I. 2.

"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!Confusion on thy banners wait;Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,1They mock the air with idle state.2Helm, nor hauberk's3twisted mail,Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall availTo save thy secret soul from nightly fears,From Cambria's4curse, from Cambria's tears!"Such were the sounds that o'er the crested prideOf the first Edward scattered wild dismay,As down the steep of Snowdon's5shaggy sideHe wound with toilsome march his long array.Stout Gloster6stood aghast in speechless trance:"To arms!" cried Mortimer,7and couched his quivering lance.

On a rock8whose haughty browFrowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,Robed in the sable garb of woe,With haggard eyes the poet stood,(Loose his beard, and hoary hairStreamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air9)And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.10"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,To high-born Hoel's11harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,That hushed the stormy main:12Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:Mountains, ye mourn in vainModred, whose magic songMade huge Plinlimmon13bow his cloud-topt head.On dreary Arvon's shore14they lie,Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;The famished eagle15screams, and passes by.Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,16Ye died amidst your dying country's cries—No more I weep. They do not sleep.On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,I see them sit,17they linger yet,Avengers of their native land:With me in dreadful harmony they join,And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.

"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,18The winding sheet of Edward's race.Give ample room, and verge enoughThe characters of hell to trace.Mark the year, and mark the night,When Severn shall re-echo with affrightThe shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,Shrieks of an agonizing king!19She-wolf of France,20with unrelenting fangs,That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangsThe scourge of heaven.21What terrors round him wait!Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

"Mighty victor, mighty lord!Low on his funeral couch he lies!22No pitying heart, no eye, affordA tear to grace his obsequies.Is the sable warrior23fled?Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,Gone to salute the rising morn.Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,24While proudly riding o'er the azure realmIn gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

"Fill high the sparkling bowl,The rich repast prepare;Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:Close by the regal chairFell Thirst and Famine scowl25A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.Heard ye the din of battle26bray,Lance to lance, and horse to horse?Long years of havoc urge their destined course,And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.Ye towers of Julius,27London's lasting shame,With many a foul and midnight murder fed,Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,And spare the meek usurper's28holy head.Above, below, the rose of snow,Twined with her blushing foe,29we spread:The bristled boar30in infant-goreWallows beneath the thorny shade.Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

"Edward,31lo! to sudden fate(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)Half of thy heart32we consecrate.(The web is wove. The work is done.)Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlornLeave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,They melt, they vanish from my eyes.But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's heightDescending slow their glittering skirts unroll?Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!33Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

"Girt with many a baron boldSublime their starry fronts they rear;And gorgeous dames, and statesmen oldIn bearded majesty, appear.In the midst a form divine!34Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,35Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.What strings symphonious tremble in the air,What strains of vocal transport round her play.Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,36hear;They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.

"The verse adorn againFierce War, and faithful Love,37And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.In buskined measures38movePale Grief, and pleasing Pain,With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.A voice, as of the cherub-choir,Gales from blooming Eden bear;And distant warblings lessen on my ear,That lost in long futurity expire.Fond,39impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?To-morrow he repairs40the golden flood,And warms the nations with redoubled ray.Enough for me; with joy I seeThe different doom our fates assign.Be thine despair, and sceptred care;To triumph, and to die, are mine."He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's heightDeep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.

This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I., as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human, reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race, and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."

The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence had not been diminished.

This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniformstanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three stanzas. The first of these parts is called theStrophe, or Turn; the second, theAntistrophe, or Counter-turn; the third, theEpode, or After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English composition.

1.crimson wing.Explain the meaning of this line.

2.Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:

"Mocking the air with colors idly spread."

3.hauberk.From A.-S.heals, the neck, andbeorgan, to protect. "The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to every motion."—Gray.

4.Cambria.Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber, the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England), which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania; and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.

5.Snowdon."Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract which the Welsh themselves callCragium-eryri. It included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the river Conway."—Gray.It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.

shaggy.See "Lycidas," 54:

"Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."

6.Gloster."Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."—Gray.

7.Mortimer.Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.

8.rock.One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the Conway River.

9."The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael, representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."—Gray.

10.Explain the meaning of this line.

11.Hoel.A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards. The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of Taliessin—the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony." It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war with King Edward. (See note7, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?

12.hushed the stormy main.Shakespeare says:

"The rude sea grew civil at her song,And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,To hear the sea-maid's music."

—Midsummer Night's Dream, Act ii, sc. 1.

13.Plinlimmon.A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is probably a corruption ofPum-lumon, "the fire-beacons," so-called because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the group.

14.Arvon's shore.Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland, opposite the island of Anglesey.

15.eagle."Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welsh,Craigian-eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called 'the Eagle's Nest.'"—Gray.

16.Dear as the ruddy drops.Shakespeare has it:

"As dear to me as are the ruddy dropsThat visit my sad heart."

—Julius Cæsar, Act ii, sc. 1.

17.I see them sit.See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:

"On the steepWhere your old bards, the Druids lie."

griesly.Grisly. From the A.-S.grisli, dreadful.

18.Weave the warp, etc. As theFateswere represented by the ancient Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so theNornsin the Norse mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in battle.

"Glittering lances are the loom,Where the dusky warp we strain,—Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,Shoot the trembling cords along;Swords that once a monarch bore,Keep the tissue close and strong."

—The Fatal Sisters, translated by Gray, from the Norse.

