1729.

AN EPISTLE FROM W. SOMERVILLE TO ALLAN RAMSAY,

ON PUBLISHING HIS SECOND VOLUME OF POEMS.

HAIL Caledonian bard! whofe rural strains
Delight the lift'ning hills, and cheer the plains;
Already polish'd by fome hand divine,

Thy purer ore what furnace can refine?
Careless of cenfure, like the fun shine forth
In native luftre and intrinfic worth.

To follow nature is by rules to write,
She led the way and taught the Stagyrite:

From her the critic's taste, the poet's fire,
Both drudge in vain till fhe from heav'n inspire.
By the fame guide instructed how to foar,
Allan is now what Homer was before.

Ye chofen youths wha dare like him aspire, And touch with bolder hand the golden lyre, Keep nature still in view; on her intent, Climb by her aid the dang'rous steep ascent

To lafting fame.-Perhaps a little art
Is needful to plane o'er fome rugged part;
But the most labour'd elegance and care
T'arrive at full perfection must despair;
Alter, blot out, and write all o'er again,
Alas! fome venial fins will yet remain.
Indulgence is to human frailty due,
E'en Pope has faults, and Addison a few;
But thofe, like mifts that cloud the morning ray,
Are loft and vanish in the blaze of day.
Tho' fome intruding pimple find a place
Amid the glories of Clarinda's face,
We still love on, with equal zeal adore,
Nor think her lefs a goddess than before.
Slight wounds in no difgraceful scars fhall end,
Heal'd by the balm of fome good-natur❜d friend.
In vain fhall canker'd Zoilus affail,

While Spence prefides, and Candor holds the fcale:

His gen'rous breast nor envy fow'rs, nor spite;
Taught by his founder's motto † how to write,

Good

Mr. Spence, poetry profeffor in Oxford, and fellow of New College.

+ William of Wickham, founder of New College in Oxford, and of Winchester College. His motto is, "Manners maketh "man."

Good manners guides his pen; learn'd without

pride;

In dubious points not forward to decide:

If here and there uncommon beauties rise,
From flow'r to flow'r he roves with glad furprize:
In failings no malignant pleasure takes,
Nor rudely triumphs over small mistakes ;
No nauseous praise, no biting taunts offend,
W'expect a cenfor, and we find a friend.
Poets improv'd by his correcting care,

Shall face their foes with more undaunted air,
Strip'd of their rags, fhall like Ulyffes fhine
With more heroic port and grace divine.
No pomp of learning, and no fund of fenfe,
Can e'er atone for loft benevolence.

May Wickham's fons, who in each art excel,
And rival ancient bards in writing well,
While from their bright examples taught, they fing,
And emulate their flights with bolder wing,
From their own frailties learn the humbler part,
Mildly to judge in gentleness of heart.

Such critics, Ramfay, jealous for our fame,
Will not with malice infolently blame,
But lur'd by praise, the haggard mufe reclaim.

* Vide Hom. Od. lib. xxiv.

Retouch

Retouch each line till all is just and neat,

A whole of proper parts, a work almost complete.

So when fome beauteous dame, a reigning toast, The flow'r of Forth, and proud Edina's boast, Stands at her toilet in her tartan plaid, And all her richest head-gear trimly clad; The curious handmaid, with obfervant eye, Corrects the fwelling hoop that hangs awry; Thro' ev'ry plait her bufy fingers rove, And now she plys below, and then above; With pleafing tattle entertains the fair, Each ribbon smooths, adjusts each rambling hair, Till the gay nymph in her full luftre fhine, And Homer's Juno was not half so fine *.

* Vide Hom. Il. lib. xiv.

1729.

RAMSAY'S ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING.

AGAIN, like the return of day,
From Avon's banks the cheering lay
Warms up a mufe was well nigh loft
In depths of fnow and chilling frost;
But generous praise the foul inspires,

More than rich wines and blazing fires.

Tho' on the Grampians I were chain'd,

And all the winter on me rain'd;

Altho' half starv'd, my sp'rit would spring

Up to new life to hear you fing.

I take even criticism kind,

That sparkles from fo clear a mind :
Friends ought and may point out a spot,
But enemies make all a blot.

Friends fip the honey from the flow'r;
All 's verjuice to the wafpish four.