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Nor ought a genius less than his that writ,
Attempt tranflation; for transplanted wit,
All the defects of air and foil doth fhare,
And colder brains like colder climates are:
In vain they toil, fince nothing can beget
A vital fpirit but a vital heat.
That servile path thou nobly dost decline
Of tracing word by word, and line by line.
Those are the labour'd births of flavish brains,
Not the effect of poetry, but pains;
Cheap vulgar arts, whofe narrowness affords
No flight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at words.
A new and nobler way thou doft pursue
To make tranflations and tranflators too.
They but preferve the afhes, thou the flame,
True to his fenfe, but truer to his fame.
Fording his current, where thou find'ft it low,
Let'ft in thine own to make it rife and flow;
Wifely reftoring whatfoever grace
It loft by change of times, or tongues, or place.
Nor fetter'd to his numbers and his times,
Betray'ft his music to unhappy rhymes.
Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength
Stretch'd and diffolv'd into unfinew'd length:
Yet, after all, (left we should think it thine)
Thy fpirit to his circle doft confine.
New names, new dreffings, and the modern caft,
Some scenes, fome perfons alter'd, and out-fac'd
The world, it were thy work; for we have known
Some thank'd and prais'd for what was less their own.
That mafter's hand which to the life can trace
The airs, the lines, and features of the face,
May with a free and bolder ftroke express
A vary'd pofture, or a flattering drefs;
He could have made those like, who made the reft,
But that he knew his own defign was beft.
POOL.TO thee, dear Tom, myfelf addreffing,
Moft queremoniously confeffing,
That I of late have been compreffing.
Destitute of my wonted gravity,
I perpetrated arts of pravity,
In a contagious concavity.
Making efforts with all my puissance,
For fome venereal rejouiffance,
I got (as one may fay) a nuyfance.
KIL. Come leave this fooling, coufin Pooly,
And in plain English tell us truly
Why under th' eyes you look fo bluely?
'Tis not your hard words will avail you, Your Latin and your Greek will fail you, Till you speak plainly what doth ail you.
When young, you led a life monastic,
And wore a veft ecclefiaftic;
Now in your age you grow fantastic.
POOL. Without more preface or formality,
A female of malignant quality
Set fire on label of mortality.
The fæces of which ulceration
Brought o'er the helm a distillation,
Through th' inftrument of propagation.
KIL. Then coufin, (as I guess the matter)
You have been an old fornicator,
And now are shot 'twixt wind and water.
Your ftyle has fuch an ill complexion,
That from your breath I fear infection,
That even your mouth needs an injection.
You that were once fo oeconomic,
Quitting the thrifty style laconic,
Turn prodigal in makeronic.
Yet be of comfort, I shall send-a
Perfon of knowledge, who can mend-a
Disaster in your nether end-a---
But you that are a man of learning,
So read in Virgil, so difcerning,
Methinks towards fifty fhould take warning.
Once in a pit you did * miscarry,
That danger might have made one wary ;
This pit is deeper than the quarry.
POOL. Give me not such disconfolation,
Having now cur'd my
To ulcerate my reputation.
Though it may gain the ladies favour,
Yet it may raise an evil favour
Upon all grave and ftaid behaviour.
And I will rub my Mater Pia,
To find a rhyme to Gonorrheia,
*Hunting near Paris, he and his horse fell into a quarry.
A MODERN AUTHOR upon the GAME of CHESS.
A Tablet ftood of that abfterfive tree,
Where Æthiop's fwarthy bird did build her nest, Inlaid it was with Libyan ivory,
Drawn from the jaws of Africk's prudent beast.
Two kings like Saul, much taller than the reft,
Their equal armies draw into the field;
Till one take th' other prifoner they conteft;
Courage and fortune must to conduct yield.
This game the Persian Magi did invent,
The force of Eastern wisdom to exprefs;
From thence to busy Europeans fent,
And styl❜d by modern Lombards penfive Chefs.
Yet fome that fled from Troy to Rome report,
Penthefilea Priam did oblige;
Her Amazons, his Trojans taught this fport,
To pass the tedious hours of ten years fiege.
There she presents herself, whilft kings and peers
Look gravely on whilst fierce Bellona fights;
Yet maiden modesty her motions steers,
Nor rudely skips o'er bishops heads like knights.