And yet my numbers please the rural throng,Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,On you their gifts are all bestowed again.For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,And in one garland all their beauties join;Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.
And yet my numbers please the rural throng,Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,On you their gifts are all bestowed again.For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,And in one garland all their beauties join;Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.
And yet my numbers please the rural throng,Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,On you their gifts are all bestowed again.For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,And in one garland all their beauties join;Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.
And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,
Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestowed again.
For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.
In 1711 appeared theEssay on Criticism, also written in heroic couplets. The poem professes to set forth the gospel of “wit” and “nature” as it applies to the literature of the period. The work is clearly immature. Thereis nothing novel in its theories, which are conventionality itself; but it dresses the aged theories so neatly and freshly that the poem is a lasting monument to the genius of the writer. It is full of apt, quotable lines that have become imbedded in the language:
A little learning is a dangerous thing!...And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....To err is human: to forgive, divine....True wit is nature to advantage dressed....
A little learning is a dangerous thing!...And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....To err is human: to forgive, divine....True wit is nature to advantage dressed....
A little learning is a dangerous thing!...And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....To err is human: to forgive, divine....True wit is nature to advantage dressed....
A little learning is a dangerous thing!...
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....
To err is human: to forgive, divine....
True wit is nature to advantage dressed....
Windsor Forest(1713) is another pastoral in the familiar meter. Artificial still, it nevertheless shows a broader treatment, and a still stronger grip of the stopped couplet.
By this time Pope was well known, and he set about his ambitious scheme of translating theIliad, which was eventually issued in 1720. For the book, as he was zealously assisted by his literary friends, he was successful in compiling a phenomenal subscription list, which (with the additional translation of theOdyssey) brought him more than ten thousand pounds. Such a triumph produced the inevitable reaction on the part of his critics, who maintained that Pope knew little Latin and less Greek, and that the translation was no translation at all. It certainly bears no close resemblance to the original Greek. Bentley, the famous classical scholar, remarked to the chagrined author, “A pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer.” The line of Pope has none of the great lift of the Homeric line, but it is often vigorous and picturesque, and answers with fair facility to the demands he makes upon it.
The troops exulting sat in order round,And beaming fires illumined all the ground.As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,Around her throne the vivid planets roll,And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,And tip with silver every mountain’s head:Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
The troops exulting sat in order round,And beaming fires illumined all the ground.As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,Around her throne the vivid planets roll,And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,And tip with silver every mountain’s head:Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
The troops exulting sat in order round,And beaming fires illumined all the ground.As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,Around her throne the vivid planets roll,And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,And tip with silver every mountain’s head:Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
The troops exulting sat in order round,
And beaming fires illumined all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,
O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain’s head:
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
In 1712, in a volume of Lintot’sMiscellanies, appearedThe Rape of the Lock, one of the most brilliant poems in the language. The occasion of it was trivial enough. A Lord Petre had offended a Miss Fermor by cutting off a lock of her hair; dissensions between the families had followed, and Pope set about to laugh both parties back into good-humor. He makes of the incident a mock-heroic poem, and, rather unwisely, invents elaborate machinery of sylphs, gnomes, and other airy beings that take part in the mortals’ misdemeanors. The length becomes disproportionate to the theme, but the effect is quite dazzling. The style is highly artificial and mannered; but we must remember that Pope is jocular all through, and that he is purposely pitching his style as high as the subject permits. It abounds in rhetorical devices, such as climax, antithesis, and apostrophe. The effect produced is like that of a crackle of colored fireworks; smart epigrams explode in almost every line, and conceits dazzle with their brilliance. Yet so great an artist is Pope that by sheer skill he prevents the work from being flashy or vulgar: the workmanship is too delicate and precise.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,How soon they find fit instruments of ill!Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,A two-edged weapon from her shining case;So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.He takes the gift with reverence, and extendsThe little engine on his fingers’ ends;This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.Just in that instant, anxious Ariel soughtThe close recesses of the virgin’s thought:As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,He watched the ideas rising in her mind,Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,An earthly lover lurking at her heart.Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wideTo enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain(But airy substance soon unites again),The meeting points the sacred hair disseverFrom the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,How soon they find fit instruments of ill!Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,A two-edged weapon from her shining case;So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.He takes the gift with reverence, and extendsThe little engine on his fingers’ ends;This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.Just in that instant, anxious Ariel soughtThe close recesses of the virgin’s thought:As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,He watched the ideas rising in her mind,Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,An earthly lover lurking at her heart.Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wideTo enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain(But airy substance soon unites again),The meeting points the sacred hair disseverFrom the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,How soon they find fit instruments of ill!Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,A two-edged weapon from her shining case;So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.He takes the gift with reverence, and extendsThe little engine on his fingers’ ends;This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.Just in that instant, anxious Ariel soughtThe close recesses of the virgin’s thought:As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,He watched the ideas rising in her mind,Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,An earthly lover lurking at her heart.Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wideTo enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain(But airy substance soon unites again),The meeting points the sacred hair disseverFrom the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,
A two-edged weapon from her shining case;
So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
He takes the gift with reverence, and extends
The little engine on his fingers’ ends;
This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,
As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.
Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,
A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!
And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;
Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
The close recesses of the virgin’s thought:
As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,
He watched the ideas rising in her mind,
Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,
An earthly lover lurking at her heart.
Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,
Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.
The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide
To enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.
E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,
A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;
Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain
(But airy substance soon unites again),
The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
The Dunciadappeared in 1728, with many subterfuges to conceal the authorship, and it reappeared in a larger, though not in an improved form, in 1742. In this poem he turns to rend the host of minor writers who had been making his life a misery with their pin-pricks. It shows his satirical powers at their best and at their worst. It is charged with a stinging wit, but is too spiteful and venomous, and confounds the good with the bad. Yet here as elsewhere Pope has many fine passages. The conclusion is probably the noblest that he ever composed:
In vain, in vain—the all-composing hourResistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.She comes! She comes! The sable throne beholdOf Night primeval and of Chaos old!Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,And all its varying rainbows die away.Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...See Mystery to Mathematics fly!In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,And unawares Morality expires....Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;Light dies before thy uncreating word;Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,And universal darkness buries all.
In vain, in vain—the all-composing hourResistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.She comes! She comes! The sable throne beholdOf Night primeval and of Chaos old!Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,And all its varying rainbows die away.Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...See Mystery to Mathematics fly!In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,And unawares Morality expires....Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;Light dies before thy uncreating word;Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,And universal darkness buries all.
In vain, in vain—the all-composing hourResistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.She comes! She comes! The sable throne beholdOf Night primeval and of Chaos old!Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,And all its varying rainbows die away.Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...See Mystery to Mathematics fly!In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,And unawares Morality expires....Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;Light dies before thy uncreating word;Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,And universal darkness buries all.
In vain, in vain—the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.
She comes! She comes! The sable throne behold
Of Night primeval and of Chaos old!
Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires....
Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.
The last years of his life were occupied chiefly in the composition of poetical epistles and satires (1731–35). Some of these are of great power, and show Pope’s art at its best. TheEpistle to Arbuthnotcontains the famous satirical portrait of Addison, with whom Pope had quarreled:
Peace to all such; but were there one whose firesTrue genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;Blest with each talent and each art to please,And born to write, converse, and live with ease:Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;Like Cato, give his little senate laws,And sit attentive to his own applause;While wits and templars every sentence raise,And wonder with a foolish face of praise:—Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
Peace to all such; but were there one whose firesTrue genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;Blest with each talent and each art to please,And born to write, converse, and live with ease:Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;Like Cato, give his little senate laws,And sit attentive to his own applause;While wits and templars every sentence raise,And wonder with a foolish face of praise:—Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
Peace to all such; but were there one whose firesTrue genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;Blest with each talent and each art to please,And born to write, converse, and live with ease:Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;Like Cato, give his little senate laws,And sit attentive to his own applause;While wits and templars every sentence raise,And wonder with a foolish face of praise:—Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
Peace to all such; but were there one whose fires
True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;
Blest with each talent and each art to please,
And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,
View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,
And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause;
While wits and templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise:—
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
In this passage, though he does not perceive it, Pope is holding up a glass to his own method. Observe how he “damns with faint praise”; how he is “willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike.” Nearly the whole extract might be applied to its author.
The last considerable poem is theEssay on Man(1734), which owes much to the suggestions of Bolingbroke. At the beginning of the poem he says “The proper study of mankind is man,” and then proceeds with a long and confused treatment of man and his place in the universe. As a contribution to philosophy it is contemptible, but from it we can detach clusters of passages full of force and beauty. The verse has all its author’s care and lucidity. In some places, indeed, the style is cut to the very bone, as it is in the well-known line, “Man never is but always to be blessed.”
