Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults [lxvi], 460 Who soon detect, and mark where'er we fail, And prove our marble with too nice a nail! Democritus himself was not so bad; He only 'thought'--but 'you' would make us--mad! But truth to say, most rhymers rarely guard Against that ridicule they deem so hard; In person negligent, they wear, from sloth, Beards of a week, and nails of annual growth; Reside in garrets, fly from those they meet, And walk in alleys rather than the street. 470 With little rhyme, less reason, if you please, The name of Poet may be got with ease, So that not tuns of helleboric juice [lxvii] Shall ever turn your head to any use; Write but like Wordsworth--live beside a lake, And keep your bushy locks a year from Blake; [44] Then print your book, once more return to town, And boys shall hunt your Bardship up and down. [45] Am I not wise, if such some poets' plight, To purge in spring--like Bayes [46]--before I write? 480 If this precaution softened not my bile, I know no scribbler with a madder style; But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice) I cannot purchase Fame at such a price, I'll labour gratis as a grinders' wheel, [lxviii] And, blunt myself, give edge to other's steel, Nor write at all, unless to teach the art To those rehearsing for the Poet's part; From Horace show the pleasing paths of song, [lxix], And from my own example--what is wrong. 490 Though modern practice sometimes differs quite, 'Tis just as well to think before you write; Let every book that suits your theme be read, So shall you trace it to the fountain-head. He who has learned the duty which he owes To friends and country, and to pardon foes; Who models his deportment as may best Accord with Brother, Sire, or Stranger-guest; Who takes our Laws and Worship as they are, Nor roars reform for Senate, Church, and Bar; 500 In practice, rather than loud precept, wise, Bids not his tongue, but heart, philosophize: Such is the man the Poet should rehearse, As joint exemplar of his life and verse. Sometimes a sprightly wit, and tale well told, Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold A longer empire o'er the public mind Than sounding trifles, empty, though refined.