Te dominum agnofcit quocunque fub aëre natus: Quos indulgentis nimium cuftodia matris Peffundat: nam fæpè vides in ftipite matrem. Aureus at ramus, venerandæ dona Sibyllæ, Æneæ fedes tantùm patefecit Avernas ; Sæpè puer, tua quem tetigit femel aurea virga, Et cœlum, terrafque videt, noctemque profundam.
HORACE, BOOK IV. O DE IX.
ADDRESSED TO ABP. KING. 1718.
IRTUE conceal'd within our breast,
Is inactivity at best:
But never fhall the Mufe endure
To let your virtues lie obfcure;
Or fuffer Envy to conceal
Your labours for the public weal.
Within your breast all wisdom lies,
Either to govern or advife;
Your steady foul preferves her frame,
In good and evil times the fame.
Pale Avarice and lurking Fraud,
Stand in your facred presence aw'd;
Your hand alone from gold abftains,
Which drags the flavish world in chains.
Him for a happy man I own,
Whofe fortune is not overgrown ;
And happy he, who wifely knows
To use the gifts that Heaven beftows;
Or, if it please the Powers Divine,
Can fuffer want, and not repine,
The man, who infamy to shun
Into the arms of death would run;
That man is ready to defend,
With life, his country or his friend.
To Mr. DELANY, Nov. 10, 1718,
To you, whose virtues, I must own
With fhame, I have too lately known;
To you, by art and nature taught
To be the man I long have fought,
Had not ill Fate, perverse and blind,
Plac'd you in life too far behind;
Or, what I should repine at more,
Plac'd me in life too far before:
Το you the Muse this verse bestows,
Which might as well have been in profe;
No thought, no fancy, no fublime,
But fimple topicks told in rhyme.
Talents for conversation fit,
Are humour, breeding, fenfe, and wit:
The laft, as boundless as the wind,
Is well conceiv'd, though not defin'd:
For, fure, by wit is chiefly meant
Applying well what we invent.
What humour is, not all the tribe
Of logick-mongers can defcribe;
Here nature only acts her part,
Unhelp'd by practice, books, or art:
For wit and humour differ quite;
That gives furprize, and this delight.
Humour is odd, grotefque, and wild,
Only by affectation spoil'd:
'Tis never by invention got,
Men have it when they know it not.
Our converfation to refine,
Humour and wit muft both combine:
From both we learn to rally well,
Wherein fometimes the French excel;
Voiture, in various lights, difplays
That irony which turns to praise :
His genius first found out the rule
For an obliging ridicule :
He flatters with peculiar air
The brave, the witty, and the fair:
And fools would fancy he intends
A fatire, where he moft commends.
But, as a poor pretending beau,
Because he fain would make a show,
Nor can arrive at filver lace,
Takes up with copper in the place:
So the pert dunces of mankind,
Whene'er they would be thought refin'd,
As if the difference lay abstruse
'Twixt raillery and gross abuse
To fhew their parts, will fcold and rail,
Like porters o'er a pot of ale.
Such is that clan of boisterous bears,
Always together by the ears;
Shrewd fellows and arch wags, a tribe
That meet for nothing but a gibe;
Who first run one another down,
And then fall foul on all the town;
Skill'd in the horse-laugh and dry rub,
And call'd by excellence The Club.
I mean your Butler, Dawfon, Car,
All special friends, and always jar.
The mettled and the vicious fteed,
Differ as little in their breed;
Nay, Voiture is as like Tom Leigh,
As rudeness is to repartee.
If what you faid I wish unspoke,
"Twill not fuffice it was a joke:
Reproach not, though in jeft, a friend
For thofe defects he cannot mend
His lineage, calling, shape, or fense,
If nam'd with scorn, gives just offence.
What use in life to make men fret,
Part in worfe humour than they met?
Thus all fociety is loft,
Men laugh at one another's coft;
And half the company is teaz'd,
That came together to be pleas'd:
For all buffoons have most in view
To please themselves, by vexing you.
You wonder now to fee me write
So gravely on a subject light;
Some part of what I here design
Regards a friend * of your's and mine;
Who, neither void of fenfe nor wit,
Yet feldom judges what is fit,
But fallies oft' beyond his bounds,
And takes unmeasurable rounds.
When jefts are carried on too far,
And the loud laugh begins the war,
You keep your countenance for fhame,
Yet ftill you think your friend to blame:
For, though men cry they love a jest,
"Tis but when others ftand the test;
And (would you have their meaning known)
They love a jeft that is their own.
You must, although the point be nice,
Bestow your friend fome good advice:
One hint from you will fet him right,
And teach him how to be polite.
Bid him, like you, observe with care,
Whom to be hard on, whom to spare;
Nor indiftinctly to suppose
All fubjects like Dan Jackfon's nofe *.
To ftudy the obliging jest,
By reading those who teach it best;
For profe I recommend Voiture's,
For verfe (I fpeak my judgement) yours.
He'll find the fecret out from thence,
To rhyme all day without offence;
And I no more shall then accuse
The flirts of his ill-manner'd Mufe.
If he be guilty, you must mend him;
If he be innocent, defend him.
Which was afterwards the subject of feveral poems by Dr. Swift and others.
|