19."Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."—Gray.The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327. Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley, about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its founders.

20.She-wolf of France.Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II. Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:

"She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."

—3 Henry VI., Act i, sc. 4.

21.Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge to France.

22."Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress."—Gray.

23.sable warrior."Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father."—Gray.

24.The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is figured in this and the following lines.

25.Thirst and Famine scowl.When Richard II. died in prison, his body was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But the older writers assert that he was starved to death.

26.din of battle."Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."—Gray.

bray.From Gr.bracho, to clash.

27.towers of Julius."The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar."—Gray.

28.meek usurper."Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."—Gray.The references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen Margaret, and his father, Henry V.

29.The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.The reference is to the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the Roses.

30.bristled boar.Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver boar. So Shakespeare:

"In the sty of the most deadly boar."

—Richard III., Act iv, sc. 5.

"The wretched, bloody, and usurping boarThat spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,Swills your warm blood like wash."

—Ibid.Act v, sc. 2.

31.The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again addresses the king.

32.Half of thy heart."Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known."—Gray.

Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as

"Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,Sweet as new buds in spring."

33.The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."—Gray.

34.a form divine.Elizabeth.

35.awe-commanding face."Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she, lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie cheekes.'"—Gray.

36.Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his countrymen.

37.See "Faerie Queene," 1:

"Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."

38.buskined measures.The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare. So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The buskin was the Greekcothurnus, a boot with high heels, designed to add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.

39.Fond.Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so used by the older poets.

40.he repairs.So Milton:

"Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,And yet anon repairs his drooping head."

Thomas Graywas born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735 entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple. Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber; but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of fifty-four.

"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales, "and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps toofastidious, was pure and thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were of the truest and sincerest. . . . His poems are works of refinement rather than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine sentiment. They are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of their author's reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with difficulty escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a genuine poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."

Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was 'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.' Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he aimed."

Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."

Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea, scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the best sense, one of the classics of English literature."

And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since Milton."

Other Poems to be Read:Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.

References:Johnson'sLives of English Poets;Gray(English Men of Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt'sLectures on the English Poets; Roscoe'sEssays.

Some to Conceit1alone their taste confine,And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;2One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.3Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to traceThe naked nature and the living grace,With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,And hide with ornaments their want of art.True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;4Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,That gives us back the image of our mind.As shades more sweetly recommend the light,So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.For works may have more wit than does 'em good,As bodies perish through excess of blood.Others for Language all their care express,And value books, as women men,5for dress:Their praise is still,—the style is excellent;The sense, they humbly take upon content.6Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;The face of nature we no more survey,All glares alike, without distinction gay:But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;It gilds all objects, but it alters none.Expression is the dress of thought, and stillAppears more decent, as more suitable;A vile conceit in pompous words express'dIs like a clown in regal purple dress'd:For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,7As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.Some by old words to fame have made pretence,Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,Unlucky, as Fungoso8in the play,These sparks9with awkward vanity displayWhat the fine gentleman wore yesterday;And but so mimic ancient wits at best,As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;Alike fantastic, if too new or old:Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.But most by numbers judge a poet's song,And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;Who haunt Parnassus10but to please their ear,Not mend11their minds, as some to church repair,Not for the doctrine, but the music there.These equal syllables alone require,Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;12While expletives their feeble aid do join;And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,With sure returns of still expected rhymes;Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":13If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":Then, at the last and only couplet fraughtWith some unmeaning thing they call a thought,A needless Alexandrine ends the song,14That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.15Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and knowWhat's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;And praise the easy vigor of a line,Where Denham's strength and Waller's16sweetness join.True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,The sound must seem an echo to the sense:Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,And the smooth stream in smoother numbers17flows;But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:When Ajax18strives some rock's vast weight to throw,The line too labors, and the words move slow:Not so, when swift Camilla19scours the plain,Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.Hear how Timotheus'20vary'd lays surprise,And bid alternate passions fall and rise!While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove21Now 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:Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!The power of music all our hearts allow,And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.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;For fools admire, but men of sense approve:As things seem large which we through mists descry;Dulness is ever apt to magnify.Some foreign writers, some our own despise;The ancients only, or the moderns prize.Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'dTo one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,And force that sun but on a part to shine,Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;Which from the first has shone on ages past,Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;Tho' each may feel increases and decays,And see now clearer and now darker days.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,But catch the spreading notion of the Town;They reason and conclude by precedent,And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.Some judge of authors' names, not works, and thenNor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.Of all this servile herd, the worst is heThat in proud dulness joins with Quality.22A constant critic at the great man's board,To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.What woful stuff this madrigal would be,In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?But let a Lord once own the happy lines,How the wit brightens! how the style refines!Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,And each exalted stanza teems with thought!

Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724 lines, and is written in heroic couplets—that style of poetic composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by Boileau's "Art Poétique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica," and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this poem."

1.Conceit.Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."—Pope.

2.fit.Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise Lost," V, 7).

3.wit.This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to indicate a variety of ideas,—such as thought, knowledge, imagination,expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer than twelve couplets rhyming to it.

4."It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended upon how to say it."—Pattison.

5.as women men."As women value men," or "as women by men are valued"—which?

6.humbly take upon content.Are satisfied to take in faith.

7.sort.Agree.

8.Fungoso.A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his Humour."

9.sparks.Fops; vain, showy men.

10.Parnassus.A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.

11.mend.Improve, make better, amend.

Back to Index Next