Si quid novisti rectius istis,
Candidus imperti; si non, his utere mecum
[If you have come to know any precept more correct than these, share it with me, brilliant one; if not, use these with me] (Horace, Epistle I.6.67)
1 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
2 Appear in writing or in judging ill;
3 But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence
4 To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
5 Some few in that, but numbers err in this,
6 Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
7 A fool might once himself alone expose,
8 Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
9 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
10 Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
11 In poets as true genius is but rare,
12 True taste as seldom is the critic's share;
13 Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
14 These born to judge, as well as those to write.
15 Let such teach others who themselves excel,
16 And censure freely who have written well.
17 Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
18 But are not critics to their judgment too?
19 Yet if we look more closely we shall find
20 Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind;
21 Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
22 The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.
23 But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac'd,
24 Is by ill colouring but the more disgrac'd,
25 So by false learning is good sense defac'd;
26 Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
27 And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.
28 In search of wit these lose their common sense,
29 And then turn critics in their own defence:
30 Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,
31 Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's spite.
32 All fools have still an itching to deride,
33 And fain would be upon the laughing side.
34 If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
35 There are, who judge still worse than he can write.
36 Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd,
37 Turn'd critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last;
38 Some neither can for wits nor critics pass,
39 As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
40 Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle
41 As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
42 Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
43 Their generation's so equivocal:
44 To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require,
45 Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
46 But you who seek to give and merit fame,
47 And justly bear a critic's noble name,
48 Be sure your self and your own reach to know,
49 How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
50 Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
51 And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
52 Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
53 And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit:
54 As on the land while here the ocean gains,
55 In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
56 Thus in the soul while memory prevails,
57 The solid pow'r of understanding fails;
58 Where beams of warm imagination play,
59 The memory's soft figures melt away.
60 One science only will one genius fit;
61 So vast is art, so narrow human wit:
62 Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
63 But oft in those, confin'd to single parts.
64 Like kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
65 By vain ambition still to make them more;
66 Each might his sev'ral province well command,
67 Would all but stoop to what they understand.
68 First follow NATURE, and your judgment frame
69 By her just standard, which is still the same:
70 Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
71 One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
72 Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
73 At once the source, and end, and test of art.
74 Art from that fund each just supply provides,
75 Works without show, and without pomp presides:
76 In some fair body thus th' informing soul
77 With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
78 Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains;
79 Itself unseen, but in th' effects, remains.
80 Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse,
81 Want as much more, to turn it to its use;
82 For wit and judgment often are at strife,
83 Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
84 'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed;
85 Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
86 The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
87 Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
88 Those RULES of old discover'd, not devis'd,
89 Are Nature still, but Nature methodis'd;
90 Nature, like liberty, is but restrain'd
91 By the same laws which first herself ordain'd.
92 Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites,
93 When to repress, and when indulge our flights:
94 High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd,
95 And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;
96 Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize,
97 And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise.
98 Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n,
99 She drew from them what they deriv'd from Heav'n.
100 The gen'rous critic fann'd the poet's fire,
101 And taught the world with reason to admire.
102 Then criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd,
103 To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd;
104 But following wits from that intention stray'd;
105 Who could not win the mistress, woo'd the maid;
106 Against the poets their own arms they turn'd,
107 Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd.
108 So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
109 By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
110 Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
111 Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
112 Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey,
113 Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they:
114 Some drily plain, without invention's aid,
115 Write dull receipts how poems may be made:
116 These leave the sense, their learning to display,
117 And those explain the meaning quite away.
118 You then whose judgment the right course would steer,
119 Know well each ANCIENT'S proper character;
120 His fable, subject, scope in ev'ry page;
121 Religion, country, genius of his age:
122 Without all these at once before your eyes,
123 Cavil you may, but never criticise.
124 Be Homer's works your study and delight,
125 Read them by day, and meditate by night;
126 Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring,
127 And trace the Muses upward to their spring;
128 Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse;
129 And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.
130 When first young Maro in his boundless mind
131 A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd,
132 Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,
133 And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw:
134 But when t' examine ev'ry part he came,
135 Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.
136 Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold design,
137 And rules as strict his labour'd work confine,
138 As if the Stagirite o'erlook'd each line.
139 Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
140 To copy nature is to copy them.
141 Some beauties yet, no precepts can declare,
142 For there's a happiness as well as care.
143 Music resembles poetry, in each
144 Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
145 And which a master-hand alone can reach.
146 If, where the rules not far enough extend,
147 (Since rules were made but to promote their end)
148 Some lucky LICENCE answers to the full
149 Th' intent propos'd, that licence is a rule.
150 Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,
151 May boldly deviate from the common track.
152 Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
153 And rise to faults true critics dare not mend;
154 From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
155 And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art,
156 Which, without passing through the judgment, gains
157 The heart, and all its end at once attains.
158 In prospects, thus, some objects please our eyes,
159 Which out of nature's common order rise,
160 The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.
161 But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
162 (As kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
163 Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
164 Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
165 Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need,
166 And have, at least, their precedent to plead.
167 The critic else proceeds without remorse,
168 Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
169 I know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts
170 Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults.
171 Some figures monstrous and misshap'd appear,
172 Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
173 Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place,
174 Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
175 A prudent chief not always must display
176 His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array,
177 But with th' occasion and the place comply,
178 Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly.
179 Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
180 Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
181 Still green with bays each ancient altar stands,
182 Above the reach of sacrilegious hands,
183 Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage,
184 Destructive war, and all-involving age.
185 See, from each clime the learn'd their incense bring!
186 Hear, in all tongues consenting pæans ring!
187 In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd,
188 And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind!
189 Hail, bards triumphant! born in happier days;
190 Immortal heirs of universal praise!
191 Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
192 As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow!
193 Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
194 And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
195 Oh may some spark of your celestial fire
196 The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
197 (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights;
198 Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes)
199 To teach vain wits a science little known,
200 T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own!