Who copies your's, or Oxford's better part, But all our praises why should lords engross? 260 [270] On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, Of mimick'd statesmen, and their merry king. 310 No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes, and gives. 'Twas very want that sold them for two pound. Is there a variance? enter but his door, B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue P. Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This man possest-five hundred pounds a-year. 280 Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud courts, withdraw your blaze! Ye little stars! hide your diminish'd rays. 290 B. And what? no monument, inscription, stone? In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, 300 Trace humble worth beyond Sabrina's shore, The register inrolls him with his poor, 320 330 What! ev'n deny'd a cordial at his end, 340 P. Where London's column, pointing at the skies A plain good man, and Balaam was his name; [350 | He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes: An honest factor stole a gem away: VARIATION. Ver. 337. In the former editions, That knotty point, my lord, shall I discuss, Behold sir Balaam, now a man of spirit, Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit; What late he call'd a blessing, now was wit, And God's good providence, a lucky hit. Things change their titles, as our manners turn: His compting-house employ'd the Sunday morn: Seldom at church, ('twas such a busy life) But duly sent his family and wife. There (so the devil ordain'd) one Christmas-tide My good old lady catch'd a cold, and dy'd. [380 [390 A nymph of quality admires our knight; He marries, bows at court, and grows polite: Leaves the dull cits, and joins (to please the fair) The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air: First, for his son a gay commission buys, Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies: His daughter flaunts a viscount's tawdry wife; She bears a coronet and p-x for life. In Britain's senate be a seat obtains, And one more pensioner St. Stephen gains. My lady falls to play: so bad her chance, He must repair it; takes a bribe from France; The house impeach him, Coningsby harangues; The court forsake him, and sir Balaam hangs : Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown: 400 The devil and the king divide the prize, And sad sir Balaam curses God and dics. EPSSTLE IV. TO RICHARD BOYLE, EARL OF BURLINGTON. ARGUMENT. OF THE USE OF RICHES. Tu vanity of expense in people of wealth and quality. The abuse of the word taste, ver. 13. That the first principle and foundation in this, as in every thing else, is good sense, ver. 40. The chief proof of it is to follow Nature, even in works of mere luxury and elegance. Instanced in architecture and gardening, where all must be adapted to the genius and use of the place, and the beauties not forced into it, but resulting from it, ver. 50. How men are disappointed in their most expensive undertakings, for want of this true foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best examples and rules will be but perverted into something burthensome and ridiculous, ver. 65, &c. to 92. A description of the false taste of magnificence; the first grand errour of which is, to imagine that greatness consists in the size and dimension, instead of the proportion and harmony of the whole, ver. 97, and the second, either in joining together parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the repetition of the same too frequently, ver. 105, &c. A word or two of false taste in books, in music, in painting, even in preaching and prayer, and lastly in entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet Providence is justified in giving wealth to be squandered in this manner, since it is dispersed to the poor and laborious part of mankind, ver. 169, [recurring to what is laid down in the first book, Ep. ii. and in the Epistle preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper objects of magnificence, and a proper field for the expense of great men, ver. 177, &c. and finally the great and public works which become a prince, ver. 191, to the end. EPISTLE IV. THE extremes of avarice and profusion being treated of in the foregoing epistle; this takes up one particular branch of the latter, the vanity of expense in people of wealth and quality; and is therefore a corollary to the preceding, just as the epistle on the characters of women is to that of the knowledge and characters of men. It is equally remarkable for exactness of method with the rest. But the nature of the subject, which is less philosophical, makes it capable of being analyzed in a much narrower compass. 'Tis strange, the miser should his cares employ For what has Virro painted, built, and planted? You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse, And pompous buildings once were things of use. Yet shall (my lord) your just, your noble rules Fill half the land with imitating fools; Who random drawings from your sheets shall take And of one beauty many blunders make; VARIATION. After ver. 22. in the MS. Must bishops, lawyers, statesmen, have the skill To build, to plant, judge paintings, what you will? Then why not Kent as well our treaties draw, Bridgman explain the gospel, Gibbs the law? Load some vain church with old theatric state, That, lae'd with bits of rustic, makes a front. 30 40 At Timon's villa let us pass a day, Where all cry out, "W. at sums are thrown away!” Greatness, with Timon, dwells in such a draught No artful wildness to perplex the scene; 110 120 50 Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees; To build, to plant, whatever you intend, To rear the column, or the arch to bend, To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot; In all, let Nature never be forgot: But treat the goddess like a modest fair, Nor over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare; Let not each beauty every where be spy'd, Where half the skill is decently to hide. He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds, Surprises, varies, and conceals the bounds. Consult the genius of the place in all; That tells the waters or to rise, or fall; Ör helps th' ambitious hill the heavens to scale, Or scoops in circling theatres the vale; Calls in the country, catches opening glades, Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades; Now breaks, or now directs th' intending lines; Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs. Still follow sense, of every art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole, Spontaneous beauties all around advance, Start cv'n from difficulty, strike from chance; Nature shall join you; Time shall make it grow A work to wonder at-perhaps a Stow. 60 70 80 [light; Without it, proud Versailles! thy glory falls; And Nero's terraces desert their walls: The vast parterres a thousand hands shall make, Lo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake: Or cut wide views through mountains to the