Far more, at once, than others comprehend: } 90 Whate'er within this _sacred Hall_ you find, } Whate'er will _lodge_ in your _capacious Mind_ } Let _Judgment_ sort, and skilful _Method_ bind; } And as from these you draw your antient Store Daily supply the _Magazine_ with more. Furnish'd with such _Materials_ he'll excel Who when he _works_ is sure to work 'em _well_; This ART alone, as _Nature_ that bestows, And in _Perfection_ both, th' accomplish'd _Verser_ knows. Knows to _persuade_, and how to _speak_, and when; 100 The _Rules of Life_, and _Manners_ knows and _Men_: Those _narrow Lines_ which _Good_ and _Ill_ divide; [Sidenote: _Learning_.] And by what _Balance Just_ and _Right_ are try'd: How _Kindred-Things_ with _Things_ are closely join'd; } How _Bodies_ act, and by what _Laws_ confin'd, } Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' _Universal Mind_. } When the moist _Kids_ or burning _Sirius_ rise; } Through what ambiguous Ways _Hyperion_ flies, } And marks our _Upper_ or the _Nether Skies_. } He knows those _Strings_ to _touch_ with artful Hand 110 Which rule Mankind, and all the World command: What _moves_ the _Soul_, and every secret _Cell_ Where _Pity, Love_, and all the _Passions_ dwell. The _Music_ of his _Verse_ can _Anger_ raise, Which with a softer _Stroak_ he _smooths_ and _lays_: Can _Emulation, Terror_, all excite, _Compress_ the _Soul_ with _Grief_, or _swell_ with vast Delight. If this you can, your _Care_ you'll well bestow, And some new _Milton_ or a _Spencer_ grow; If not, a _Poet_ ne'er expect to be, 120 Content to _Rime_, like _D----y_ or like me. But here perhaps you'll stop me, and complain, To such _Impracticable Heights_ I strain A Poet's _Notion_, that if _This_ be _He_, There ne'er was one, nor e'er is like to be. --But soft, my Friend! may we not _copy_ well Tho far th' _Original_ our _Art_ excel? _Divine Perfection_ we our _Pattern_ make Th' _Idea_ thence of _Goodness_ justly take; But they who _copy_ nearest, still must fall 130 Immensely short of their _Original_; [Sidenote: _Converse_.] But _Wit_ and _Genius_, _Sense_ and _Learning_ join'd, Will all come short if _crude_ and _unrefin'd_; 'Tis CONVERSE only melts the stubborn _Ore_ And _polishes_ the _Gold_, too rough before: So _fierce_ the _Natural Taste_, 'twill ne'er b' endur'd, The _Wine_ is _strong_, but never rightly _cur'd_. [Sidenote: _Style_.] STYLE is the _Dress_ of _Thought_; a _modest_ Dress, _Neat_, but not _gaudy_, will true _Critics_ please: Not _Fleckno's Drugget_, nor a worse Extream 140 All daub'd with _Point_ and _Gold_ at every Seam: