Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,

But are not critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find

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Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind: 20 Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;

The lines though touch'd but faintly are drawn right:

But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac❜d,

Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd,

All fools have still an itching to deride,

And fain would be upon the laughing side.

Os excellentes só, outros ensinem:

E sò quem bem compõe, livre censure.

Authores parciais do proprio genio Pode haver; he verdade, mas he menos Parcial do que opina, quem critica?

Em busca do saber a rezao perdem,

E por disculpa em criticos, se tornao.

Igual fogo os agita os incendea

Ou possao, ou nao possaõ, sempre escrevem

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30

If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,

There are who judge still worse than he can write. 35

Some have at first for wits, then poets, past,

Turn'd critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last.

Some neither can for wits nor critics pass,

As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle, 40

As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;

Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
Their generation's so equivocal;

To tell them would a hundred tongues require,

Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.

But you who seek to give and merit fame,

And justly bear a Critic's noble name,

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Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet, 50
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.

Cõ a raiva de hum rival, ou cõ ciume

De hum custodio das bellas do serralho.

Tem comichao d'escarnecêr os tolos;
De estár da parte de quem ri, ou ladra.
Se Mevio escreve contra o jus d'Apollo
Ha

quem julgue, peor, do que elle escreve.

Alguns antes de serem vates, foraõ Por homens, de juizo reputados,

Deraõ-se á critica, e asnos sêr, provarao.

Como as mùlas, nem asnos nem cavallos

Outros nao sao sensatos, nem censôres.

Esses pedantes, semi sabios, praga

Que em cardumes a bafao nossas ilhas;

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40

45

Quais nas margens do nilo esses insectos

Que encontramos informes incompletos
De equivoca estructura. Ninguem sábe

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Que nome dár a tantas meias coisas :

Nomealas; requér humas cem linguas:
Mas a de hum tolo, háde estafár cem homens

Oh vòs que buscairs dar, merecêr fama,

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,

And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.

As on the land while here the ocean gains,

In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;

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Thus in the soul while memory prevails,

The solid pow'r of understanding fails;
Where beams of warm imagination play,

The memory's soft figures melt away.

One science only will one genius fit;

So vast is art, so narrow human wit:

Not only bounded to peculiar arts,

But oft' in these confin'd to single parts.

Like kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,

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By vain ambition still to make them more:

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