Durgen Or, A Plain Satyr upon a Pompous Satyrist. Amicably Inscrib'd, by the Author, to those Worthy and Ingenious Gentlemen misrepresented in a late invective Poem, call'd, The Dunciad [by Edward Ward] |
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 | Durgen |  |
Satyr, in former Ages was design'd,
Not to affront, but to reform Mankind,
And to reduce, by Arguments of weight,
Licentious Nations to a Civil State;
That growing Vice might early be suppress'd,
And blooming Virtue in its room caress'd:
Pers'nal Reflections, Men of Art must own,
Cease to be Satyr, and become Lampoon,
And should against no rival Wit be us'd,
Except by him that has been first abus'd;
The meanest Man, when injur'd in his fame,
Is prone by nature to revenge the same,
And if unjustly pelted, will, in course,
Fling back the dirt receiv'd, with greater force,
Then, surely, he that treats his Friends with scorn,
Deserves a more than adequate return:
The Brute who in derision, flirts a Glass
Of Wine or Beer, in his Companion's Face,
Merits a Pale-full, if it's near at hand,
From him that has the first affront sustain'd.
So, the proud Poet, who, to show his Wit,
Shall with contempt all other Authors treat,
Ought to expect and patiently receive
Worse usage, than his Muse presum'd to give,
For injuries, like Money lent in Trade,
Should always with good int'rest be repaid.
No Man has Title, by superior Parts,
To tyrannize o'er those of less deserts;
For vulgar Quarrels teach the World to know,
Th'assaulted Slave will his resentment show,
And maul th'Agressor with a double Blow.
Not to affront, but to reform Mankind,
And to reduce, by Arguments of weight,
Licentious Nations to a Civil State;
That growing Vice might early be suppress'd,
And blooming Virtue in its room caress'd:
Pers'nal Reflections, Men of Art must own,
Cease to be Satyr, and become Lampoon,
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Except by him that has been first abus'd;
The meanest Man, when injur'd in his fame,
Is prone by nature to revenge the same,
And if unjustly pelted, will, in course,
Fling back the dirt receiv'd, with greater force,
Then, surely, he that treats his Friends with scorn,
Deserves a more than adequate return:
The Brute who in derision, flirts a Glass
Of Wine or Beer, in his Companion's Face,
Merits a Pale-full, if it's near at hand,
From him that has the first affront sustain'd.
So, the proud Poet, who, to show his Wit,
Shall with contempt all other Authors treat,
Ought to expect and patiently receive
Worse usage, than his Muse presum'd to give,
For injuries, like Money lent in Trade,
Should always with good int'rest be repaid.
No Man has Title, by superior Parts,
To tyrannize o'er those of less deserts;
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Th'assaulted Slave will his resentment show,
And maul th'Agressor with a double Blow.
What pains and care do men of Virtue take,
And hazards daily run for Honour's sake?
What obstacles surmount in quest of Fame?
The Soldier's darling and the Scholar's aim:
And when it's fairly won by worthy means,
Must it be sully'd by licentious Pens?
And made by Poets, who in safety sit,
The common Theme of their invective Wit?
If so, then none must pass for Men of Sense,
But those who feed their needy Palms with Pence;
And e'ery Scholar's Works be treated ill,?
Unless they're stamp'd with some fam'd Poet's seal,
Who proudly thinks, in his imperious Breast,
Is lodg'd the pow'r of damning all the rest,
As if 'twas petty Treason 'gainst the Nine,
For any daring modern Bard to coin,
Without his approbation, one good Line.
And hazards daily run for Honour's sake?
What obstacles surmount in quest of Fame?
The Soldier's darling and the Scholar's aim:
And when it's fairly won by worthy means,
Must it be sully'd by licentious Pens?
And made by Poets, who in safety sit,
The common Theme of their invective Wit?
If so, then none must pass for Men of Sense,
But those who feed their needy Palms with Pence;
And e'ery Scholar's Works be treated ill,?
Unless they're stamp'd with some fam'd Poet's seal,
Who proudly thinks, in his imperious Breast,
Is lodg'd the pow'r of damning all the rest,
As if 'twas petty Treason 'gainst the Nine,
For any daring modern Bard to coin,
Without his approbation, one good Line.
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This, Durgen, is the present case, we see,
We know you're angry, so indeed are we;
Your late reproaches, whilst the injur'd live,
None can forget, and very few forgive:
Wounds of a Pen, more cutting than a Sword,
Altho' they seldom kill, are rarely cur'd,
But, like a Mad-Dog's bite, they grieve the part,
And make the Patient mad that feels the smart.
Then pray take care, next Satyr that you write,
Your Characters are just, your Scandal light,
And that you show more Manners and less spight.
We know you're angry, so indeed are we;
Your late reproaches, whilst the injur'd live,
None can forget, and very few forgive:
Wounds of a Pen, more cutting than a Sword,
Altho' they seldom kill, are rarely cur'd,
But, like a Mad-Dog's bite, they grieve the part,
And make the Patient mad that feels the smart.
Then pray take care, next Satyr that you write,
Your Characters are just, your Scandal light,
And that you show more Manners and less spight.
| Durgen | |