I know you, and I must confess From Sence so Celebrated, and so True, _Wit_ so Uncommon, and so New, As that which alwaies shines in You; I cou’d expect no less. ‘Tis _Great_, ‘tis _Just_, ‘tis _Noble_ all! Right Spirit of the _Original_; No scatter’d Spark, no glimmering Beams, As in some Pieces here and there, Through a dark Glade of _Duller Numbers_ gleams. But ‘tis all Fire! all Glittering every where _Grateful Instruction_ that can never fail, To Please and Charm, even while you Rail. By _Arts_ thus Gentle and Severe The _Powers Divine_ first made their Mortals Wise; The soft Reproach they did with Reverence bear; While they Ador’d the GOD that did Chastize, II. Perhaps there may be found some _Carping Wit_, May blame the Measures of thy _Lines_, And cry,--Not so the _Roman_ Poet writ; Who drest his _Satyr_ in more lofty Rhimes. But thou for thy Instructor _Nature_ chose, That _first_ best Principle of _Poetry_; And to thy Subject didst thy _Verse_ dispose, While in Harmonious Union both agree. Had the _Great Bard_ thy _Properer Numbers_ view’d, He wou’d have lay’d his stiff Heroicks by, And this more _Gay_, more _Airy_ Path pursu’d, That so much better leads to _Ralliery_. Wit is no more than _Nature_ well exprest; And he fatigues and toyles in vain With _Rigid Labours_, breaks his Brain, That has _Familiar Thought_ in lofty Numbers drest. III. True to his _Sense_ and to his _Charming Wit_, Thou every where hast kept an equal Pace: All his Brisk Turns exactly hit, Justly maintain’d his Humour and his Grace: And with the _Language_ hast not chang’d the Face: Great _Juvenal_ in every Line, True _Roman_ still o’re all does shine; But in the _Brittish_ Garb appears most fine. IV.