And fhall these wretches bards commence Without or fpirit, taste, or sense?

And when they bring no other treasure,

Shall I admire them for their measure?
Or do I fcorn the critic's rules

Because I will not learn of fools?
Although Longinus' full-mouth'd profe
With all the force of genius glows;
Though Dionyfius' learned tafte
Is ever manly, just, and chafte,
Who, like a skilful wife physician,
Diffects each part of compofition,
And fhews how beauty ftrikes the foul
From a just compact of the whole;
Though judgment, in Quintilian's page,
Holds forth her lamp for ev'ry age;
Yet Hypercritics I disdain,

A race of blockheads dull and vain,
And laugh at all thofe empty fools,
Who cramp a genius with dull rules,
And what their narrow science mocks
Damn with the name of Het'rodox.

Thefe

These butchers of a poet's fame While they ufurp the critic's name,

Cry" This is taste

that's my opinion."

And poets dread their mock dominion.

So have you feen with dire affright, The petty monarch of the night, Seated aloft in elbow chair,

Command the prisoners to appear,

Harangue an hour on watchmen's praise,

And on the dire effect of frays;

Then cry,

"You'll fuffer for your daring,

"And d-n you, you fhall pay for fwearing."

Then turning tell th' astonish'd ring,

I fit to represent the KING.

The HARE and TORTOISE, 1757.

G

A FABLE.

ENIUS, bleft term, of meaning wide,

For fure no term fo misapply'd,

How many bear thy facred name,
That never felt a real flame!
Proud of the fpecious appellation,

Thus fools have chriften'd inclination.

But yet fuppofe a genius true,

Exempli gratiá, me or you:

Whate'er he tries with due attention,
Rarely escapes his apprehension ;
Surmounting ev'ry opposition,

You'd fwear he learnt by intuition.
Shou'd he rely alone on parts,
And study therefore but by starts?
Sure of fuccefs whene'er he tries,
Should he forego the means to rife?

Suppose

Suppose your watch a Graham make,
Gold, if you will, for value fake;
Its fprings within in order due,

No watch, when going, goes fo true;

If ne'er wound up with proper care,
What service is it in the wear?

Some genial spark of Phœbus' rays,
Perhaps within your bofom plays :
O how the purer rays afpire,
If Application fans the fire!

Without it Genius vainly tries,
Howe'er fometimes it seems to rife:
Nay Application will prevail,
When braggart parts and Genius fail :
And now to lay my proof before ye,
I here present you with a ftory.

In days of yore, when time was young, When birds convers'd as well as fung, When use of speech was not confin'd, Merely to brutes of human kind,

A forward Hare, of swiftness vain,
The Genius of the neighb'ring plain,

Wou'd oft deride the drudging croud:
For Geniuses are ever proud.

He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow,
For dog and horse he'd beat them bollow,
Nay, if he put forth all his strength,
Outstrip his brethren half a length.

A Tortoise heard his vain oration,
And vented thus his indignation.
Oh Pufs, it bodes thee dire difgrace,
When I defy thee to the race.

Come, 'tis a match, nay, no denial,
fhell upon the trial.

I lay my

'Twas done and done, all fair, a bet, Judges prepar'd, and distance set.

The fcamp'ring Hare outstript the wind,

The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind,

And