Alexander Pope.

The complete poetical works of Alexander Pope, esq: with an original memoir ... online

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• is justified in giving wealth to be squandered in this manner, since it is
dispersed to the poor and laborious part of mankind, ver. 169, [recurring
to what is laid down in the first book, Epistle II., and in the Epistle pre-
ceding this, vcr. 159, d&c] What are the proper objects of magnificencei
and a proper field for the expense of great men, ver. 177, <&c And finallj
the great ^d pabUc works which become a prince, ver. 191, to the end.

'Tis Strange, the miser should his cares employ
To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy:
Is it less strange, the prodigal should waste
His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste? e



Not for himself he «ees, or hears, Of e£rts; '

Artists must choose his pictures, music, meats: . ' '

He buys for Topham drawings and designs;

For Pembroke statues, dirty gods, and coins ;

Rare monkish manuscripts for Heatne alorie*;

And books for Mead, and biktterflies for Sloane: ' "^ 10

Think we all these are for himself! nO moire

Than his iine wife; alas! or finer whore.

For what has Virro paiikted, built, afad plantM?
Only to show how many tastes he warned. • '- "
What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to Wftdt^^f
Some demon whisper'd, "Visto! have a taste.'^
Heaven visits with a taste the wealthy fool, •
And needs no rod but -Ripley with a riile. - *

See ! sportive fate, to punish awkward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and 'sends him such a guide: ' 20

A standing sermon at each yeai*% expense, ' ^^

That never coxcomb reached magnlfie^nce. ^ -

You show us Romewas gloriouii; not profnee,
And pompous buildings oftoe were tWbgs of tider
Yet shall, my lotd, ydur just, your ik>ble rul^ ^^^'' '
Fill half the land with imitating fools; ^ ^ i ^^ = •
Who random drawings from your sheets shall take, » ^ *
And of one beauty, many bhmders make; ' * ^
Load some vain church with ^Id theatric fetitt^,' » '^' '
Turn arcs of triumph to a gard^n^gitt^^r - - ftO

Reverse your oniaments, and hafig tfeeth'ttll • ■ '' ' '
On some patch'd dog-^ioie, efced with.istidts of nvfeflf *
Then clap four slices of pilestftr on't,
That, laced with bits of rustic, ittafces n front; ^ '
Shall call the winds through long areaides to roar,
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door:

Variation. — ^After veE..22in the MS.:

Must bishops, lawyers, statesmen, haVe the skill
To build, to plant, jud^e paintings, what you will? ^.
Then why not Kent as well our treaties draw,
Bridgman explain the gospel, Gibbs the law^Qoi^

ff2 JXlUlCAJLi £iS9AlS.

Conscious they act a true Palladian part,
And if they starve, they starve by rules of art.

Oft have you hinted to your brother peer,
A certain truth, which many buy too dear; 40

Something there is more needful than expense.
And something previous ev'n to taste — 'tis sense;
Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And, though no science, fairly worth the seven ;
A light which in yourself you must perceive;
Jones and Le N^re have it not to give.

To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the column, or the arch to bend.
To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot.
In all, let Nature never be forgot : 50

But treat the goddess like a modest fair,
Nor over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare ;
Let not each beauty every where be spied,
Where half the skill is decently tq hide.
He gains. all points, who pleadingly con^nds,
Surprises, varies^ and conceals the bpund^.

Consult the genius of the place in all:
That tells the waters or to rise or fall;
Or helps th' ambitious hill the heavens to scale.
Or scoops in circling theatres the vale; 60

Calls in the counti?y, catcher opening glades,
Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades;
Now breaks, or ,|K)W directs, th' intending lines,
Paints as you paint, and as you work, designs.

Still follow sense, of every art the soul :
Parts answering part3 irfi£^ll slide into a whole.
Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
Start ev'n from difficulty, strike from chance:
Nature shall join you; time shall make it grow
A work to wonder at — perhaps a Stowe. 70

Withoujt it, proud Versailles! thy glory falls;
And Nero*s |;erraces desert their walls;
The vast parterres a thousand hands shall make,
Lol Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake:

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Or cut wide views tlirough mountains to the plain,

You'll wish your hill or sheltered seat again.

Ev'n in an ornament its place remark,

Nor in a hermitage set Dr. Clarke.

Behold Villario's ten years' toil complete,

His quincunx darkejps, his espaliers meet; 8fl

The wood supports the plain, the parts unite,

And strength of shade contends with strength of light;

A waving gloom the bloomy beds display.

Blushing in bright diversities of day,

With silver-quivering rills meandered o'er —

Enjoy them, you ! Villario can no more :

Tired of the scene parterres and- fountains yields

He finds at last he better likes a field.

Through his young woods how pleased Sabmus stray'd,
Or sate delighted in the thickening shade, ;^0

With annual joy the reddening shoots to greet,
Or see the stretching branches long to meet ! ' [

His son's fine taste an opener vista loves,
Foe to the dryads of his father's groves !
One boundless green, or flourish'd carpet views.
With all the mournful family of yews:
The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks made.
Now sweep those alleys they were, born to shade.

At Timon's villa let us pass a day.
Where all cry out, "What sums are thrown away!" 100
So proud, so grand; of that stupendous air,
Soft and agreeable come never there.
Greatness, with Timon, dwells in such a drought
As brings all Brobdignag before your thought;
To compass this, his building is a town.
His pond an ocean, his parterre a down:
Who but must laugh, the master when he sees,
A puny insect, shivering at a breeze !
Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around !
The whole a laboured quarry above ground. 110

Two Cupids squirt before ; a lake behind
Improves the keeness of the northern wind*

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His gardens next your admiration call,

On every side you look, behold the wall \

No pleasing intricacies intervene, *-

No artful wildness to perplex the scene:

Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,

And half the platform just reflects the other.

The suffering eye inverted nature sees,

Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees; 120

With here a fountain never to be play'd.

And there a summer-house that knows no shade;

Here Amphitrit6 sails through myrtle bowers ;

There gladiators fight, or die in flowers;

Unwater'd see the drooping sea-horse mourn,

And swallows roost in Nilus* dusty urn.

My lord advances with majestic mien,
iSmit with the mighty pleasure to be seen:
But sofl;^by regular approach — ^not yet— ^
First through th^ length of yon hot terrace sweat! ISO
And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighs.
Just at his study-door he'll bless your eyes^

His study! with what authors is it stored?
In books, not authors, curious is my lord ;
To all their dated backs he turns yoii round;
These Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has bound !
Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good.
For all his lordship knows, but they are wood!
For Locke or Milton, 'tis in vain to look:
Those shelves admit not anyonodem book. • Ho

And now the chapel's silver bell you hear.
That summons you to all the pride of prayer:
Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,
Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven.
On painted ceilings you devoutly stare,
Where sprawl the saints of Vemo or Laguerre,
Or gilded clouds in fair expansion lie,
^' And bring all Piiradise before your eye.
To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,
Who never mentions -hell to ears polite. 160

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But, hark ! the chiming clocks to dinner call ;
^.hundred footsteps scrape the rparble hall:
'J'he rich buffet well-colour'd serpents grace,
And gaping Tritorl.s spew to wash your face.
Is this a dinner? this a genial room?
No, 'tis a temple, and a hecatomb.
A solemn sacrifice perform'd in state:
You drin>v by measure, and to minutes eat.
So quick retires each flying course, you'd swear
Sancho's dead doctor and his wand were there. I GO

Between each act the trembling salvers ring,
Frqi^i soup to sweet wine, and God bless the king 1
In plenty starving, tantalized in state.
And complaisantly help'd to all I hate.
Treated, caress'd, and tired, I take my leave,
Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve ;
I curse such lavish cost and little skill,
And swear no day was ever pass'd so ill.

Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hungry fed;
Health to himself, and to his infants bread, 170

The labourer bears : what his hard heart denies,
His charitable vanity supplies.

Another age shall see the golden ear
Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre,
Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd,
And laughing Ceres reassume the land.

Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil?
Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like B'yyle.
'Tis use alone that sanctifies expense,
And splendour borrows all her rays from sense* 180

His father's acres who enjoys in peace.
Or makes his neighbours glad if he increase:
Whose cheerful tenants bless their yearly toil,
Yet to their lord owe more than to the soil ;
Whose ample lawns are not ashamed to feed
The milky heifer and deserving steed ;
Whose rising forests, not for pride or show,
But future buildings, future navies, grow :

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Let his plantations stretch from down to down,

First shade a country, and then raise a town. 190

You, too, proceed ! make falling arts your care.
Erect new wonders, and the old repair;
Jones and Palladio to themselves restore.
And be whate'er Vitruvius was before:
Till kings call forth th' ideas of your mind,
(Proud to accomplish what such hands designed);
Bid harbours open, public ways extend.
Bid temples worthier of the God ascend ;
Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain.
The mole projected break the roaring main ; 200

Back to his bounds their subject sea command.
And roll obedient rivers through the land;
These honours peace to happy Britain brings;
These are imperial works, and worthy kings.

