True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,[175] As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense.[176] 365 Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,[177] And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,[178] The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,[179] 370 The line too labours, and the words move slow:[180] Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn,[181] and skims along the main.[182] Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise,[183] And bid alternate passions fall and rise![184] 375 While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove Now burns with glory, and then melts with love; Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:[185] Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found, 380 And the world's victor stood subdued by sound! The pow'r of music all our hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.[186] Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such, Who still are pleased too little or too much. 385 At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence, That always shows great pride, or little sense: Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best, Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move; 390 For fools admire, but men of sense approve:[187] As things seem large which we through mists descry, Dulness is ever apt to magnify. Some foreign writers,[188] some our own despise; The ancients only, or the moderns prize. 395 Thus wit, like faith, by each man is applied To one small sect, and all are damned beside.[189] Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, And force that sun but on a part to shine, Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, 400 But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; Which, from the first has shone on ages past, Enlights[190] the present, and shall warm the last; Though each may feel increases and decays,[191] And see now clearer and now darker days: 405 Regard not then if wit be old or new, But blame the false, and value still the true. Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,[192] But catch the spreading notion of the town: They reason and conclude by precedent, 410 And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. Of all this servile herd, the worst is he