Their _Stronger Genius_ may o'er thine prevail: _Wit, Power_ and _Anger_ join'd but rarely fail. Tho _Eagles_ would not chuse to _hawk_ at _Flies_ } They'd _snap_ 'em, should their _buzzing Swarms_ arise } Importunate, and hurt their _Sun bright Eyes_. } Nor should the _Muses Birds_ at _random_ fly, And _strike_ at all, lest if they strike _they die_. Why should we still be _lazily content_ 260 With thredbare _Schemes_, and nothing _new_ invent? All _Arts_ besides _improve, Sea, Air_ and _Land_ } Are every day with _nicer Judgment_ scan'd, } And why should _this_ alone be at a _stand_? } Or _Nature_ largely to the _Ancients_ gave And little did for _younger Children_ save; Or rather we _impartial Nature_ blame To hide our _Sloth_, and cover o'er our _Shame_; As _Sinners_, when their _Reason's_ drown'd in _Sense_, Fall out with _Heav'n_, and quarrel _Providence_. 270 Yet should you our _Galenic Way_ despise, And some _new Colbatch_ of the _Muses_ rise; No _Quarter_ from the _College_ hope, who sit _Infallible_ at _Will's_ and judg of _Sense_ and _Wit_: Keep fair with these, or _Fame_ you _court_ in vain, A strict _Neutrality_ at least _maintain_! Speak, like the wise _Italian_, well of all; Who knows into what _Hands_ he's doom'd to _fall_? Write _oft_ and _much_, at _first_, if you'd _write well_, For he who ne'er _attempts_ will ne'er _excel_; 280 _Practice_ will _file_ your _Verse_, your _Thoughts refine_, And _Beauty_ give, and _Grace_ to every Line: The _Gnat_ to fam'd _AEneis_ led the way, And our _Immortal_ COWLEY once did _play_. Let not the _Sun of Life_ in vain decline, Or _Time_ run _waste; No Day without a Line_. Yet learn by me, my Friend, from _Errors_ past; O never _write_, or never _Print_ in _Haste_! The _worst Excuse_ Ill Authors e'er advance, Which does, like _Lies_, a _single Guilt_ enhance. 290 Lay by your _Work_, and leave it on the _Loom_, Which if at _mod'rate distance_ you resume, A _Father's Fondness_ you'll with Ease look through, And _Objects_ in a proper _Medium_ view. 'Tis _Time_ alone can _Strength_ and _Ripeness_ give; A _Hasty Birth_ can ne'er expect to _live_. Fly, _low_ at first, you'll with Advantage _rise_; This _pleases_ all, as that will all _surprize_. [Sidenote: _The Subject_.] No _Work_ attempt but where your _Strength_ you know, Be _Master of your Subject_, _Thoughts_ will _flow_: 300 The _newer_ 'tis, the _choicer Fruit_ 'twill yield, More _Room_ you have to work if _large_ your _Field_; The _Sponge_ you oftner than the _Pen_ will want, And rather _Reason_ see to _prune_ than _plant_; Yet where the _Thoughts_ are _barren, weak_ and _thin_, New _Cyons_ should be neatly _grafted_ in.