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This was originally written in the year 17>5, when Mr, Addison intended
to publish his book of Medals ; it was some time before he was secretary of
Btate ; but not published till Mr. Tickell's edition of his works; at wbieh time
his verses on Mr. Craggs, which conclud^he poem, were added, yjsi: ia J72G.

As the third Epistle treated of the e^iremes of. avarice and provision; and
the fourth took up one particukir brp^ch of the latter, namely, the vanity of
expense in people of wealth and qv^hty, and was therefore a corollary to the
third ; so tins treats of one circui^tance of that vanity, as it appears in the
common collectors of old coin ;^^^ i^, thefefofe, a corollary to the foorth.

See the wild wastf of all-devouring years!
How Rome her oV sad sepulchre appears!
With nodding arches, broken temples spread !
The very tombs />^ vanish'd like their dead!
Imperial wonde'^^^^sed on nations spoil'd,
Where mix'd -^^ slaves the groaning martyr toil'd:
Huge theatr^* *^^^ ^^w unpeopled woods,
Now draip^ ^ distant country of her floods:
Fanes, w^^^ admiring gods with pride survey
Statues^>^ ^^^l scarce less alive than they! 10

Some/^ f^® silent stroke of mouldering age,
Son>^^stile fury, some religious rage:
jja^rian blindness, Christian zeal conspire,
j^l papal piety, and Gothic fire.
Trhaps by its own ruins saved from flame,
>ome buried marble half preserves a name-
That name the leamM with fierce dispute pursue
And give to Titus old Vespasian's due.

Ambition sigh'd; she found in vain to trust
The faithless column and the crumbling bust;- 20

Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore.
Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more!
Vol. II, — 5 Q

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Convinced, she now contracts her vast design,
And all her triumphs shrink into a coin.
A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps.
Beneath her j)alrta here sad ' Judek tveeps,
No scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates thiough the piece is rdFd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold. ' 30

. The medal, faithful to its charge of fame,
Throwgh olimes and ages bears each form and name.
In one short view, subject^H to our eye
Gods, emperors, heroes, sage«, beauties, lie.
With sharpened sight, pale antiquaries pore,
T.h' insjcripiion valjue, but the ru;t adore.
This the Woe varnish, that the gr^n endears
The sacred rust of twice ten hund^j years !
To gain Pesc^nnius one employs his^^chemes
One grasps a CTecrops in ecstatic drear^g, ^ ^q

Poor Vadius^long with learned spleen cevourM
Can taste no pleasure since his shield. w^ scour'd
And Curio, restless by the fair one's side.
Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.

Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine:
Touched by thy hand, again Rome's glories sh^^.
Her gods, and godlike heroes rise to view.
And all her faded garlands bloom anew.
Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage:
These pleased the fathers of poetic rage: 5^

The verse and sculpture bore an equal part.
And art reflected images to art.

Oh, when shall Britain, conscious of her claim,
Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
In living medals see her wars enrol'd,
And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold? "*

Here, rising ^bold, the patriot's honest face;
There, warrior's frowning in historic brass:
Then future ages with delight shall see
How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree; 60

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Or in fair series laureFd bards be shown,

A Virgil there, and here an Addison.

Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine)

On the cast ore, another PolJio, shine;

With aspect .<>p^,. shall erect his head,.

And round the orb in lasting notes be read:

"Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,

In action faithful, and in honour clear;

Who broke no promise, served no private end,

Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend : 70

Ennobled by himself, by all approved,

And praised, unenvied, by the muse he loved."

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Oeeanoned by the Death of Mr, Pope. — Inscribed to Wmrburton,


Abgument. — Of the end and efficacy of satire. The love of glory and feax
of shame, universal, ver. 29. This passion, implanted in man as a spur to
virtue, is generally perverted, ver. 41. And thus becomes the occasion of
the greatest follies, vices, and miseries, ver. 61. It is the work of satire to
rectify this passion, to reduce it to its proper channel, and to convert it
into an incentive to wisdom and virtue, ver. 89. Hence it appears, that
satire may influence those who defy all laws, human and divine, ver. 99.
An objection answered, ver. 131.

