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Sense, speech andmeasure, living tongues and dead, Let all give way—and Morris may be read. Flow, Welsted, flow ! like thine inspirer, beer, Tho'stale, not ripe ; tho' thin, yet never clear; 170 So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull; Heady, not strong ; o'erflowing, though not full. Ah, Dennis! Gildon, ah! what ill-starr'd
rage Divides a friendship long confirm’d by age? Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, 175 But fool with fool is barb'rous civil war. Embrace, embrace, my sons ! be foes no more ! Nor glad vile poets with true critics' gore.
REMARKS. called Sawney, very abusive of Dr. Swift, Mr. Gay, and himself. These lines alluded to a thing of his entitleri Night, a poem. This low writer atiended his own works with panegyrics in the Journals, and once in particular praised himself highly abore Mr. Addison, in wretched remarks upon that author's account of English Poets printed in a London Journal, Sept. 17, 1728. lle was wholly illiterate, and knew no language, not even French. Being advised to read the Rules of dramatic poetry before he be. gan a play, he smiled, and replied, 'Shakespeare writ without rules. He ended at last, in ihe common sink of all suc, se ters, a political newspaper, to which he was recommended by his friend Arnall, and received a small pittance for pay.
IMITATIONS. v. 169. Flow, Welsted, flow! &c.] Parody on Denham, Coo
o could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
• Strong without rage; witliouto'ertlowing full.' T. 177. Embrace, embrace, my sons! be jues no more!! Virg. Æn. VI.
......Ne tanta animis assuescite bella,
Behold yon? pair, in strict embraces join'd; How like in manners, and bow like in mind ! 180 Equal in wit, and equally polite, Shall this a l'asquin, that a Grumbler write; Like are their meriis, like rewards they share, That shines a Consul, this Commissioner.
But who is he, in closet closely-pent, • Of sober face, with learned dust besprent ?' Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight, On parchment scrapes y-fed, and Wormius hight. To future ages inay thy dulness last, As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past !
190 There, dim in clouds, the poring scholiasts mark: Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark, A lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head, For ever reading, never to be read !
But, where each science lifts its modern type, Histry her pot, Divinity her pipe,
196 While proud Philosophy repines to show, Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below;
Illae autem, paribus quas fulgere cernis in armis,
Nisus amore pio pueri.' v. 185. But who is he, &c.] Virg. Æn. VI. questions and answers in this manner, of Numa:
Quis procul ille autem cainis insignis olivæ,
And in Æn. V.
Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo! Henley stands, Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands. 200 How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue ! How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung! Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain, While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson, preach in vain. Oh great restorer of the good old stage,
205 Preacher at once, and Zany of thy age ! Oh worthy thou of Egypt's wise abodes, A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods ! But Fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall, Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and mawl; 210 And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise, In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days.
Yet, oh, my sons ! a father's words attend : (S0 may the Fates preserve the ears you lend)
REMARKS. d. 199...lo! Henley štands, &c.] J. Henley the orator; he preached on the Sundays upon Theological matters, and on the Wednesdays upon all other Sciences. Each auditor paid one shilling. He declaimed some years against the greatest persons, and occasionally did our Author that honor.
v. 201.. Sherlock, Ilare,..Gibson. Bishops of Salisbury, Chichester, and London; whose Sermons and Pastoral Letters did honor to their country as well as stations.
v.212. Of Toiand and Tindal, see Book II. rer 399. Thomas Woolston was an impious madman, who wrote, in a most insolent style, against the miracles of the Gospel, in the years 16:00, &c.
'Tis yours a Bacon, or a Locke to blame, 215
Thus he, for then a ray of reason stole 225
His never-blushing head he turn'd aside, 231 (Not half so pleas'd when Goodman prophesy'd), And look'd, and saw a sable sorc'rer rise, Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies : All sudden, gorgons hiss, and dragons glare, 235 And ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war. Hell rises, heav'n descends, and dance on earth; Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirtb, A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, 'Till one wide conflagration swallows all. 240
Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknowi, Breaks out refulgent, with a heav'n its own :
Learn, ye Dunces! not to scorn your God.' * Discite justitiain moniti et non temnere divos.' Fira
Another Cynthia her new journey runs,
Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought ; What pow'r, he cries, what pow'r these wonders wrought?
Virg. Æn. VI. v. 246. Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies.) Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum.'
Hor, 0. 251. Sori, ühut thou scekest is in thee! ] 'Quod petis in te est...: .....Ne te quaesiveris extra.'
Pers. v. 256. Wings the red lightning, &c.) Like Salmoneus in JEN. VI.
“ Dum flammas Jovis, et sonitus imitatur Olympi.
....Nimbos, et non imitabile fulmen,
• Poetic fields encompass me around,