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Lo, sneering Goode, half malice and half whim, '53
A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim..
Each cygnet sweet, of Bath and Tunbridge race,
Whose tuneful whistling makes the waters, pass;
Each songster, riddler, every nameless name,
All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame.
Some strain in rhyme: the muses, on their racks,
Scream like the winding of ten thousand jacks:
Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or check,
Break Priscian's head, and Pegasus's neck;
Down, down they larum, with impetuous whirl,
The Pindars, and the Miltons of a Curl.
Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia

bowls, 165 And makes nighthideous—Answer him, ye owls! 165

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REMARKS.
You ask why Roome diverts you with his jokes.
Yet, if he writes, is dull as other folks.
You wonder at it-This, sir, is the case,

The jest is lost unless he prints his face.
Popple was the author of some vile plays and pamphlets.
He published abuses on our author in a paper called 'The
Prompter.

153 Goode. An ill-natured critic, who writ a satire on our anthor, called The Mock Æsop, and many anonymous libels in newspapers, for hire.

W. 165 - Ralph.1 James Ralph, a name inserted after the first editions, not known to our author till he writ a swearingpiece ealled Sawney, very abusive of Dr. Swift, Mr. Gay, and himself. These lines alluded to a thing of his entitled Night, a poem. This low writer attended his own works with panegyrics in the Journals, and once in particular praised himself highly above Mr. Addison, in wretched remarks upon that author's account of English Poets printed

IMITATIONS. 166 And makes night hideous --]

« Visit thus the glimpes of the moon,
Making night hideous.'

SHAKS.

** Sense, speech, and measure, living tongues and

dead, Let all give way and Morris may be read. Flow, Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer, beer, 169 Though stale, not ripe, though thin, yet never clear; So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull; Heady, not strong ; o'erflowing, though not full.

“Ah, Dennis! Gildon, ah! what ill-starr'd rage Divides a friendship long confirm'd by age ? Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, But fool with fool is barbarous civil war. Embrace, embrace, my sons! be foes no more! 177 Nor glad vile poets with true critics' gore.

Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd ;179 How like in manners, and how like in mind! .

REMARKS. in a London Journal, Sept. 17, 1728. He was wholly illite. rate, and knew no language, not even French. Being advised to read the rules of dramatic poetry before he began a play, he smiled, and replied, “Shakspeare writ without rules. He ended at last in the common sink of all such writers, a political newspaper, to which he was recommended by his friend Arnall, and received a small pittance for pay.

W.
IMITATIONS.
169 Flow, Welsted, flow! &c.] Parody on Denham,
Cooper's Hill :

"O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme:

Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull: • Strong without rage; without o'erflowing full !" 171 Embrace, embrace, my sons! be foes no more ?) VIRG. Æn. VI.

Ne tanta animis assuescite bella,
Neu patriæ validas in viscera vertite vires.

Tuque prior, tu parce-sanguis meus!
179 Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd.]

Equal in wit, and equally polite,
Sball this a Pasquin, that a Grambler write ;
Like are their merits, like rewards they share,
That shines a consul, this commissioner.'
· "But who is he, in closet close y-pent, 18$
Of sober face, with learned dust besprent)
• Right well mine eyes årede thy myster wight,
On parchment scrapes y-fed, and Wormins hight,
To future ages may thy dulness last,
As thou preserv'st the dnlness of the past !

“There, dim in clonds, the poring scholiasts mark,
Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark,
A Jumberhouse of books in every bead,
For ever reading, never to be read!

But, where each science lifts its modern type, History her pot, divinity her pipe, While proud philosophy repines to show, Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below, Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo! Henley stands, 199 Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands.

REMARKS. 199 - lo! Henley stands, &c.] J. Henley, the orator; be preached on the Sundays upon theological matters, aud on the Wednesdays upon all other sciences. Each anditor paid one shilling. He declaimed some years against the greatest persons, and occasionally did our author that holiour. W.

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How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue !
How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung!
Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain,
While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson, preach in
O great restorer of the good old stage, [vain. 204
Preacher at once, and Zany of thy age!
O worthy thou of Egypt's wise abodes,
A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods!
But fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall,
Meek modero faith to inurder, hack, and mawl;
And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise,
In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days. 212

• Yet, oh, my sons! a father's words atteyd :
(So may the fates preserve the ears you lend)
'Tis yours a Bacon or a Locke to blame,
A Newton's genius, or a Milton's flame :
But, oh! with one, immortal one, dispense,
The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's sense.
Content, each emanation of his fires
That beams on earth, each virtue he inspires,
Each art he prompts, each charm he can create,
Whate'er he gives, are giv'n for you to hate.
Persist, by all divine in man upaw'd,
But“ learn, ye Dunces! not to scorn your God”.: 224

REMARKS. W4 -Sherlock,--Hare,-Gibson.] Bishops of Salisbury, Chichester, and London; whose Sermons and Pastoral Letters did honour to their country as well as stations. *

219 of Toland and Tindat, see Buok li. ver. 399, Thomas Woolston was an impious madman, who wrote, in a most insolent style, against the miracles of the Gospel. W.

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Thus he, for then a ray of reason stole .. . Half through the solid darkness of his son!; *** But soon the cloud return'd—and thus the sire: “See now what Dulness and her sons admire! See what the charms that smite the simple heart, Not touch'd by nature, and not reach'd by art,"

His never-blushing head he turn'd aside, (Not half so pleas'd when Goodman prophesied) And look'd, and saw a sable sorcerer rise, Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies : All sudden, gorgons hiss, and dragons glare, And ten-born'd fiends and giants rush to war: Hell rises, beaven descends, and dance on earth : 237 Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth, A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, Till one wide conflagration swallows all.

Thence a new world to nature's laws unknown, Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own ; Another Cynthia her new journey runs, And other planets circle other suns. 244 The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the

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And last, to give the whole creation grace,
Lo! one vast egg produces hụman race.

REMARKS. 237 These absurdities were actually brought on the stage by Theobald, in his Rape of Proserpine ; but they were never encouraged by Cibber.

IMITATIONS. 244 And other planets.] Solemque suym, sua sidera norunt.'

VIRG. Æn. VI. 346 Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies.]

Delphinum sylvis appingit,

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