4. His Prose.As a writer of prose Pope is of secondary importance. HisLetters, published under a cloud of devious tricks, clearly are written with an eye on the public. They are addressed chiefly to notable persons, such as Swift and Gay, and consist of pompous essays upon abstract subjects. Sometimes in other letters he forgets himself, and writes easily and brightly, especially when he is telling of his own experiences.
5. Summary.It is now useful to draw together the various features of the work of this important poet.
(a) Both in subject and in style his poems arelimited. They take people of his own social class, and they deal with their common experiences and their common interests and aspirations. Pope rarely dips below the surface, and when he does so he is not at his best. With regard to his style, we have seen that it is almost wholly restricted to the heroic couplet, used in a narrative and didactic subject. He is almost devoid of the lyrical faculty, and the higher artistic emotions—“passion and apathy, and glory and shame”—are beyond his artistic grasp.
(b) Within these limits his work ispowerfulandeffective. The wit is keen; the satire burns like acid; and his zeal is unshakable. In serious topics, as in theEssay on Man, he can give imperishable shape to popular opinions.
(c) His work iscarefuland almostfastidious, and thus confers an enormous benefit upon English poetry. He cured poetry of the haphazard methods of the earlier ages.With inspiration lacking, care was more than ever necessary, and in this Pope led the way. His verse reads so easily owing to the great care he took with it.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learned to dance.Essay on Criticism
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learned to dance.Essay on Criticism
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learned to dance.Essay on Criticism
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
Essay on Criticism
(d) Hismeteris among the most discussed in our literature. Its merits and demerits are quite clear to view. Against it we can urge its artificiality, its lack of originality, and the vile creeping paralysis that it communicated to the other metrical forms. Yet in its favor we must recognize its strength, unbreakable and pliable, like a strong bow, its clearness, point, and artistic brevity, and its incomparable excellence in some forms of satire and narrative. It is unprofitable to compare it with blank verse and other forms. We must recognize it as in a class apart.
1. Matthew Prior (1664–1721).Born in Dorsetshire, Prior studied at Cambridge, and was early engaged in writing on behalf of the Tories, from whom he received several valuable appointments. In 1701 he entered the House of Commons; and in 1715, becoming involved in Jacobite intrigues, he was imprisoned. He was liberated in 1717, and died in 1721.
His first long work isThe Town Mouse and the Country Mouse(1687), written in collaboration with Charles Montagu, and ridiculingThe Hind and the Panther. Other longer works areAlma(1716) andSolomon(1718). The first imitates Butler inHudibras, and with fair success; the second, written in the heroic couplet, aims at being a serious poem, but its seriousness is often marred with levity, and it shows no wisdom or insight.
Prior’s chief distinction lies in his miscellaneous verse, which is varied, bulky, and of a high quality. In somerespects it resembles the verses of Swift, for much of it is composed in the octosyllabic couplet, and it has a fair amount of Swift’s force and dexterity. Prior lacks Swift’s deadly power and passion, but he surpasses the Dean in versatility, in an easy wit and impudence, and in sentimentality. In this pleasant ease of verse and sentiment he is rarely approached. Some of the best of his shorter pieces areThe Chameleon,The Thief and the Cordelier, andTo Chloe.
2. John Gay (1685–1732).Gay was born in humble circumstances, and was apprenticed to a silk-mercer; but, being ambitious, he entered the service of the Duchess of Monmouth (1713). His poems having brought him some fame, he sought a public appointment. He was only moderately successful in this search, and his lazy and indifferent habits spoiled the chances that came in his way. He died in London, an amiable and shiftless idler.
His chief works areRural Sports(1713), written in the heroic couplet, and resembling Pope’sPastorals, The Shepherd’s Week(1714), andWhat d’Ye Call it?(1715), a pastoral farce.Trivia, or The Art of Walking the Streets of London(1715) is a witty parody of the heroic style, and it contains bright descriptions of London streets; then came two plays,Acis and GalateaandThe Beggar’s Opera(1728). This last play had a great success, which has lasted to the present day. It became the rage, and ran for sixty-two performances. It deserved its success, for it contains some pretty songs and much genuine though boisterous humor. Gay had the real lyrical gift, which was all the more valuable considering the age he lived in. His balladBlack-eyed Susanis still popular.
