The whisper that, to greatness still too near, A. But why insult the poor, affront the great? 360 P. A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry state; Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail; 365 370 So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door, Has drunk with Cibber, nay, has rhym'd for Moore. Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply? Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lie. 375 To please a mistress one aspers'd his life; He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife : Let Budgel charge, low Grub-street on his quill, And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will; Let the two Curls of town and court, abuse 380 His father, mother, body, soul, and Muse. It was a sin to call our neighbour Fool; That harmless mother thought no wife a whore; Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore! 385 Unspotted names, and memorable long! Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause, And better got than Bestia's from the throne. 390 The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age; No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie. Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, No language but the language of the heart. By nature honest, by experience wise, Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise; His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown, His death was instant, and without a groan. O grant me thus to live, and thus to die! Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I. O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine! Be no unpleasing melancholy mine; Me let the tender office long engage To rock the cradle of reposing age, 395 400 404 With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, 410 Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed of Death, Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, And keep awhile one parent from the sky! On cares like these, if length of days attend, May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend! Preserve him social, chearful, and serene, 416 And just as rich as when he serv'd a Queen! · THE occasion of publishing these Imitations was the clamour raised on some of my Epistles. An answer from Horace was both more full and of more dignity than any I could have made in my own person; and the example of much greater freedom in so eminent a divine as Dr. Donne, seemed a proof with what indignation and contempt a Christian may treat vice or folly in ever so low, or ever so high a station. Both these authors were acceptable to the princes and ministers, under whom they lived. The Satires of Dr. Donne I versified at the desire of the Earl of Oxford, while he was Lord Treasurer, and of the Duke of Shrewsbury, who had been Secretary of State; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflection on those they served in. And indeed there is not in the world a greater error than that which fools are so apt to fall into, and knaves with good reason to encourage, the mistaking a satirist for a libeller; whereas, to a true satirist, nothing is so odious as a libeller; for the same reason as to a man truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a hypocrite: WHOEVER expects a paraphrase of Horace, or a faithful copy of his genius, or manner of writing, in these Imitations, will be much disappointed. Our Author uses the Roman poet for little more than his canvas; and if the old design or colouring chance to suit his purpose, it is well; if not, he employs his own, without scruple or ceremony. Hence it is he is so frequently serious, where Horace is in jest, and at ease, where Horace is disturbed. In a word, he regulates his movements no farther on his original, than was necessary for his concurrence in promoting their common plan of reformation of manners. Had it been his purpose merely to paraphrase an ancient satirist, he had hardly made choice of Horace : with whom, as a poet, he held little in common, besides a comprehensive knowledge of life and manners, and a certain curious felicity of expression, which consists in using the simplest language with dignity, and the most ornamented with ease. For the rest, his harmony and strength of numbers, |