If English Verse you’d in Perfection see, ROSCOMMON read, and Noble NORMANDY:  We borrow all from their exhaustless Store, Or little say they have not said before. Poor Insects of a Day, we toil and strive To creep from Dust to Dust, and think we live; These weak imperfect Beings scarce enjoy E’er Death’s rude Hand our blooming Hopes destroy:  With Lynx’s Eyes each others Faults we find, But to our own how few who are not blind? 210 How long is Art, how short, alas! our Time! } How few who can above the Vulgar climb, } Whose stronger Genius reach the True Sublime! } With tedious Rules which we our selves transgress, We make the Trouble more who strive to make it less.  But meanly why do you your Fate deplore, Yet still write on?—­Why do a Thousand more, Who for their own or some Forefathers Crime Are doom’d to wear their Days in beating Rhime?  But this a Noble Patron will redress, 220 And make you better write, tho you write less:  Whate’er a discontented Mind pretends, Distinguish’d Worth can rarely miss of Friends:  Do but excel, and he’ll at last arise Who from the Dust may lift thee to the Skies; For his own Sake will his Protection grant; What Horace e’er did yet Mecaenas want?  Or if the World its Favours should refuse, With barren Smiles alone reward thy Muse; Be thy own Patron, thou no more wilt need, 230 For all will court thee if thy Works succeed; At least the few Good Judges will commend, And secret growing Praise thy Steps attend.  Who shew’d Columbus where the Indies lay?  True to thy self, charge through, and force to Fame the way!  If Envy snarl, indulge it no Reply, Write better still, and let it burst and die!  Rest pleas’d if you can please the Wiser Few, Since to please all is more than Heav’n it self can do.  There are who can whate’er they will believe, 240 That Bail’s too hard for Beady, Three are Five:  That Nature, Justice, Reason, Truth must fall, With Clear Idea’s they’ll confound ’em all:  That Parallels may travel till they meet; Faith they can find in L——­, no Sense in STILLINGFLEET.  Disturb ’em not, but let ’em still enjoy Th’ unenvy’d Charms of their Eternal Moi.  If to the craggy Top of Fame you rise, Those who are lab’ring after ne’er despise.  Nor those above on Honours dazling Seat } 250