3. Edward Young (1683–1765).Young had a long life, and produced a large amount of literary work of variable quality. He was born in Hampshire, went to Oxford, and late in life (about 1730) entered the Church. He lived much in retirement, though in his later years he received a public appointment.
His major works areThe Last Day(1713) andThe Forceof Religion(1714), which are moralizings written in the heroic couplet;The Love of Fame(1724), which shows an advance in the use of the couplet; and a poem in blank verse,The Complaint, or Night Thoughts(1742). This last poem, which was inspired by the death of his wife, had a great and long-enduring popularity, which has now vanished. Like Young’s other poems, it shows some power of expression and somber satisfaction at his own misery. In the history of literature it is of some consequence, for the blank verse is of considerable strength, and as a reaction against the dominance of the couplet its value is undeniable.
4. Sir Samuel Garth (1661–1719).Garth was an older man than most of the other poets mentioned in this chapter. He was a popular physician, assisted Pope in the young man’s first efforts, and was knighted when George I ascended the throne.
The Dispensary, published in 1699, is the one work which gives him his place. It deals with a long-defunct squabble between physicians and apothecaries, and its importance is due to its being written in a kind of heroic couplet that is a link in style between Dryden and Pope.
5. Richard Savage (1697–1743).Savage’s melancholy fate, and his early friendship with Johnson, have given him a prominence that he scarcely deserves. He was born in London, and, according to his own story, was the child of Richard Savage, Earl Rivers. Savage passed his youth in miserable circumstances, took to hack-work with the publishers, besotted himself with drink and debauchery, and died in a debtor’s prison in Bristol.
His two chief poems areThe Bastard(1728) andThe Wanderer(1729). Both are written in the heroic couplet, and consist of long frenzied moralizings of his own unhappy lot. These works have much energy and some power of expression, but they are diffuse and rhetorical in style. Savage cannot rid himself of his personal grievances, which, inflamed by his dissipations, produce a morbid extravagance that ruins his work as poetry.
6. Lady Winchilsea (1661–1720).Born in Hampshire, the daughter of Sir William Kingsmill, Anne, Countess of Winchilsea, passed most of her life in London, where she became acquainted with Pope and other literary notables. Some of her poems, which were of importance in their day, areThe Spleen(1701), a Pindaric ode;The Prodigy(1706); andMiscellany Poems(1714), containing theNocturnal Reverie.
Wordsworth says, “It is remarkable that, excepting theNocturnal Reverieand a passage or two inWindsor Forestof Pope, the poetry of the period intervening between the publication ofParadise LostandThe Seasonsdoes not contain a single new image of nature.” This statement is perhaps an exaggeration, but there is no doubt that Lady Winchilsea had the gift of producing smooth and melodious verse, and she had a discerning eye for the beauties of nature.
7. Ambrose Philips (1675–1749).Philips was a Shropshire man, was educated at Cambridge, and became a considerable figure in the literary world. He was a friend of Pope, and wrotePastorals(1709), which Pope damned with faint praise. The two poets quarreled, and Pope gave the other immortality inThe Dunciad. Philips obtained several posts under the Government, and passed a happy and prosperous life.
He wrote three tragedies, the best of which isThe Distressed Mother(1712). He produced a fair amount of prose for the periodicals, and his miscellaneous verse, of a light and agreeable kind, was popular in its day. His poetry was called “namby-pamby,” from his Christian name; and the word has survived in its general application.
8. Sir Richard Blackmore (1650–1729).Blackmore was an industrious physician, and an industrious and unsuccessful poet. His name became a byword by reason of his huge, dreary epics, which he composed in his spare time. Some of them arePrince Arthur(1695),Job(1700),andThe Creation(1712). They are written in tolerable heroic couplets.
9. Thomas Parnell (1679–1718).Parnell was born in Ireland, entered the Church, became an archdeacon, and prospered in his post. His poems consist of miscellaneous work, and were extremely popular in their day. The best of his work is contained inThe Hermit(1710), which is written in heroic couplets, and in places reminds the reader ofThe Deserted Village. He shows skill as a versifier, and he has a genuine regard for nature.
