In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque ferendis, Dixeris egregié, notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum: si forté necesse est Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum; Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis Continget: dabiturque licentia sumpta pudenter. Et nova factaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si Graeco fonte cadant, parcé detorta. Quid autem? Caecilio, Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademptum Virgilio, Varioque? ego cur acquirere pauca Guiding the bard, thro' his continu'd verse, What to reject, and when; and what rehearse. On the old stock of words our fathers knew, Frugal and cautious of engrafting new, Happy your art, if by a cunning phrase To a new meaning a known word you raise: If 'tis your lot to tell, at some chance time, "Things unattempted yet in prose or rhime," Where you are driv'n perforce to many a word Which the strait-lac'd Cethegi never heard, Take, but with coyness take, the licence wanted, And such a licence shall be freely granted: New, or but recent, words shall have their course, If drawn discreetly from the Graecian source. Shall Rome, Caecilius, Plautus, fix your claim, And not to Virgil, Varius, grant the same? Or if myself should some new words attain, Shall I be grudg'd the little wealth I gain? Si possum, invideor; cùm lingua Catonis et Ennî Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum Nomina protulerit? Licuit, semperque licebit Signatum praesente notâ procudere nomen. Ut silvae foliis pronos mutantur in annos; Prima cadunt: ita verborum vetus interit aetas, Et juvenum ritu florent modò nata vigentque. Debemur morti nos, nostraque; sive receptus Terrâ Neptunus, classes Aquilonibus arcet, Regis opus; sterilisve diu palus, aptaque remis, Vicinas urbes alit, et grave sentit aratrum: Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis, Doctus iter melius: mortalia facta peribunt, Tho' Cato, Ennius, in the days of yore, Enrich'd our tongue with many thousands more, And gave to objects names unknown before? No! it ne'er was, ne'er shall be, deem'd a crime, To stamp on words the coinage of the time. As woods endure a constant change of leaves, Our language too a change of words receives: Year after year drop off the ancient race, While young ones bud and flourish in their place. Nor we, nor all we do, can death withstand; Whether the Sea, imprison'd in the land, A work imperial! takes a harbour's form, Where navies ride secure, and mock the storm; Whether the Marsh, within whose horrid shore Barrenness dwelt, and boatmen plied the oar, Now furrow'd by the plough, a laughing plain, Feeds all the cities round with fertile grain; Or if the River, by a prudent force, The corn once flooding, learns a better course. Nedum sermonum stet honos, et gratia vivax. Multa renascentur, quae jam cecidêre; cadentque Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula, si volet usus, Quem penés arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi. Res gestae regumque ducumque et tristia bella, Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus. Versibus impariter junctis querimonia primúm, Pòst etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos. Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor, Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est. Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo. Hunc socci cepêre pedem, grandesque cothurni, Alternis aptum sermonibus, et populares Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis. The works of mortal man shall all decay; And words are grac'd and honour'd but a day: Many shall rise again, that now are dead; Many shall fall, that now hold high the head: Custom alone their rank and date can teach, Custom, the sov'reign, law, and rule of speech. For deeds of kings and chiefs, and battles fought, What numbers are most fitting, Homer taught: Couplets unequal were at first confin'd To speak in broken verse the mourner's mind. Prosperity at length, and free content, In the same numbers gave their raptures vent; But who first fram'd the Elegy's small song, Grammarians squabble, and will squabble long. Archilochus, 'gainst vice, a noble rage Arm'd with his own Iambicks to engage: With these the humble Sock, and Buskin proud Shap'd dialogue; and still'd the noisy croud; Musa dedit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum, Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum, Et juvenum curas, et libera vina referre. Descriptas servare vices, operumque colores, Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poëta salutor? Cur nescire, pudens pravè, quàm discere malo? Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult; Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestae. Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decenter. Embrac'd the measure, prov'd its ease and force, And found it apt for business or discourse. Gods, and the sons of Gods, in Odes to sing, The Muse attunes her Lyre, and strikes the string; Victorious Boxers, Racers, mark the line, The cares of youthful love, and joys of wine. The various outline of each work to fill, If nature gives no power, and art no skill; If, marking nicer shades, I miss my aim, Why am I greeted with a Poet's name? Or if, thro' ignorance, I can't discern, Why, from false modesty, forbear to learn! A comick incident loaths tragick strains: Thy feast, Thyestes, lowly verse disdains; Familiar diction scorns, as base and mean, Touching too nearly on the comick scene. Each stile allotted to its proper place, Let each appear with its peculiar grace! Interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit; Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore; Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri. Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque, Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba, Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querelâ. Non satis est pulchra esse poëmata; dulcia sunto, Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto. Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent Humani vultus; si vis me flere, dolendum est Primum ipsi tibi: tunc tua me infortunia laedent. Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loqueris, Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo: tristia moestum Vultum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum; Yet Comedy at times exalts her strain, And angry Chremes storms in swelling vein: The tragick hero, plung'd in deep distress, Sinks with his fate, and makes his language less. Peleus and Telephus, poor, banish'd! each Drop their big six-foot words, and sounding speech; Or else, what bosom in their grief takes part, Which cracks the ear, but cannot touch the heart? 'Tis not enough that Plays are polish'd, chaste, Or trickt in all the harlotry of taste, They must have passion too; beyond controul Transporting where they please the hearer's soul. With those that smile, our face in smiles appears; With those that weep, our cheeks are bath'd in tears: To make me grieve, be first your anguish shown, And I shall feel your sorrows like my own. Peleus, and Telephus! unless your stile Suit with your circumstance, I'll sleep, or smile. Features of sorrow mournful words require; Anger in menace speaks, and words of fire: Ludentem, lasciva; severum, seria dictu. Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram, Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit, et angit: Post effert animi motus interprete linguâ. Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta, Romani tollent equitesque patresque chachinnum. Intererit multum, Divusne loquatur, an heros; Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventâ Fervidus; an matrona potens, an sedula nutrix; Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli; Colchus, an Assyrius; Thebis nutritus, an Argis. The playful prattle in a frolick vein, And the severe affect a serious strain: For Nature first, to every varying wind Of changeful fortune, shapes the pliant mind; Sooths it with pleasure, or to rage provokes, Or brings it to the ground by sorrow's heavy strokes; Then of the joys that charm'd, or woes that wrung, Forces expression from the faithful tongue: But if the actor's words belie his state, And speak a language foreign to his fate, Romans shall crack their sides, and all the town Join, horse and foot, to laugh th' impostor down. Much boots the speaker's character to mark: God, heroe; grave old man, or hot young spark; Matron, or busy nurse; who's us'd to roam Trading abroad, or ploughs his field at home: If Colchian, or Assyrian, fill the scene, Theban, or Argian, note the shades between! Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge, Scriptor. Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem, Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer, Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis. Sit Medea ferox invictaque, flebilis Ino, Perfidus Ixion, Io vaga, tristis Orestes. Si quid inexpertum scenae committis, et audes Personam formare novam; servetur ad imum Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet. Difficile est propriè communia dicere: tuque Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus, Quàm si proferres ignota indictaque primus. Publica materies privati juris erit, si Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem; Follow the Voice of Fame; or if you feign, The fabled plan consistently sustain! If great Achilles you bring back to view, Shew him of active spirit, wrathful too; Eager, impetuous, brave, and high of soul, Always for arms, and brooking no controul: Fierce let Medea seem, in horrors clad; Perfidious be Ixion, Ino sad; Io a wand'rer, and Orestes mad! Should you, advent'ring novelty, engage Some bold Original to walk the Stage, Preserve it well; continu'd as begun; True to itself in ev'ry scene, and one! Yet hard the task to touch on untried facts: Safer the Iliad to reduce to acts, Than be the first new regions to explore, And dwell on themes unknown, untold before. Quit but the vulgar, broad, and beaten round, The publick field becomes your private ground: Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus Interpres; nec desilies imitator in arctum, Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operis lex. Nec sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus olim: fortunam priami cantabo, et nobile bellum. Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu? Parturiunt montes: nascetur ridiculus mus. Quanto rectius hic, qui nil molitur inepte! dic mihi, musa, virum, captae post moenia trojae, qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes. Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat, Antiphaten, Scyllamque, et cum Cylope Charibdin. Nor word for word too faithfully translate; Nor leap at once into a narrow strait, A copyist so close, that rule and line Curb your free march, and all your steps confine! Be not your opening fierce, in accents bold, Like the rude ballad-monger's chaunt of old; "The fall of Priam, the great Trojan King! Of the right noble Trojan War, I sing!" Where ends this Boaster, who, with voice of thunder, Wakes Expectation, all agape with wonder? The mountains labour! hush'd are all the spheres! And, oh ridiculous! a mouse appears. How much more modestly begins HIS song, Who labours, or imagines, nothing wrong! "Say, Muse, the Man, who, after Troy's disgrace, In various cities mark'd the human race!" Not flame to smoke he turns, but smoke to light, Kindling from thence a stream of glories bright: Antiphates, the Cyclops, raise the theme; Scylla, Charibdis, fill the pleasing dream. Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri, Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo: Semper ad eventum festinat; et in medias res, Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit: et quae Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit: Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet, Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum. Tu, quid ego et populus mecum desideret, audi; Si fautoris eges aulea manentis, et usque Sessuri, donec cantor, Vos plaudite, dicat: Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores, Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis. Reddere qui voces jam scit puer, et pede certo Signat humum; gestit paribus colludere, et iram Colligit ac ponit temerè, et mutatur in horas. He goes not back to Meleager's death, With Diomed's return to run you out of breath; Nor from the Double Egg, the tale to mar, Traces the story of the Trojan War: Still hurrying to th' event, at once he brings His hearer to the heart and soul of things; And what won't bear the light, in shadow flings. So well he feigns, so well contrives to blend Fiction and Truth, that all his labours tend True to one point, persu'd from end to end. Hear now, what I expect, and all the town, If you would wish applause your play to crown, And patient sitters, 'till the cloth goes down! _Man's several ages _with attention view, His flying years, and changing nature too. _The Boy _who now his words can freely sound, And with a steadier footstep prints the ground, Places in playfellows his chief delight, Quarrels, shakes hands, and cares not wrong or right: Sway'd by each fav'rite bauble's short-liv'd pow'r, In smiles, in tears, all humours ev'ry hour. Imberbus juvenis, tandem custode remoto, Gaudet equis canibusque et aprici gramine campi; Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper, Utilium tardus provisor, prodigus aeris, Sublimis, cupidusque, et amata relinquere pernix. Conversis studiis, aetas animusque virilis Quaerit opes et amicitias, infervit honori; Conmisisse cavet quòd mox mutare laboret. Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda; vel quod Quaerit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; Vel quòd res omnes timidè gelidèque ministrat, Dilator, spe lentus, iners, pavidusque futuri; The beardless Youth, at length from tutor free, Loves horses, hounds, the field, and liberty: Pliant as wax, to vice his easy soul, Marble to wholesome counsel and controul; Improvident of good, of wealth profuse; High; fond, yet fickle; generous, yet loose. To graver studies, new pursuits inclin'd, Manhood, with growing years, brings change of mind: Seeks riches, friends; with thirst of honour glows; And all the meanness of ambition knows; Prudent, and wary, on each deed intent, Fearful to act, and afterwards repent. Evil in various shapes _Old Age _surrounds; Riches his aim, in riches he abounds; Yet what he fear'd to gain, he dreads to lose; And what he sought as useful, dares not use. Timid and cold in all he undertakes, His hand from doubt, as well as weakness, shakes; Hope makes him tedious, fond of dull delay; Dup'd by to-morrow, tho' he dies to-day; Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti Se puero, censor, castigatorque minorum. Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimunt: ne forte seniles Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles. Semper in adjunctis aevoque morabimur aptis. Aut agitur res In scenis, aut acta refertur: Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem, Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae Ipse sibi tradit spectator: non tamen intus Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens: Ill-humour'd, querulous; yet loud in praise Of all the mighty deeds of former days; When he was young, good heavens, what glorious times! Unlike the present age, that teems with crimes! Thus years advancing many comforts bring, And, flying, bear off many on their wing: Confound not youth with age, nor age with youth, But mark their several characters with truth! Events are on the stage in act display'd, Or by narration, if unseen, convey'd. Cold is the tale distilling thro' the ear, Filling the soul with less dismay and fear, Than where spectators view, like standers-by, The deed submitted to the faithful eye. Yet force not on the stage, to wound the sight, Asks that should pass within, and shun the light! Many there are the eye should ne'er behold, But touching Eloquence in time unfold: Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet; Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus; Aut in avem Procne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem. Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.

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