Fate gave the word; the cruel arrow sped;
And Pope lies number'd with the mighty dead !
Resigned he fell; superior to the dart,
That quench'd its rage in yours and Britain*s heart:

* John Brown, A. M., afterwards D.D., and author of the following Essay-
on Satire, is also advantageously known to the literary public by several other
works, and particularly by his Essays on the Characteristics of Lord Shaftes-
bury, of which there have been many editions. Another work of his, which
obtained still greater ]}opularity, was his "Estimate of the Manners and
Principles of the Times," where he endeavoured, by the severity of his invec-
tive against the indolence and selfishness of his coimtrymen, to rouse them to
useful and honourable exertion, in which noble and patriotic attempt, he is
supposed to have had considerable success. His tragedy of Barbarossa was
brought forward with great advantage by Garrick, and for some time kept
possession of the stage. He also wrote a poem, entitled " Hononr,** addressed
to Lord Lonsdale, and an ode, entitled '* The Cure of Sanl," ^diich was set to
music, and performed as an oratorio. The former of these inay be found in
ijie tliird volume of Dod8le3r*s Collection of Poems, and the latter in the second
volume of the supplemental collection of Pearch. Many other pieces of hia
are enumerated in the Biographia Britannica, where a further account of the
circumstances of his life, and of its unhappy termination, may be found.

To the character of Dr. Brown, both moral and intellectual, the following
piece docs great credit ; and in the situation where it is now placed^ it may


You moura; but Britai^. lulFd in rest profound,

(Unconscious Britain!) slumbers o'er her wound.

Exulting Dullness eyed the setting light,

And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night;

Roused at the signal, guilt collects her train.

And counts the triumphs of her growiiig reign; 10

With inextinguishable rage they bum.

And snake-hung envy hisses o'er his urn;

Th' envenom'd monsters spit their deadly foam,

To blast the laurel that surrounds his tomb.

But you, O Warburton ! whose eye refined
Can see the greatness of an honest mind;
Can see each virtue and each grace unite.
And taste the raptures of a pure delight ;
You visit oft his awful page with care,
And view that bright assertiblage treasured there ; 20

You trace the chain that links his deep design,
And pour new lustre on the glowing line.
Yet deign to hear the efforts of a muse,
Whose eye, not wing, his ardent flight pursues:
Intent from this great archetype to draw
Satire's bright form, and fix her equal law;
Pleased if from hence th' unlearn'd may comprehend.
And reverence his and Satire's generous end.

In every breast there burns an active flame.
The love of glory, or the dread of shame: 30

The passion one, though various it appear.
As brighten'd into hope, or dimm'd by fear.
The lisping infant, and the hoary sire.
And youth and manhood feel the heart-born fire:
The charms of praise the coy, the modest, woo.
And only fly that glory may pursue :
She, power resistless, rules the wise and great;
Bends even reluctant hermits at her feet;

serve as no unsuitable introduction to the Satires of Pope, as it contains sound
principles and correct critical opinions, and is upon the whole one of the best
imitations of the style and mannw of Pope that have hithertp^appearfid.—

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Haunts the proud city, and the lowly shade,

And sways alike the sceptre and the^pade. 40

Thus Heaven in pity wakes the fiaendly flame^
To urge mankind on deeds that merit fame:
But man, vain man^ in folly only wise,
Rejects the mcinna sept him from the skies ;
With rapture hears corrupted passion's call,
Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall.
As each deceitful shadow tempts his view,
He for the imaged substance quits the true;
Eager to catch the visionary prize.

In quest of glory, plunges deep in vice; 50

Till madly zealous, impotently vain,
He forfeits every praise he pants to gain.

Thus still imperious nature plies her part.
And still her dictates work in every heart.
Each power that sovereign nature bids enjoy,
Man may corrupt, but man can ne'er destroy.
Like mighty rivers, with resistless force
The passions rage, obstructed in their course;
Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore,
And drown those virtues which they fed before. 60

And sure, the deadliest foe to virtue's flame.
Our worst of evils, is perverted sJiame,
Beneath this load what abject numbers groan,
Th' entangled slaves to folly not their own !
Meanly, by fashionable fear oppress'd,
We seek our virtues in each other's breast;
Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign vice.
Another's weakness, interest, or caprice.
Each fool to low ambition, poorly great.
That pines in splendid wretchedness of state, 70

Tired in the treacherous chase, would nobly yield.
And, but for shame, like Sylla, quit the field :
The demon Shame paints strong the ridicule, -
And whispers close, "Tl ; world will call you fool."