10. Allan Ramsay (1686–1758).Born in Lanarkshire, Ramsay came to Edinburgh at the age of fifteen, and became a wig-maker. He soon took to writing verses, which admitted him into the society of the Edinburgh wits. He started a bookseller’s shop in the city, and became a kind of local unofficial Poet Laureate. His ballads became very popular, and he brought upon himself the notice of the leaders of the literary world in London.
Ramsay published much miscellaneous writing, of which a large amount was issued to satisfy a passing demand. The quality can be poor enough; but some of it is more meritorious. A piece likeLochaber No Moreis quite noteworthy, and others reveal his freakish and pleasing sense of humor. HisGentle Shepherd(1725), a pastoral drama, has many of the vices of its species; but on the other hand it contains pleasing natural descriptions, some delightful though sentimental characters, and a few charming lyrics. As a literary ancestor of Burns, Ramsay is important. He influenced the poetry of the Ayrshire man, who freely acknowledged the aid he obtained. Ramsay also shows how the natural genius of Scotland, while bowing to the supremacy of the school of Pope, nevertheless diverged on lines natural to itself.
The period under review marks a hardening of the process discernible in the last chapter. The secession fromromanticism is complete; the ideals of classicism reign supreme. Yet so unsleeping is the sense of progress in our literature that, even at the lowest ebb of the romantic spirit, a return to nature is feebly beginning. In the next chapter we shall notice this new movement, for in the next period we shall see it becoming full and strong.
1. Poetry.In no department of literature is the triumph of classicism seen more fully than in poetry.
(a) Thelyricalmost disappears. What remains is of a light and artificial nature. The best lyrics are found in some of Prior’s shorter pieces, in Gay’sBeggar’s Opera, and in Ramsay’sGentle Shepherd.
(b) Theodestill feebly survives in the Pindaric form. Pope wrote a few with poor success, one of them beingOn St. Cecilia’s Day, in imitation of Dryden’s ode. Lady Winchilsea was another mediocre exponent of the same form.
(c) Thesatirictype is common, and of high quality. The best example is Pope’sDunciad, a personal satire. Of political satire in poetry we have nothing to compare with Dryden’s. Satire tends to be lighter, brighter, and more cynical. It is spreading to other forms of verse besides the heroic couplet, and we can observe it in the octosyllabic couplet in the poems of Swift, Prior, and Gay. A slight development is the epistolary form of the satire, of which Pope became fond in his latter years. Such is hisEpistles of Horace Imitated.
(d)Narrative Poetry.This is of considerable bulk, and contains some of the best productions of the period. Pope’s translation of Homer is a good example, and of the poorer sort are Blackmore’s abundant epics. We have also to notice a slight revival of the ballad, which was imitated by Gay and Prior. Their imitations are bloodless things, but they are worth noticing because they show that the interest is there.
(e)The Pastoral.The artificial type of the pastoral was highly popular, for several reasons. It gave an air of rusticity to the most formal of compositions; it was thoughtto be elegant; it was easily written; and it had the approval of the ancients, who made free use of the type. Pope and Philips have been mentioned as examples of the pastoral poets.
2. Drama.Here there is almost a blank. The brilliant and exotic flower of Restoration comedy has withered, and nothing of any merit takes its place. In tragedy Addison’sCatois almost the only passable example. In comedy Steele’s plays are an expurgated survival of the Restoration type. The only advance in the drama is shown inThe Beggar’s Opera, whose robust vitality, sprightly music, and charming songs make it stand alone in its generation.
3. Prose.In prose we have to chronicle a distinct advance. For the first time we have periodical literature occupying a prominent place in the writing of the time. At this point, therefore, it is convenient to summarize the rise of periodical literature.
(a)The Rise of the Periodical Press.The first periodical published in Europe was theGazetta(1536), in Venice. This was a manuscript newspaper which was read publicly in order to give the Venetians information regarding their war with the Turks. In England news-sheets were published during the reign of Elizabeth, but they were irregular in their appearance, being issued only when some notable event, such as a great flood or fire, made their sale secure. The first regular English paper wasThe Weekly Newes(1622), issued by Nathaniel Butter. The sheet contained some items of news from abroad, and was devoid of editorial comment or literary matter.
