with his master Cornutus; and the verecunda mensa was, without dispute, some coffee-house table of the ancients.-I will only observe, that these four lines are as elegant and musical as any in Persius, not excepting those six or seven which Mr. Dryden quotes as the only such in all that author. I could be heartily glad to repeat the satisfaction described in them, being truly your, &c.

LETTER XXI.

MR. POPE TO H. CROMWELL, ESQ.

Nov. 24, 1710.

To make use of that freedom and familiarity of style which we have taken up in our correspondence, and which is more properly talking upon paper, than writing,-I will tell you, without any preface, that I never took Tycho Brahe for one of the ancients, or in the least an acquaintance of Lucan's; nay, it is a mercy on this occasion that I do not give you an account of his life and conversation; as how he lived some years like an enchanted knight in a certain island, with a tale of a king of Denmark's mistress that shall be nameless. But I have compassion on you, and would not for the world you should stay any longer among the Genii and Semidei Manes, you know where; for if once you get so near the moon, Sappho will want your presence in the clouds and inferior regions; not to mention the great loss Drury-lane will sustain when Mr. C

is in the milky way. These celestial thoughts put me in mind of the priests you mention, who are a sort of Sortilegi in one sense, because in their lottery there are more blanks than prizes; the adventurers being at best in an uncertainty, whereas the setters up are sure of something. Priests indeed in their character, as they represent God, are sacred; and so are constables as they represent the king; but you will own a great many of them are very odd fellows, and the devil of any likeness in them. Yet I can assure yon, I honour the good as much as I detest the bad; and I think that in condemning these we praise those. The translations from Ovid I have not so good an opinion of as you: because I think they have little of the main characteristic of this author, a graceful easiness. For let the sense be ever so exactly rendered, unless an author looks like himself in his air, habit, and manner, it is a disguise, and not a translation. But as to the Psalm, I think David is much more beholden to the translator than Ovid; and as he treated the Roman like a Jew, so he has made the Jew speak like a Roman.-Your, &c.

LETTER XXII.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

Dec. 10, 1710.

It seems that my late mention of Crashaw, and my quotation from him, has moved your curiosity. I therefore send you the whole author, who has

held a place among my other books of this nature for some years; in which time having read him twice or thrice, I find him one of those whose works may just deserve reading. I take this poet to have writ like a gentleman, that is, at leisure hours, and more to keep out of idleness than to establish a reputation: so that nothing regular or just can be expected from him. All that regards design, form, fable (which is the soul of poetry); all that concerns exactness, or consent of parts (which is the body), will probably be wanting : only pretty conceptions, fine metaphors, glittering expressions, and something of a neat cast of verse (which are properly the dress, gems, or loose ornaments of poetry) may be found in these verses. This is indeed the case of most other poetical writers of miscellanies; nor can it be well otherwise, since no man can be a true poet who writes for diversion only. These authors should be considered as versifiers and witty men, rather than as poets; and under this head will only fall the thoughts, the expression, and the numbers. These are only the pleasing parts of poetry, which may be judged of at a view, and comprehended all at once. And (to express myself like a painter) their colouring entertains the sight; but the lines and life of the picture are not to be inspected too narrowly.

This author formed himself upon Petrarch, or rather upon Marino. His thoughts one may observe, in the main, are pretty; but oftentimes far-fetched, and too often strained and stiffened to make them appear the greater. For men are never so apt to think a thing great, as when it is

odd or wonderful; and inconsiderate authors would rather be admired than understood. This ambition of surprising a reader, is the true natural cause of all fustian and bombast in poetry. To confirm what I have said, you need but look into his first poem of the Weeper, where the 2d, 4th, 6th, 14th, 21st stanzas are as, sublimely dull as the 7th, 8th, 9th, 16th, 17th, 20th, and 23d stanzas of the same copy are soft and pleasing: and if these last want any thing, it is an easier and more unaffected expression. The remaining thoughts in that poem might have been spared, being either but repetitions, or very trivial and mean. And by this example in the first, one may guess at all the rest; to be like this, a mixture of tender gentle thoughts and suitable expressions, of forced and inextricable conceits, and of needless fillersup to the rest. From all which it is plain, this author writ fast, and set down what came uppermost. A reader may skim off the froth, and use the clear underneath; but if he goes too deep, will meet with a mouthful of dregs; either the top or bottom of him are good for little; but what he did in his own natural, middle way, is best.

To speak of his numbers is a little difficult, they are so various and irregular, and mostly Pindaric; it is evident his heroic verse (the best example of which is his Music's Duel) is carelessly made up; but one may imagine from what it now is, that had he taken more care, it had been musical and pleasing enough; not extremely majestic, but sweet; and, the time considered of his writing, he was (even as uncorrect as he is) none of the worst versificators.

• I will just observe, that the best pieces of this author are a Paraphrase on Psalm xxiii.-on Lessius, Epitaph on Mr. Ashton, Wishes to his supposed Mistress, and the Dies Ira.

LETTER XXIII.

MR. POPE TO H. CROMWELL, ESQ.

Dec. 30, 1710.

I RESUME my old liberty of throwing out myself upon paper to you, and making what thoughts float uppermost in my head the subject of a letter. They are at present upon laughter, which (for aught I know) may be the cause you might sometimes think me too remiss a friend, when I was most entirely so: for I am never so inclined to mirth as when I am most pleased and most easy, which is in the company of a friend like yourself.

As the fooling and toying with a mistress is a proof of fondness, not disrespect, so is raillery with a friend. I know there are prudes in friendship, who expect distance, awe, and adoration; but I know you are not of them: and I for my part am no idol-worshipper, though a Papist. If I were to address Jupiter himself in a heathen way, I fancy I should be apt to take hold of his knee in a familiar manner, if not of his beard, like Dionysius; I was just going to say of his buttons; but I think Jupiter wore none (however I wo'nt be positive to so nice a critic as you, but