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While their weak heads, like towns unfortify'd,
"Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side.
Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say;
And still to morrow's wiser than to-day.

We think our fathers fools; so wise we grow;

Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.

Once school-divines this zealous isle o'erspread; 440

Who knew most sentences, was deepest read:
Faith, gospel, all seem'd made to be disputed,
And none had sense enough to be confuted:
Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain,

Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck Lane.

If faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn,

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What wonder modes in wit should take their turn?

Entre senso e tolice vacilantes

Estas cabeças debeis se parecem

Co' as villas, que naõ saõ fortificadas

Que a frente e lado, a cada attaque mudao.

Perguntai-lhe o porque? melhor acôrdo

Dizem
que tem, e que progressos fazem.
Tauto cresce o saber em nós, que tolos
Julgamos nossos pais; filhos mais sabios
Assim os julgarao, quando crescerem.
Ja Theologos mil, qual praga hum dia
Estas ilhas cobrio; e forao lidos

Comtanto mais ardor, quanto as sentenças
Forao mais numerosas, mais audases.

Parecia, que a fé, que os evangelios
Só para disputalos existiaõ.
Agora em paz Tomistas Scotistas

Jazem mortos nas loges dos livreiros
Entre as teas d'arranha, traça ou ratos.

Se a fé mesma trajou roupas da moda
Que tem, que a moda no juizo impere?

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Oft', leaving what is natural and fit,

The current folly proves the ready wit;
And authors think their reputation safe
Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.

Some valuing those of their own side or mind,
Still make themselves the measure of mankind:
Fondly we think we honour merit then,

When we but praise ourselves in other men.
Parties in wit attend on those of state,
And public faction doubles private hate.
Pride, malice, folly, against Dryden rose

In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaus;

But sense surviv'd when merry jests were past; 460

For rising merit will buoy up at last.

Might he return, and bless once more our eyes,

New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise:
Nay should great Homer lift his awful head,

Zoilus again would start up from the dead.

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Pondo departe quanto he proprio e justo,
Mostrando engenho prompto em frioleiras
Authores tais suppoem salvos seus nomes
Sua reputaçao segura em quanto
Agrada aos asnos, celebrar seus chistes

Ha gentes partidistas, que só amaõ
Quem concorda com elles; de si fazem
Para o genero humano, huma medida
A quelles onde a nós, nelles achamos
Aprovaçao, ternura, apreço damos.
Estes partidos sao como os do estado,
Facçao publica dobra odios secretos.

Contra Driden desdem, malicia, orgulho
Em formas varias, loucas se levanta,
Mas o bomsenso suprevive ás chuffas
Ah se voitasse Driden! se benigno

Aos nossos olhos inda se mostrasse,

Nasceriao Blakmores e Milbournes.
E se de Homero a frente respeitavel
Levantada do tumulo, se visse;
T

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Envy will Merit, as its shade, pursue;

But, like a shadow, proves the substance true;

For envy'd wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known

Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own.

When first that sun too pow'rful beams displays, 470

It draws up vapours which obscure its rays;

But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way,
Reflect new glories, and augment the day.

Be thou the first true merit to befriend;
His praise is lost, who stays till all commend.
Short is the date, alas! of modern rhymes,
And 'tis but just to let them live betimes.
No longer now that golden age appears,
When patriarch wits surviv'd a thousand years:
Now length of fame (our second life) is lost,

And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast:

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