During the Civil War of the middle of the seventeenth century both Royalists and Roundheads issued their newspapers, which appeared spasmodically and seldom survived for any length of time. A Royalist journal was theMercurius Anglicus, which was succeeded by several others of somewhat similar names. The Roundhead publications were theMercurius Pragmaticus, theMercurius Politicus, and others. After the Restoration newspaper-writing became so popular and so troublesome that the Governmentin 1662 suspended all private sheets and issued in their place the one official organ,The Public Intelligencer. This becameThe Oxford Gazette(1665), and finallyThe London Gazette(1666). The office of Gazetteer became an official appointment, and Steele held it for a time.
In 1682 the freedom of the Press was restored, and large numbers ofMercuriesand other periodicals appeared and flourished in their different fashions. Advertisements began to be a feature of the papers. InThe Jockey’s Intelligencer(1683) the charge is “a shilling for a horse or coach, for notification, and sixpence for renewing.” In 1702The Daily Courant, the first daily newspaper, was published, and it survived until 1735. Then in the early years of the eighteenth century the fierce contests between the Whigs and the Tories brought a rapid expansion of the Press. The most famous of the issues were Defoe’sReview(1704), a Whig organ whose writings brought its editor into disrepute; and its opponentThe Examiner, the Tory paper to which men like Swift and Prior contributed regularly. These newspapers are almost entirely political, but they contain satirical work of much merit.
Then in 1709 Steele publishedThe Tatler. At first it was Steele’s intention to make it entirely anews-paper; but under the pressure of his own genius and of that of Addison its literary features were accentuated till the daily essay became the feature of leading interest.The Spectator, begun in March, 1711, carried the tendency still farther. The literary journal has come to stay. Steele’sPlebeian(1718) is an early example of the political periodical.
(b)The Rise of the Essay.Johnson defines an essay as “a loose sally of the mind, an irregular indigested piece, not a regular or orderly performance.” This definition is not quite complete, for it does not cover such an elaborate work as Locke’sEssay concerning Human Understanding. But for the miscellaneous prose essay, which it is our immediate business to consider here, the definition will do. An essay, therefore, must in other words be short,unmethodical, personal, and written in a style that is literary, easy, and elegant.
The English essay has its roots in the Elizabethan period, in the miscellaneous work of Lodge, Lyly, and Greene, and other literary free-lances (see p.142). Sir Philip Sidney’sApologie for Poetrie, published about 1580, is a pamphlet that attains a rudimentary essay-form. But the first real essayist in English is Francis Bacon (1561–1626), who published a short series of essays in 1597, enlarged in two later editions (1612 and 1625). His work follows that of the French writer Montaigne, whose essays appeared about 1580. In Bacon we have the miscellany of theme and the brevity, but we lack the intimacy of treatment and of style. Bacon’s essays are rather the disconnected musings of the philosopher than the personal opinions of the literary executant.
The defects of Bacon were remedied by Abraham Cowley (1618–67), who writes on such subjects asMyself,The Garden, and other familiar themes. His style is somewhat heavy, but he has a pleasant discursive manner, different from the dry and distant attitude of Bacon. He provides the link between Addison and Bacon. Another advance is marked by a group of character-writers who flourished in the first half of the seventeenth century. They gave short character-sketches, often very acute and humorous, of various types of people. The best known of such writers are Joseph Hall (1574–1656), John Earle (1601–65), and Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613). Overbury wrote short accounts of such types as theTinker, theMilkmaid, and theFranklin. His sketches are short, are pithily expressed, and reveal considerable knowledge and insight.
During the Restoration period we have Dryden’sEssay of Dramatic Poesie(1666), Locke’sEssay concerning Human Understanding(1690), and Temple’sEssay on Poetry(1685). The two first works are too long to be called essays proper, and fall rather under the name of treatises. Temple’s essay, one of many that he published,is rather long and formal, but it is nearer the type we are here considering.
With the development of the periodical press the short essay takes a great stride forward. It becomes varied, and acquires character, suppleness, and strength. The work of Addison and Steele has already been noticed at some length. InThe Tatler(1709) andThe Spectator(1711) they laid down the lines along which the essay was to be developed by their great successors. Other essayists of the time were Swift and Pope, who contributed to the periodicals, and Defoe, whose miscellaneous work is of wide range and of considerable importance.
(c)Prose Narrative.Much of the narrative is still disguised as allegory, as in Swift’sGulliver’s Travelsand Addison’sVision of Mirza. In his method Swift shows some advance, for he subordinates the allegory and adds to the interest in the satire and the narrative. The prominence given to fiction is still more noticeable in the novels of Defoe, such asRobinson Crusoe. We are now in touch with the novel proper, which will be treated in the next chapter.