Behold yon wretch, by impious fashion driven.
Believes and trembles, while he scofls at Heaven, e


By weakness Strang, and bold through fear alone.

He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown ;

Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod;

To man a ce)tWfl?r<?, and a brave to God. 80

Faith, Justice, Heaven itself, now quit their hold,
When to false fame the captived heart is sold:
Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato died ;
Nought could subdue his virtue; but his pi*ide.
Hence chsLSte tjucretia^s innocence, betray'd.
Fell by that llonour which was meant its aid.
Thus virtue sihks beneath unnunlber'd woes,
When passions, born her friends, revolt her foes.

Hence Satire's power: 'tis her corrective part.
To calm the wild disorders of the heart. 90

She points the -^rdtiotig height where glory Ees,
And teaches mad Ambition to be wise;
In the dark bosom waSies the fair desire,
Draws good'fromill, a brighter flame from fire;
Strips blatfc' 6bpression of her gay disguise.
And bids the hag^ iti native horror rise;
Strikes towering Pride, and lawless Rapine d6ad.
And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.

Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagined power.
Though oft she mourns those ills she cannot cure. 100
The worthy, court her, and the worthless, fear;
•Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere.
Her awful voice the vain and vile obey.
And every foe to wisdom feels her sway.
Smarts, pedants, as she smiles, no more* are vain; *
Desponding fops resign the clouded eane:
Hush'd at her voice, pert Polly's self is still.
And Dullness wonders while she drops her quill.
Like the arm'd bee, with art most subtly true,
From poisonous vice she draws a healing dew. 110

Weak are. the ties that civil arts can find,
"To quell the ferment of the tainted mind:
Cunning evades, securely wrapp'd in wiles ; ;

And force, strong sinew'd, rends th' unequal ^fe^oTp


The stream of vice impetuous drives along.

Too deep for policy, for po^er too strong.

Even fair Religion, native of the skies,

Scorn'd by the crowd, seeks refugd" with the wise;

The crowd with laughter spurns her awful train.

And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain. 120

But Satire's shaft can pierce the hardened breast;.

She plays a ruling passion on the rest;

Undaunted storms the battery of his pride,

And awes the brave that earth and heaven defied.

When fell Corruption by her vassals crown'd.

Derides fall'n Justice, prostrate on the ground^

Swift to redress an injured people's groan,

Bold Satire shakes the tyrant on her throne;

Powerful as death, defies the sordid train.

And slaves and sycophants surround in vain. 130

But with the friends of vice, the foes of satire,
All truth is spleen: all just reproof, ill-natur^,

Well may they dread the Muse's fatal «kill ;
Well may they tremble when she draws her quill ;
Her magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's spear.
Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear;
Bids vice and folly take their natural shapes, .
Turns duchesses to strumpets, beaux tp apes;
Drags the vile whisperer from his dark abode.
Till all the demon starts up from the toad. 140

^ Oh, sordid maxim ! form'd to screen the vile;
That true good-nature still must wear a smile !
In frowns array'd, her beauties stronger rise.
When love of virtue wakes her scorn of vice:
Where Justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save;
And 'tis the law's good-nature hangs the knave.
Who combats virtue's foe, is virtue's friend:
Then judge of Satire's merit by her end: *
To Guilt alone her vengeance stands confined,
The object of her love is all mankind. 150

Scarce more the friend of man, the wise must own.
Even Allen's bounteous hand, than Satire's frown :>


This to chastise, as that to bless, was given;
Alike the faithful ministers of Heaven.

Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent:
Though strong th' example, weak the punishment.
They least are pqiin'd, who merit satire most ;
Folly the LaureatSy vice was Chartres* boast:
Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name
Of fools and knaves, already dead to shame? 16C

Oft Satire acts the faithful surgeon's part ;
Generous and kind, though painful, is her art:
With caution bold, she only strikes to heal;
. Though Folly raves to break the friendly steel.
Then sure no fault impartial Satire knows,

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