SOME of my friends, (for friends I must suppose i
All who, not daring to appear my foes,
Feign great good-will, and, not more full of spite
Than full of craft, under false colours fight)
Some of my friends, (so lavishly I print)
As more in sorrow than in anger, hint
(Tho' that indeed will scarce admit a doubt)
That I shall run my stock of genius out,
My no great stock, and, publishing so fast,
Must needs become a bankrupt at the last.
"The husbandman, to spare a thankful soil, "Which rich in disposition pays his toil
"More than an hundred-fold, which swells his store "Ev'n to his wish, and makes his barns run o'er, "By long experience taught, who teaches best, 15 "Foregoes his hopes a while and gives it rest ; "The land allow'd it's losses to repair, "Refresh'd, and full in strength, delights to wear A second youth, and to the farmer's eyes "Bids richer crops and double harvests rise.
"Nor think this practice to the earth confin'd, "It reaches to the culture of the mind.
The mind of man craves rest, and cannot bear, "Tho' next in pow'r to God's, continual care. "Genius himself (nor here let Genius frown) 25 "Must, to ensure his vigour, be laid down,
"And fallow'd well: had Churchill known but this, "Which the most slight observer scarce could miss, "He might have flourish'd twenty years or more, "Tho' now, alas! poor man! worn out in four," 30 Recover'd from the vanity of youth
I feel, alas! this melancholy truth,
Thanks to each cordial, each advising friend,
And am, if not too late, resolv'd to mend,
Resolv'd to give some respite to my pen,
Apply myself once more to books and men,
View what is present, what is past review,
And, my old stock exhausted, lay in new.
For twice six moons, (let winds, turn'd porters, bear
This oath to heav'n) for twice six moons, I swear,
No Muse shall tempt me with her Siren lay,
Nor draw me from improvement's thorny way;
Verse I abjure, nor will forgive that friend
Who in my hearing shall a rhyme commend.
It cannot be whether I will or no, Such as they are, my thoughts in measure flow. Convinc'd, determin'd, I in prose begin; But ere I write one sentence verse creeps in, And taints me thro' and thro?! By this good light In verse I talk by day, I dream by night! If now and then I curse, my curses chime, Nor can I pray unless I pray in rhyme. Ev'n now I err, in spite of common sense, And my confession doubles my offence. ·
Rest then, my Friends !-spare, spare your pre
And be your slumbers not less sound than death;
Perturbed spirits, rest, nor thus appear
To waste your counsels in a spendthrift's ear;
On your grave lessons I cannot subsist,
Nor ev'n in verse become economist.
Rest then, my Friends! nor, hateful to my eyes,
Let Envy in the shape of Pity rise,
To blast me ere my time. With patience wait, ('Tis not long interval) propitious Fate
Shall glut your pride, and ev'ry son of phlegm 65
Find ample room to censure and condemn.
Read some three hundred lines, (no easy task,
But probably the last that I shall ask)
And give me up for ever. Wait one hour,
Nay, not so much-revenge is in your pow'r, 70
And ye may cry, ere Time hath turn'd his glass,
Lo! what we prophesy'd is come to pass.
Let those who poetry in poems claim
Or not read this or only read to blame;
Let those who are by fiction's charms enslav'd 75
Return me thanks for half-a-crown well sav'd;
Let those who love a little gall in rhyme
Postpone their purchase now, and call next time;
Let those who, void of nature, look for art,
Take up their money, and in peace depart ;
Let those who energy of diction prize
For Billinsgate quit Flexney, and be wise :
Here is no lie, no gall, no art, no force,
Mean' are the words, and such as come of course,
The subject not less simple than the Jay;
A plain unlabour'd journey of a Day.
Far from me now be ev'ry tuneful maid,
I neither ask nor can receive their aid.
Pegasus, turn'd into a common hack,
Alone I jog, and keep the beaten track,
Nor would I have the Sisters of the Hill
Behold their bard in such a dishabille :
Absent, but only absent for a time,
Let them caress some dearer son of rhyme;
Let them, as far as decency permits,
Without suspicion play the fool with wits,
'Gainst fools be guarded; 't is a certain rule
Wits are safe things; there's danger in a fool.
Let them, tho' modest, Gray more modest woo;
Let them with Mason bleat, and bay, and coo; 100
Let them with Franklin, proud of some small Greek,
Make Sophocles disguis'd in English speak;
Let them with Glover o'er Medea doze;
Let them with Dodsley wail Cleone's woes,
Whilst he, fine-feeling creature! all in tears, I
Melts as they melt, and weeps with weeping peer-
Let them with simple Whitehead, taught to cree
Silent and soft, lay Fontenelle asleep;
Let them with Browne † contrive, no vulgar tri
To cure the dead and make the living sick;
He wrote an ode called The Cure of Saul,
Let them, in charity, to Murphy give
Some old French piece, that he may steal and live;
Let them with antic Foote subscriptions get,
And advertise a summer-house of wit.
Thus, or in any better way they please, With these great men, or with great men like these, Let them their appetite for laughter feed ;
I on my journey all alone proceed.
If fashionable grown, and fond of pow'r, With hum'rous Scots let them disport their hour;120 Let them dance, fairy-like, round Ossian's tomb; Let them forge lies and histories for Hume : Let them with Hume, the very prince of verse! Make something like a tragedy in Erse;
Under dark allegory's flimsy veil
Let them with Ogilvie spin out a tale
Of rueful length; let them plain things obscure,
Debase what 's truly rich, and what is poor
Make poorer still, by jargon most uncouth;
With ev'ry pert prim prettiness of youth,
Born of false Taste, with Fancy (like a child
Not knowing what it cries for) running wild,
With bloated style, by Affectation taught,
With much false colouring and little thought,
With phrases strange, and dialect decreed
By Reason never to have pass'd the Tweed,
With words which Nature meant each other's foe,
Forc'd to compound whether they will or no;
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