(d)Miscellaneous Prose.There is a large body of religious, political and philosophical work. Much of it is satirical. In political prose Swift is the outstanding figure, with such books as theDrapier’s Letters; and in religious writing hisTale of a Tubhas a sinister importance. Other examples are Bolingbroke’sSpirit of Patriotism(political), Berkeley’sAlciphron(philosophical), and Steele’sThe Christian Hero(religious).
1. Poetry.In poetry we have to chronicle the domination of theheroic couplet. This meter produced a close, clear, and almost prosaic style, as we have noticed in the work of Pope. Blank verse is still found in Young’sNight Thoughts. Another example of blank verse is found in the mock epic ofJohn Philips (1676–1708)calledThe Splendid Shilling(1703). The use of blank verse at this timeis important, for it marks both a resistance to the use of the couplet and a promise of the revival of the freer forms of verse. The following is a fair example of the blank verse of the period. In style it is quite uninspired, and is philosophically dull, but it is metrically accurate and has a certain dignity and force.
Amidst my list of blessings infiniteStands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,Till it has taught him how to bear it well,By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!Young,Night Thoughts
Amidst my list of blessings infiniteStands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,Till it has taught him how to bear it well,By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!Young,Night Thoughts
Amidst my list of blessings infiniteStands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,Till it has taught him how to bear it well,By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!Young,Night Thoughts
Amidst my list of blessings infinite
Stands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”
’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;
When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.
May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,
Till it has taught him how to bear it well,
By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!
Young,Night Thoughts
Thelyricstill survives as a pale reflection of the Caroline species. A short specimen will suffice to show the facile versification and the lack of real passion that marks the treatment of the almost universal love-theme:
Blessed as the immortal gods is he,The youth who fondly sits by thee,And hears and sees thee all the while,Softly speak, and sweetly smile.’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,And raised such tumults in my breast;For while I gazed, in transport tossed,My breath was gone, my voice was lost.Ambrose Philips,Sappho
Blessed as the immortal gods is he,The youth who fondly sits by thee,And hears and sees thee all the while,Softly speak, and sweetly smile.’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,And raised such tumults in my breast;For while I gazed, in transport tossed,My breath was gone, my voice was lost.Ambrose Philips,Sappho
Blessed as the immortal gods is he,The youth who fondly sits by thee,And hears and sees thee all the while,Softly speak, and sweetly smile.
Blessed as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee all the while,
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.
’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,And raised such tumults in my breast;For while I gazed, in transport tossed,My breath was gone, my voice was lost.Ambrose Philips,Sappho
’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For while I gazed, in transport tossed,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.
Ambrose Philips,Sappho
The only other kind of meter of any consequence is theoctosyllabic couplet, which is largely employed in occasional and satirical compositions. Its style is neat, sharp, and dexterous, as can be observed in Swift’s and Prior’s verses.
2. Prose.In prose the outstanding feature is the emergence of the middle style. Of this the chief exponent isAddison, of whom Johnson says, “His prose is of the middle style, always equable, and always easy, without glowing words and pointed sentences.” We now find established a prose suitable for miscellaneous purposes—for newspaper and political work, for the essay, for history and biography. The step is of immense importance, for we can say that with Addison the modern era of prose is begun.
Along with this went the temporary disappearance of ornate prose. Prose of this style, though it had its beauties, was yet liable to be full of flaws, and was unacceptable to the taste of the age of Pope. It was therefore avoided. When ornate prose re-emerged later in the work of Johnson and Gibbon it was purged of its technical weaknesses, a development largely due to the period of maturing that it had undergone in the time we are now considering.
