« PrécédentContinuer »
AND FUGITIVE PIECES;
ATTRIBUTED TO POPE.
THE FOURTH EPISTLE
FIRST BOOK OF HORACE'S EPISTLES.
[This Satire on Lord Bolingbroke, and the praise bestowed on him in a letter to Mr. Richardson, where Mr. Pope says,
"Their sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes,"
being so contradictory, probably occasioned the former to be suppressed. -Warton.
Mr. Bowles has omitted the following piece, because "he cannot think Pope would write the concluding lines on himself," v. Bowles's ed. vol. ii. p. 385, in which opinion the present editor perfectly agrees with him. But it may be observed, that this piece is as likely to be Pope's, both from the sentiment and the manner of its execution, as the Satire of One Thousand Seven Hundred and Forty, which Mr. Bowles has published, and is probably by the same author.]
SAY, St. John, who alone peruse
Is then a greater work in hand,
Then all the tomes of Haines's band?
"Or shoots he folly as it flies?
Or catches manners as they rise?"
Or urged by unquench'd native heat,
Ver. 1. Say, &c.]
AD ALBIUM TIBULLUM.
Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide judex,
Quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedanâ?
Ver. 10. Does St. John Greenwich, &c.]
"An tacitam silvas inter reptare salubres?"
Where (emulous of Chartres' fame)
To you (the all-envied gift of heaven) The indulgent gods, unask'd, have given A form complete in every part,
And, to enjoy that gift, the art.
What could a tender mother's care Wish better, to her favourite heir, Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours,
A stock of health, and golden showers,
And graceful fluency of speech,
Amidst thy various ebbs of fear,
A truth I tell with bleeding heart,
In spite of fears, of mercy spite, My genius still must rail, and write.
Ver. 13. To you, &c.]
"Di tibi formam, Di tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi." Ver. 17. What could, &c.]
Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno,
Ver. 23. Amidst, &c.]
"Inter spem, curamque, timores inter et iras." Ver. 28. That every day, &c.]
Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.
Haste to thy Twick'nham's safe retreat,
There (objects of our mutual hate)
[EGBERT SANGER served his apprenticeship with Jacob Tonson, and succeeded Bernard Lintot in his shop at Middle Temple Gate, Fleetstreet. Lintot printed Ozell's Translation of Perrault's Characters, and Sanger his translation of Boileau's Lutrin, recommended by Mr. Rowe, anno 1709.]-Warton.
OZELL, at Sanger's call invoked his muse,
THE LOOKING GLASS.
ON MRS. PULTENEY.
[ANNA MARIA GUMLEY, daughter of John Gumley, of Isleworth, was married to Pulteney, who received with her a very large fortune.
Her father gained his fortune by a glass manufactory; upon which circumstance, though hitherto unexplained, the force and elegance of this severe but pleasing composition turns.
These lines were suppressed, as Pope afterwards received great civilities from Pulteney.]-Bowles.
WITH scornful mien, and various toss of air,
Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain,
A FAREWELL TO LONDON.
DEAR, damn'd, distracting town, farewell!
To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
And Garth, the best good Christian he,
Although he knows it not.
Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go;
Heaven gives thee for thy loss of Rowe,
Why should I stay? Both parties rage;
The wits in envious feuds engage;
And Homer (damn him!) calls
The love of arts lies cold and dead
And not one Muse of all he fed,
Has yet the grace to mourn.
My friends, by turns, my friends confound,
Poor Yrs sold for fifty pounds,
Why make I friendships with the great, When I no favour seek?
Still idle, with a busy air,
Deep whimsies to contrive;
The gayest valetudinaire,
Most thinking rake alive.
Solicitous for other ends,
Though fond of dear repose;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell,
And Burlington's delicious meal,
Adieu to all but Gay alone,
Whose soul, sincere and free,
Loves all mankind, but flatters none,
And so may starve with me.