Book IV. THE What can from such be hop'd, but a base brood CHASE. The panting wretch; till, breathless and astunn'd, Are amply crown'd; short pangs produce to light Has form'd them with her tongue, with pleasure All these The marks of their renown'd progenitors, If thy heart relent, Inwilling to destroy, a nurse provide, Of thy superfluous brood; she'll cherish kind If frolic now and playful they desert With some great title, and resounding name Of high import. But cautious here observe o check their youthful ardour, nor permit he unexperienc'd younker, immature, Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes Where dodging conies sport; his nerves unstrung, and strength unequal; the laborious chase hall stint his growth, and his rash forward youth Contract such vicious habits, as thy care And late correction never shall reclaim. When to full strength arriv'd, mature and bold, When instinct prompts, and when example guides. Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play, Thus youth is train'd; as curious artists bend hounds, O'er clogging fallows, o'er dry plaster'd roads, With pleaded reason and with well-turn'd speech, Unnumber'd accidents, and various ills, When Sirius reigns, and the Sun's parching beams But, this neglected, soon expect a change, Dumb, spiritless, benumb'd; till Death at last Or, if outrageous grown, behold, alas! If now perchance through the weak fence escap'd Far up the wind he roves, with open mouth Inhales the cooling breeze; nor man, nor beast, He spares implacable. The hunter-horse, Once kind associate of his sylvan toils, (Who haply now without the kennel's mound Crops the rank mead, and listening hears with joy The cheering cry, that morn and eve salutes His raptur'd sense,) a wretched victim falls. Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas! Shall thy fond master with his voice applaud Thy gentleness, thy speed; or with his hand Stroke thy soft dappled sides, as he cach day Visits thy stall, well pleas'd; no more shalt thou With sprightly neighings, to the winding horn, And the loud opening pack in concert join'd, Glad his proud heart. For oh! the secret wound Rankling inflames, he bites the ground, and dies! Hence to the village with pernicious haste Baleful he bends his course: the village flies Alarm'd; the tender mother in her arms Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barr'd, And flying curs, by native instinct taught, Shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands Hurry to arms, the rude militia seize Whate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns, From every quarter charge the furious foe, In wild disorder, and uncouth array: Till, now with wounds on wounds oppress'd and gor'd, At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last. The wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread th' event: Vulcan shall save when Esculapius fails. Here should the knowing Muse recount the means To stop this growing plague. And, here, alas! Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts Infallibility, but boasts in vain. On this depend, cach to his separate seat Sing, philosophic Muse, the dire effects See there distress'd he lies! parch'd up with thirst, Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble No more o'er craggy steep, through coverts thick reigns. Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoid The perilous debate! Ah! rouse up all Thy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground With careful step. Thy fires unquench'd preserve, As erst the vestal flames; the pointed steel In the hot embers hide; and if surpriz'd Thou feelst the deadly bite, quick urge it home Into the recent sore, and cauterize With pointed thorn, and briers intricate, Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their case, Rock'd by the restless brook, that draws aslope Its humid train, and laves their dark abodes. Where rages not Oppression? Where, alas! Is Innocence secure? Rapine and Spoil Haunt ev'n the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks, Rivers and ponds enclose the ravenous pike; He in his turn becomes a prey; on him Th' amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate Deserv'd: but tyrants know no bounds; nor spears That bristle on his back, defend the perch From his wide greedy jaws; nor burnish'd mail The yellow carp; nor all his arts can save Th' insinuating eel, that hides his head Beneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes The crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride, And beauty of the stream. Without remorse, This midnight pillager, ranging around, Insatiate swallows all. The owner mourns Th' unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears The subtle spoiler, of the beaver kind, Ye Naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside, Raise up your dripping heads above the wave, And hear our melody. Th' harmonious notes Float with the stream; and every winding creek And hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood Nods pendant, still improve from shore to shore Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts! [sounds What clamour loud! What gay heart-cheering Urge through the breathing brass their mazy way! Nor quires of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains The dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides In triumph o'er the deep. How greedily They snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade Rank-scenting clings! See! how the morning dews They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop Dispers'd, and leave a track oblique behind. Now on firm land they range; then in the flood They plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools Rustling they work their way: no hole escapes Their curious search. With quick sensation now The fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts, And joy redoubled bursts from every mouth In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk, That with its hoary head incurv'd salutes ; His rash assault. See, there escap'd, he flies and through, On pointed spears they lift him high in air; Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain : Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains, Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies. Rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance Above the wave, in sign of liberty Restor❜d; the cruel tyrant is no more. Rejoice secure and bless'd; did not as yet Remain some of your own rapacious kind; And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles. O happy! if ye knew your happy state, Ye rangers of the fields; whom Nature boon Cheers with her smiles, and every element Conspires to bless. What, if no heroes frown From marble pedestals; nor Raphael's works, Nor Titian's lively tints, adorn our walls? Yet these the meanest of us may behold; And at another's cost may feast at will Our wondering eyes; what can the owner more? But vain, alas! is wealth, not grac'd with power The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome, And vistas opening to the wearied eye, Through all his wide domain; the planted grove, The shrubby wilderness, with its gay choir Of warbling birds, can't lull to soft repose Th' ambitious wretch, whose discontented soul Is harrow'd day and night; he mourns, he pines, Until his prince's favour makes him great. See, there he comes, th' exalted idol comes ! The circle 's form'd, and all his fawning slaves Devoutly bow to earth; from every mouth The nauseous flattery flows, which he returns With promises, that die as soon as born. Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place. Frown but the monarch; all his glories fade; He mingles with the throng, outcast, undon?, The pageant of a day; without one friend Not such our friends; for here no dark design, O happiness sincere! what wretch would groan Beneath the galling load of power, or walk Upon the slippery pavements of the great, Who thus could reign, unenvy'd and secure! Ye guardian powers who make mankind your care, Give me to know wise Nature's hidden depths, Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment read Th' expanded volume, and submiss adore That great creative Will, who at a word Spoke forth the wondrous scene. But if my soul To this gross clay confin'd flutters on Earth streams, Each towering hill, each humble vale below, Shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wake The lazy Morn, and glad th' horizon round. ALEXANDER This noble ample remuneration for his labour. work was published in separate volumes, each containing four books; and the produce of the subscription enabled him to take that house at Twickenham which he made so famous by his residence and decorations. He brought hither his father and mother; of whom the first parent died two years afterwards. The second long survived, to be comforted by the truly filial attentions of her son. About this period he probably wrote his Epistle from "Eloisa to Abelard," partly founded upon the extant letters of these distinguished persons. has rendered this one of the most impressive poems of which love is the subject; as it is likewise the most finished of all his works of equal length, in The exagpoint of language and versification. geration, however, which he has given to the most impassioned expressions of Eloisa, and his deviations from the true story, have been pointed out by Mr. Berrington in his lives of the two lovers. He His father, hence, was born in London in 1688. vho appears to have acquired wealth by trade, was Roman Catholic, and being disaffected to the Politics of King William, he retired to Binfield, in Windsor Forest, where he purchased a small house vith some acres of land, and lived frugally upon The fortune he had saved. Alexander, who was from nfancy of a delicate habit of body, after learning to ead and write at home, was placed about his eighth ear under the care of a Romish priest, who taught His naim the rudiments of Latin and Greek. ural fondness for books was indulged about this eriod by Ogilby's translation of Homer, and jandys's of Ovid's Metamorphoses, which gave him o much delight, that they may be said to have made im a poet. He pursued his studies under different At length he riests, to whom he was consigned. ecame the director of his own pursuits, the variety of which proved that he was by no means deficient n industry, though his reading was rather excursive han methodical. From his early years poetry was dopted by him as a profession, for his poetical eading was always accompanied with attempts at mitation or translation; and it may be affirmed hat he rose at once almost to perfection in this walk. His manners and conversation were equally beyond is years; and it does not appear that he ever culti-scription. He himself, however, translated twelve rated friendship with any one of his own age or condition. During the years in which he was chiefly engaged with the Iliad, he published several occasional works, to which he usually prefixed very elegant prefaces; but the desire of farther emolument induced him to extend his translation to the Odyssey, in which task he engaged two inferior hands, whom he paid out of the produce of a new sub books out of the twenty-four, with a happiness not inferior to his Iliad; and the transaction, conAfter the appearPope's Pastorals were first printed in a volume ducted in a truly mercantile spirit, was the source of Tonson's Miscellanies in 1709, and were generally of considerable profit to him. ance of the Odyssey, Pope almost solely made In idmired for the sweetness of the versification, and he lustre of the diction, though they betrayed a himself known as a satirist and moralist. 1728 he published the three first books of the want of original observation, and an artificial cast "Dunciad," a kind of mock heroic, the object of of sentiment: in fact, they were any thing rather which was to overwhelm with indelible ridicule In the mean time he was exerthan real pastorals. cising himself in compositions of a higher class; all his antagonists, together with some other authors and by his " Essay on Criticism," published two whom spleen or party led him to rank among the years afterwards, he obtained a great accession of dunces, though they had given him no personal reputation, merited by the comprehension of thought, offence. Notwithstanding that the diction and verthe general good sense, and the frequent beauty of sification of this poem are laboured with the greatest illustration which it presents, though it displays care, we shall borrow nothing from it. Its imagery In is often extremely gross and offensive; and irrimany of the inaccuracies of a juvenile author. 1712 his "Rape of the Lock," a mock heroic, tability, ill-nature, and partiality are so prominent He has, indeed, a claim to the made its first appearance, and conferred upon him through the whole, that whatever he gains as a poet the best title he possesses to the merit of invention. he loses as a man. The machinery of the Sylphs was afterwards added, character of a satirist in this production, but none an exquisite fancy-piece, wrought with unrivalled at all to that of a moralist. The other selected pieces, though not entirely skill and beauty. The "Temple of Fame," altered from Chaucer, though partaking of the embarrass-free from the same defects, may yet be tolerated; ments of the original plan, has many passages which may rank with his happiest efforts. In the year 1713, Pope issued proposals for publishing a translation of Homer's Iliad, the success of which soon removed all doubt of its making an accession to his reputation, whilst it afforded an and his noble work called the "Essay on Man," which may stand in the first class of ethical poems, does not deviate from the style proper to its topic. This piece gave an example of the poet's extraordinary power of managing argumentation in verse, and of compressing his thoughts into clauses of |