plain, You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat again. Ev'n in an ornament its place remark, Nor in an hermitage set Dr. Clarke. Behold Villario's ten years toil complete; His quincunx darkens, his espaliers meet; The wood supports the plain, the parts unite, And strength of shade contends with strength of A waving glow the bloomy beds display, Blushing in bright diversities of day, With silver-quivering rills meander'd o'erEnjoy them, you! Villario can no more; Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yield, He finds at last he better likes a field. Through his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus Or sate delighted in the thickening shade, [stray'd, With annual joy the reddening shoots to greet, [90 Or see the stretching branches long to meet ! His son's fine taste an opener Vista loves, Foe to the Dryads of his father's groves; One boundless green, or flourish'd carpet views, With all the mournful family of yews: The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks made, Now sweep those alleys they were born to shade. [130 My lord advances with majestic mien, His study with what authors, is it stor❜d? And now the chapel's silver bell you hear, 140 150 But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call; A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall: The rich buffet well colour'd serpents grace, And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face. Is this a dinner? this a genial room? No 'tis a temple, and a hecatomb. A solemn sacrifice perform'd in state, You drink by measure, and to minutes eat. So quick retires each flying course, you'd swear Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were there. Between each act the trembling salvers ring, [160 From soup to sweet-wine, and God bless the King. In plenty starving, tantaliz'd in state, And complaisantly help'd to all I hate, Treated, caress'd, and tir'd, I take my leave, Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve; I curse such lavish cost, and little skill, And swear no day was ever pass'd so ill. Yet hence the poor are cloth'd, the hungry fed; Health to himself, and to his infants bread, The labourer bears: What his hard heart denies, His charitable vanity supplies. Another age shall see the golden ear Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre, Deep harvest bury all his pride has plann'd, And laughing Ceres re-assume the land. Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil? Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle. 'Tis use alone that sanctifies expense, And splendour borrows all her rays from sense. You too proceed! make falling arts your care, Tuts was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr. Addison intended to publish his book of medals; it was some time before he was secretary of state; but not published till Mr. Tickell's edition of his works; at which time his verses on Mr. Craggs, which conclude the poem, were added, viz. in 1720. As the third epistle treated of the extremes of avarice and profusion; and the fourth took up one particular branch of the latter, namely, the vanity of expense in people of wealth and quality, and was therefore a corollary to the third; so this treats of one circumstance of that vanity, as it appears in the common collectors of old coins; and is, therefore, a corollary to the fourth. SEE the wild waste of all-devouring years ; Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, Perhaps, by its own ruins sav'd from flame, Ambition sigh'd she found it vain to trust Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more! The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine : Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine: Her gods and godlike heroes rise to view, And all her faded garlands bloom anew. Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage : These pleas'd the fathers of poetic rage: The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, And art reflected images to art. Oh, when shall Britain, conscious of her claim, Stand emulous of Greck and Roman fame? In living medals see her wars enroll'd, And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold? Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face; There, warriors frowning in historic brass: Then future ages with delight shall see How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree; Or in fair series laurel'd bards be shown, A Virgil there, and here an Addison. Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine) On the cast ore, another Pollio, hine: With aspect open shall erect his head, And round the orb in lasting notes be read, "Statesman, best friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the Muse he lov'd" R EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT: BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST PUBLICATION OF THIS EPISTLE. This paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begu many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some persons of rank and fortune [the authors of Verses to the Imitator of Horace, and of an Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton-Court] to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge) but my person, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so awkward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this epistle. If it have any thing pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the truth and the sentiment; and if any thing offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to ofiend, the vicious or the ungenerous. All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain 21 39 Friend to my life! (which did you not prolong, Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true: but I have, for the most part, spared their names; and they may escape being laughed at. if they please. I would have some of them to know, it was owing to the request of the learned and candid friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs as they have done of mine. ever, I shall have this advantage, and honour, on my side, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, since a nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness. up P.SHUT, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd I said, [glide. They pierce my thickets, through my grot they Is there a parson, much bemus'd in beer, A clark, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, walls? " 66 All my demurs but double his attacks: 50 70 Sir, let me see your works and you no more." 'Tis sung, when Midas' ears began to spring, (Midas, a sacred person and a king) His very minister, who spy'd them first, (Some say his queen) was forc'd to speak, or burst. And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case, When every coxcomb perks them in my face? VARIATIONS. After ver. 20, in the MS. Is there a bard in durance? turn them free, Dear doctor, tell me, is not this a curse? If you refuse, he goes, as fates incline, Cibber and I are luckily no friends. |