While the school of Addison represents the middle style, the plainer style is represented in the work of Swift and Defoe. Swift reveals the style at its best—sure, clean, and strong. Defoe’s writing is even plainer, and often descends to carelessness and inaccuracy. This is due almost entirely to the haste with which he wrote. We give an example of this colloquial style:
“Well,” said I, “honest man, that is a great mercy, as things go now with the poor. But how do you live then, and how are you kept from the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?” “Why, sir,” says he, “I am a waterman, and there is my boat,” says he, “and the boat serves me for a house; I work in it in the day, and I sleep in it in the night, and what I get I lay it down upon that stone,” says he, showing me a broad stone on the other side of the street, a good way from his house; “and then,” says he, “I halloo and call to them till I make them hear, and they come and fetch it.”Defoe,A Journal of the Plague Year
“Well,” said I, “honest man, that is a great mercy, as things go now with the poor. But how do you live then, and how are you kept from the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?” “Why, sir,” says he, “I am a waterman, and there is my boat,” says he, “and the boat serves me for a house; I work in it in the day, and I sleep in it in the night, and what I get I lay it down upon that stone,” says he, showing me a broad stone on the other side of the street, a good way from his house; “and then,” says he, “I halloo and call to them till I make them hear, and they come and fetch it.”
Defoe,A Journal of the Plague Year
TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
1. Compare the two following passages as examples of satire. They represent the bitterest passages from Dryden and Pope respectively. Remark upon the two methods—whether they are personal or general, vindictive or magnanimous. Add a note on the style of Dryden contrasted with that of Pope, and compare their handling of the heroic couplet. Say which passage you prefer, and why you prefer it.
(1) Doeg,[160]though without knowing how or why,Made still a blundering kind of melody;Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,And, in one word, heroically mad,He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,But faggoted his notions as they fell,And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,All his occasions are to eat and drink.If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,He means you no more mischief than a parrot;The words for friend and foe alike were made,To fetter them in verse is all his trade.Dryden,Absalom and Achitophel(Part II)
(1) Doeg,[160]though without knowing how or why,Made still a blundering kind of melody;Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,And, in one word, heroically mad,He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,But faggoted his notions as they fell,And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,All his occasions are to eat and drink.If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,He means you no more mischief than a parrot;The words for friend and foe alike were made,To fetter them in verse is all his trade.Dryden,Absalom and Achitophel(Part II)
(1) Doeg,[160]though without knowing how or why,Made still a blundering kind of melody;Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,And, in one word, heroically mad,He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,But faggoted his notions as they fell,And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,All his occasions are to eat and drink.If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,He means you no more mischief than a parrot;The words for friend and foe alike were made,To fetter them in verse is all his trade.Dryden,Absalom and Achitophel(Part II)
(1) Doeg,[160]though without knowing how or why,
Made still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,
And, in one word, heroically mad,
He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,
But faggoted his notions as they fell,
And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.
Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,
For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;
He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.
If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a parrot;
The words for friend and foe alike were made,
To fetter them in verse is all his trade.
Dryden,Absalom and Achitophel(Part II)
(2)Pope.A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.Let Sporus[161]tremble—Arbuthnot.What? that thing of silk,Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?Pope.Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:So well-bred spaniels civilly delightIn mumbling of the game they dare not bite.Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:Whether in florid impotence he speaks,And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.His wit, all see-saw betweenthatandthis,Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,And he himself one vile antithesis.Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,The trifling head or the corrupted heart,Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.Pope,Epistle to Arbuthnot
(2)Pope.A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.Let Sporus[161]tremble—Arbuthnot.What? that thing of silk,Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?Pope.Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:So well-bred spaniels civilly delightIn mumbling of the game they dare not bite.Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:Whether in florid impotence he speaks,And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.His wit, all see-saw betweenthatandthis,Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,And he himself one vile antithesis.Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,The trifling head or the corrupted heart,Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.Pope,Epistle to Arbuthnot
(2)Pope.A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.Let Sporus[161]tremble—Arbuthnot.What? that thing of silk,Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?Pope.Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:So well-bred spaniels civilly delightIn mumbling of the game they dare not bite.Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:Whether in florid impotence he speaks,And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.His wit, all see-saw betweenthatandthis,Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,And he himself one vile antithesis.Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,The trifling head or the corrupted heart,Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.Pope,Epistle to Arbuthnot
(2)Pope.A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.
Let Sporus[161]tremble—
Arbuthnot.What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
Pope.Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:
So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.
His wit, all see-saw betweenthatandthis,
Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,
And he himself one vile antithesis.
Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,
The trifling head or the corrupted heart,
Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Pope,Epistle to Arbuthnot
2. The two following extracts are from love-lyrics of the period. Comment upon the treatment of the theme, paying attention to the strength of feeling expressed, and the naturalness of the expression. Is the English or the Scottish poem the more natural? Write a note on the style of each, and say if it suits the subject.