of the proportions of a building, without having read Vitruvius, or knowing any thing of the rules of architecture; but this, though it may fometimes be in the right, must be subject to many mistakes, and is certainly but a fuperficial knowledge; without entering into the art, the methods, and the particular excellencies of the whole compofure, in all the parts of it.

Besides my want of skill, I have another reason why I ought to fufpect myself, by reafon of the great affection I have for you; which might give too much bias to be kind to every thing that comes from you. But, after all, I must fay (and I do it with an old-fashioned fincerity), that I entirely approve of your tranflation of those pieces of Homer, both as to the verfification and the true sense that shines through the whole: nay, I am confirmed in my former application to you, and give me leave to renew it upon this occafion, that you would proceed in translating that incomparable poet, to make him speak good English, to drefs his admirable characters in your proper, fignificant, and expreffive conceptions, and to make his works as ufeful and instructive to this degenerate age, as he was to our friend Horace, when he read him at Prænefte : Qui, quid fit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, etc. I break off with that quid non? with which

I confefs I am charmed.

Upon

* Hence it appears that Sir W. Trumbull was the very first perfon that urged him to undertake a translation of the Iliad of Homer.

WARTON.

Upon the whole matter I intreat you to send this presently to be added to the Miscellanies, and I hope it will come time enough for that purpose.

I have nothing to fay of my Nephew B's obfervations, for he sent them to me so late, that I had not time to confider them; I dare fay he endeavoured very faithfully (though, he told me, very hastily) to execute your commands.

All I can add is, that if your excess of modefty fhould hinder you from publishing this Effay, I fhall only be forry that I have no more credit with you, to persuade you to oblige the public, and very particularly, dear Sir,

Your, etc.

LETTER III.

FROM SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL.

March 6, 1713.

I THINK a hafty fcribble fhows more what flows from the heart, than a letter after Balzac's manner in ftudied phrafes; therefore I will tell you as fast as I can, that I have received your favour of the 26th paft, with your kind prefent of the Rape of the

*I wifh our Author had attended to this obfervation.

Lock.

WARTON.

Lock. You have given me the truest satisfaction imaginable, not only in making good the juft opinion I have ever had of your reach of thought, and my Idea of your comprehenfive genius; but likewise in that pleasure I take as an Englishman to fee the French, even Boileau himself in his Lutrin, out-done in your poem *; for you defcend, leviore plectro, to all the nicer touches, that your own obfervation and wit furnish, on fuch a fubject as requires the finest strokes and the livelieft imagination. But I muft fay no more (though I could a great deal) on what pleases me fo much; and henceforth, I hope, you will never condemn me of partiality, fince I only swim with the stream, and approve of what all men of good tafte (notwithstanding the jarring of parties) muft and do univerfally applaud. I now come to what is of vast moment, I mean the preservation of your health, and beg of you earnestly to get out of all Tavern-company, and fly away tanquam ex incendio ț. What a misery is it for you to be deftroyed by the foolish kindness ('tis all one whether real or pretended) of those who are able to bear the poifon of bad wine, and to engage you in fo unequal a combat? As to Homer, by all

I can

* Nothing can be more just than this criticifm on the Rape of the Lock.

Every thing in the Letters of Sir William Trumbull evince the scholar, the man of taste, and the gentleman, mixed with the cleareft fenfe of propriety, and enforced in the language of Benevolence. Pope, having been perfuaded by Cromwell and Wycherley, that he was a young man of wit and spirit, so early began, moft probably, to exhibit this lowest proof of it!

I can learn, your bufinefs is done: therefore come away and take a little time to breathe in the country. I beg now for my own fake, and much more for yours; methinks Mr. has faid to you more than

once,

Heu fuge, nate dea, teque his, ait, eripe flammis!

I am

Your, etc.

LETTER IV.

TO SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL.

March 12, 1713.

THOUGH any thing you write is fure to be a pleafure to me, yet I muft own your last letter made me uneafy; you really ufe a ftyle of compliment, which I expect as little as I deferve it. I know 'tis a common opinion that a young scribbler is as ill pleased to hear truth as a young lady. From the moment one fets up for an author, one must be treated as ceremoniously, that is as unfaithfully,

As a King's favourite, or as a King,

This proceeding, joined to that natural vanity which first makes a man an author, is certainly enough to render him a coxcomb for life. But I muft grant it

as a juft judgment upon poets, that they whofe chief pretence is Wit, fhould be treated as they themselves treat Fools, that is, be cajoled with praises. And, I believe, Poets are the only poor fellows in the world whom any body will flatter.

I would not be thought to fay this, as if the obliging letter you sent me deserved this imputation, only it put me in mind of it; and I fancy one may apply to one's friend what Cæfar faid of his wife;

It was not fufficient that he knew her to be chafte

himself, but she should not be fo much as fuf · pected.'

As to the wonderful discoveries, and all the good news you are pleased to tell me of myself, I treat it, as you who are in the fecret, treat common news, as groundless reports of things at a distance: which I, who look into the true fprings of the affair, in my own breast, know to have no foundation at all. For Fame, though it be (as Milton finely calls it) the last infirmity of noble minds, is fcarce fo ftrong a tempta

tion as to warrant our loss of time here: it can never make us lie down contentedly on a death-bed (as fome of the Ancients are faid to have done with that thought). You, Sir, have yourself taught me, that an easy fituation at that hour can proceed from no ambition less noble than that of an eternal felicity, which is unattainable by the strongest endeavours of the wit, but may be gained by the fincere intentions

of