Which law receiv'd, the chorus held his peace, His power of foully hurting made to cease.
Two rests, a short and long, th' Iambic frame;
A foot, whose swiftness gave the verse the name
Of Trimeter, when yet it was six-pac'd,
But mere Iambics all, from first to last.
Nor is't long since they did with patience take
Into their birth-right, and for fitness sake,
The steady Spondees; so themselves do bear
More slow, and come more weighty to the ear:
Provided, ne'er to yield, in any case
Of fellowship, the fourth or second place.
This foot yet, in the famous Trimeters
Of Accius and Ennius, rare appears :
So rare, as with some tax it doth engage
Those heavy verses sent so to the stage,
Of too much haste, and negligence in part,
Or a worse crime, the ignorance of art.
But every judge hath not the faculty
To note in poems breach of harmony;
And there is given too unworthy leave
To Roman poets. Shall I therefore weave
My verse at random, and licentiously?
Or rather, thinking all my faults may spy,
Grow a safe writer, and be wary driven
Within the hope of having all forgiven.
'Tis clear this way I have got off from blame,
But, in conclusion, merited no fame.
Take you the Greek examples for your light,
In hand, and turn them over day and night.
Our ancestors did Plautus' numbers praise,
And jests; and both to admiration raise
Too patiently, that I not fondly say,
If either you or I know the right way
To part scurrility from wit; or can
A lawful verse by th' ear or finger scan
Nil intentatum nostri liquere poëtæ,
Nec minimum meruêre decus, vestigia Græcu
Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta:
Vel qui prætertas, vel qui docuêre togatas.
Nec virtute foret, clarisve potentius armis,
Quàm lingua, Latium, si non offenderet unum-
quemque poëtarum lime labor, et mora. Vos, b
Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non
Multa dies, et multa litura coërcuit, atque
Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem.
Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte
Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poëtas
Democritus, bona pars non ungues ponere curat,
Non barbam; secreta petit loca, balnea vitat.
Nanciscetur enim pretium, nomenque poetæ,
Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam
Tonsori Licino commiserit. O ego lævus,
Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam.
Non alius faceret meliora poëmata: verùm,
Nil tanti est: ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum
Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi.
Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo;
Unde parentur opes: quid alat formetque poëtam :
Our poets too left nought unproved here;
Nor did they merit the less crown to wear,
In daring to forsake the Grecian tracts,
And celebrating our own home born facts;
Whether the garded tragedy they wrought,
Or 'twere the gowned comedy they taught.
Nor had our Italy more glorious been
In virtue, and renown of arms, than in
Her language, if the stay and care t' have
mended,
Had not our every poet like offended.
But you, Pompilius' offspring, spare you not
To tax that verse, which many a day and blot
Have not kept in; and (lest perfection fail)
Not ten times o'er corrected to the nail.
Because Democritus believes a wit
Happier than wretched art, and doth by it
Exclude all sober poets from their share
In Helicon; a great sort will not pare
Their nails, nor shave their beards, but to bye-
paths
Retire themselves, avoid the public baths;
For so they shall not only gain the worth,
But fame of poets, they think, if they come forth
And from the barber Licinus conceal
Their heads, which three Anticyras cannot heal.
OI left-witted, that purge every spring
For choler! if I did not, who could bring
Out better poems? but I cannot buy
My title at the rate, I'd rather, I,
Be like a whetstone, that an edge can put
On steel, though't self be dull, and cannot cut.
I writing nought myself, will teach them yet
Their charge and office, whence their wealth to
- fet,
What nourisheth, what formed, what begot
The poet, what becometh, and what not,
Quid deceat, quid non : quò virtus, quò ferat error.
Scribendi rectè sapere est et principium et fons.
Rem tibi Socratica poterunt ostendere chartæ :
Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur.
Qui didicit, patriæ quid debeat, et quid amicis:
Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus, et hospes :
Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium: quæ
Partes in bellum missi ducis, ille profectò
Reddere persone scit convenientia cuique.
Respicere exemplar vitæ, morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et veras hinc ducere voces.
Interdum speciosa locis, morataque rectè
Fabula, nullius Veneris, sine pondere, et arte,
Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur,
Quàm versus inopes rerum, nugæque canorœ.
Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo
Musa loqui, præter laudem, nullius avaris.
Romani pueri longis rationibus assem
Discunt in partes centum diducere. Dicat
Filius Albini, si de quincunce remota est
Uncia, quid superat? poteras dixisse triens: eu,
Rem poteris servare tuam: redit uncia: quid fit?
Semis: ad hæc animos arugo, et cura peculi,
Whither truth may, and whither error bring.
The very root of writing well, and spring
Is to be wise; thy matter first to know,
Which the Socratic writings best can show:
And where the matter is provided still,
There words will follow, not against their will.
He that hath studied well the debt, and knows
What to his country, what his friends he owes,
What height of love a parent will fit best,
What brethren, what a stranger, and his guest,
Can tell a statesman's duty, what the arts
And office of a judge are, what the parts
Of a brave chief sent to the wars: he can,
Indeed, give fitting dues to every man.
And I still bid the learned maker look
On life, and manners, and make those his book,
Thence draw forth true expressions. For some-
poem of no grace, weight, art, in rhymes With specious places, and being humour'd right, More strongly takes the people with delight, And better stays them there than all fine noise Of verse, mere matterless, and tinkling toys.
The muse not only gave the Greeks a wit, But a well-compass'd mouth to utter it. Being men were covetous of nought, but praise: Our Roman youths they learn the subtle ways How to divide into a hundred parts
A pound, or piece, by their long compting arts: There's Albin's son will say, Subtract an ounce From the five ounces, what remains? pronounce A third of twelve, you may; four ounces. Glad, He cries, good boy, thou'lt keep thine own. Now add
An ounce, what makes it then? the half-pound
Six ounces. O, when once the canker'd rust,
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