704, however, Defoe had begun a Review which in addition to news contained, as its title announced, “an entertaining part in every sheet, being advice from the Scandal Club, to the curious, in answer to letters sent for that purpose.” The essays which appeared in this second part thus formed a regular feature of his paper, and many of them might easily have been printed in the Tatler. In numerous respects Defoe's Review was an important forerunner of Steele's paper.

Steele in 1709 was the editor of the official government newspaper, The London Gazette. As such he was in a favorable position to obtain news, some of which doubtless he could not use in the Gazette. He conceived the idea of publishing a periodical which should combine information about current events with essays on all subjects which polite readers could be expected to take an interest in. The Tatier first appeared April 12, 1709, and it continued to come out three times a week for twenty-one months. In form it was merely a single folio sheet printed on both sides. After the first month Addison joined his friend in the undertaking. Gradually the part devoted to news disappeared and the contents, except for a few advertisements at the end, were purely literary. Two months after the Tatler was discontinued the first number of the Spectator appeared (March 1, 1711). The new paper was wholly literary from the beginning, appeared daily, and each number generally consisted of a single essay. It ran until February 6, 1712, attaining an average circulation of from 1500 to 2000 copies a day.

The essay that was evolved under these conditions is quite different from what it was in the hands of Bacon. (It absorbed a number of elements from other forms, including the character," the "familiar letter," the so-called “table talk," and others) As a result it was a much more varied thing. While in the hands of Addison and Steele it might still at times be the Baconian essay on honor, friendship, modesty,

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