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 |  |
Thus Homer's Muse from Heav'n to Earth retir'd,
When to the utmost height she had aspir'd,
Leaving to Poets such an epick Plan,
As if devis'd by Angels, not by Man:
What tho' he beg'd relief of tender Hearts,
His Wants were no dishonour to his Parts,
But show'd his Genius too sublimely great
For a dull World, that knew his Worth too late;
Tho' Heav'n, perhaps, that had inspir'd his Mind,
Might kindly suff'r him to be Poor and Blind,
That no temptation should debase a Soul
Of Wit and Virtue so divinely full;
For beauteous Objects, that engage the Sight,
Bend not our Thoughts to Wisdom, but delight;
And Wealth, that Bawd to e'ery loose design,
Does the frail Heart to sensual Joys incline:
Therefore, had the immortal Greek possess'd
Redundant Riches, or with Sight been bless'd,
The seven contending Towns, perhaps, had heard
No news of Trojan Wars, or Grecian Bard;
All the brave Heroes in those Battles slain,
Had in Oblivion's Grave long since been lain;
Fair Helen's Character entirely lost,
And Seas of Blood forgot her Beauty cost;
No great Examples left upon record,
To spirit up yoang Princes to the Sword;
Or teach poor suff'ring Nations to betake
Themselves to glorious Arms for Justice sake,
That when by Tyrants they're in Slav'ry held,
Force may, by Force, be gallantly repell'd;
No Wits inspir'd by his exemplar Worth,
But Dulness must have reign'd thro' all the Earth;
Then had the Dunciad Author gain'd renown,
And his tame Hero bully'd all the Town;
For if a Dunce shall in Heroicks bear
Against all rule, the leading Character,
And Epick Bards may seat a stupid Ass,
Where none but warlike Princes should have place,
Then in an Age when Men are least polite,
Dulness must set off what such Poets write,
As a dark foil makes Jewels shine more bright.
When to the utmost height she had aspir'd,
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As if devis'd by Angels, not by Man:
What tho' he beg'd relief of tender Hearts,
His Wants were no dishonour to his Parts,
But show'd his Genius too sublimely great
For a dull World, that knew his Worth too late;
Tho' Heav'n, perhaps, that had inspir'd his Mind,
Might kindly suff'r him to be Poor and Blind,
That no temptation should debase a Soul
Of Wit and Virtue so divinely full;
For beauteous Objects, that engage the Sight,
Bend not our Thoughts to Wisdom, but delight;
And Wealth, that Bawd to e'ery loose design,
Does the frail Heart to sensual Joys incline:
Therefore, had the immortal Greek possess'd
Redundant Riches, or with Sight been bless'd,
The seven contending Towns, perhaps, had heard
No news of Trojan Wars, or Grecian Bard;
All the brave Heroes in those Battles slain,
Had in Oblivion's Grave long since been lain;
48
And Seas of Blood forgot her Beauty cost;
No great Examples left upon record,
To spirit up yoang Princes to the Sword;
Or teach poor suff'ring Nations to betake
Themselves to glorious Arms for Justice sake,
That when by Tyrants they're in Slav'ry held,
Force may, by Force, be gallantly repell'd;
No Wits inspir'd by his exemplar Worth,
But Dulness must have reign'd thro' all the Earth;
Then had the Dunciad Author gain'd renown,
And his tame Hero bully'd all the Town;
For if a Dunce shall in Heroicks bear
Against all rule, the leading Character,
And Epick Bards may seat a stupid Ass,
Where none but warlike Princes should have place,
Then in an Age when Men are least polite,
Dulness must set off what such Poets write,
As a dark foil makes Jewels shine more bright.
| Durgen | |