For even reversions are all begg’d before:  20
  Desert, how known soe’er, is long delay’d;
  And then, too, fools and knaves are better paid. 
  Yet, as some actions bear so great a name,
  That courts themselves are just, for fear of shame;
  So has the mighty merit of your play
  Extorted praise, and forced itself away. 
  ’Tis here as ’tis at sea; who farthest goes,
  Or dares the most, makes all the rest his foes. 
  Yet when some virtue much outgrows the rest,
  It shoots too fast and high to be express’d; 30
  As his heroic worth struck envy dumb,
  Who took the Dutchman, and who cut the boom. 
  Such praise is yours, while you the passions move,
  That ’tis no longer feign’d, ’tis real love,
  Where nature triumphs over wretched art;
  We only warm the head, but you the heart. 
  Always you warm; and if the rising year,
  As in hot regions, brings the sun too near,
  ’Tis but to make your fragrant spices blow,
  Which in our cooler climates will not grow. 40
  They only think you animate your theme
  With too much fire, who are themselves all phlegm. 
  Prizes would be for lags of slowest pace,
  Were cripples made the judges of the race. 
  Despise those drones, who praise, while they accuse
  The too much vigour of your youthful Muse. 
  That humble style which they your virtue make,
  Is in your power; you need but stoop and take. 
  Your beauteous images must be allow’d
  By all, but some vile poets of the crowd. 50
  But how should any sign-post dauber know
  The worth of Titian or of Angelo? 
  Hard features every bungler can command;
  To draw true beauty shows a master’s hand.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 13:  ‘Bessus:’  a cowardly character in Beaumont and Fletcher’s comedy of ‘A King and no King.’]

* * * * *

EPISTLE V.

TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON, ON HIS EXCELLENT ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE.

  Whether the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore,
  The seeds of arts and infant science bore,
  ’Tis sure the noble plant, translated first,
  Advanced its head in Grecian gardens nursed. 
  The Grecians added verse:  their tuneful tongue
  Made Nature first, and Nature’s God their song. 
  Nor stopp’d translation here:  for conquering Rome,
  With Grecian spoils, brought Grecian numbers home;
  Enrich’d by those Athenian Muses more,
  Than all the vanquish’d world could yield before. 10
  Till barbarous nations, and more barbarous times,
  Debased the majesty of verse to rhymes: 
  Those rude at first; a kind of hobbling prose,