Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions Presented and Dedicated to Her Royal Highness, Mary Princess of Orange [by John Cutts] |
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TO THE DUTCHESS OF Monmouth,
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 | Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions |  |
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TO THE DUTCHESS OF Monmouth,
Who honoured me with her Commands to read over Monsieur Boileau's Poems, and give my Opinion of him.
Madam, I come a thousand thanks to pay
To that fair hand that pointed out the way,
And shew'd me where so great a Geinus lay:
Your generous Commands have guided me
To a good Model of true Poetry.
Of all the Modern Writers who have try'd,
With easie Wit, Mens Folly to deride,
Boileau, to me, the most accomplish'd seems;
Bold and Severe, yet free from all extreams.
To that fair hand that pointed out the way,
And shew'd me where so great a Geinus lay:
Your generous Commands have guided me
To a good Model of true Poetry.
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With easie Wit, Mens Folly to deride,
Boileau, to me, the most accomplish'd seems;
Bold and Severe, yet free from all extreams.
Nature to some has giv'n an active Wit,
But hardly Sense enough to manage it;
Who, laughing at the Follies of the Town,
Discover twenty greater of their own.
But hardly Sense enough to manage it;
Who, laughing at the Follies of the Town,
Discover twenty greater of their own.
Others in Judgment only do excel,
And in Affairs of State do pretty well;
But when their Nat'ral Talent they abuse,
And offer Force to an unwilling Muse,
Their awkward Rhymes their very Truth disguise,
And make the World afraid of being wise.
And in Affairs of State do pretty well;
But when their Nat'ral Talent they abuse,
And offer Force to an unwilling Muse,
Their awkward Rhymes their very Truth disguise,
And make the World afraid of being wise.
But Boileau's easie and unerring Wit,
Does ev'ry Coxcomb so exactly hit,
And sets before his eyes so true a Glass,
That Vice no longer can for Vertue pass;
He shews the Hipocrites affected zeal,
That lyes in talking, not in doing well;
His high Pretences serving for a blind,
In God-Almighty's Name to cheat Mankind.
Does ev'ry Coxcomb so exactly hit,
And sets before his eyes so true a Glass,
That Vice no longer can for Vertue pass;
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That lyes in talking, not in doing well;
His high Pretences serving for a blind,
In God-Almighty's Name to cheat Mankind.
But does not bid us to avoid that Evil;
Declare for down-right Atheism, or the Devil:
As the rash Libertine is wont to do,
(Something the shallower Monster of the two)
Who Vertue impudently ridicules,
And swears that all Religious Men are Fools;
'Till dying as he lives, like a dull Beast,
He's damn'd in earnest, and so spoils his Jeast.
Declare for down-right Atheism, or the Devil:
As the rash Libertine is wont to do,
(Something the shallower Monster of the two)
Who Vertue impudently ridicules,
And swears that all Religious Men are Fools;
'Till dying as he lives, like a dull Beast,
He's damn'd in earnest, and so spoils his Jeast.
He shews a Fool that reads huge Volumes o're,
And is no wiser than he was before;
Who fills his Head with empty terms, and looks
For Wisdom no where but in musty Books;
'Tis not conversing with the Dead will do,
Unless sometimes one reads the Living too.
And is no wiser than he was before;
Who fills his Head with empty terms, and looks
For Wisdom no where but in musty Books;
'Tis not conversing with the Dead will do,
Unless sometimes one reads the Living too.
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If an illiterate Sot of Quality
Would make true Knowledge pass for Pedantry,
Despising Letters, as Mechanick Arts,
Too mean for Gentlemen, and Men-o'-Parts;
While his whole Business is to Comb and Dress,
And in a Billet-doux his Mind express;
At every Publick Meeting to appear,
And with some Nonsense plague some Lady's Ear;
What-e're he finds in his own flatt'ring Glass,
I'm sure in Boileau's he's an arrant Ass.
Would make true Knowledge pass for Pedantry,
Despising Letters, as Mechanick Arts,
Too mean for Gentlemen, and Men-o'-Parts;
While his whole Business is to Comb and Dress,
And in a Billet-doux his Mind express;
At every Publick Meeting to appear,
And with some Nonsense plague some Lady's Ear;
What-e're he finds in his own flatt'ring Glass,
I'm sure in Boileau's he's an arrant Ass.
He tells us what is true Nobility,
Not mouldy Parchments, and a Pedigree,
Tho' drawn from Cæsar's or Achilles Blood,
Unless a Man be Valiant, Just, and Good:
If a gay Bawble, of high Titles Proud,
Serves meerly to be gaz'd at by the Croud,
And by his Ancestors is only known,
Not having any Merit of his own;
Tho' in his Father's Fame he glories so,
How is it possible for him to know,
But that his Mother, in a wanton Vein,
Suffer'd some loose Gallant to cross the Strein?
Not mouldy Parchments, and a Pedigree,
Tho' drawn from Cæsar's or Achilles Blood,
Unless a Man be Valiant, Just, and Good:
If a gay Bawble, of high Titles Proud,
Serves meerly to be gaz'd at by the Croud,
And by his Ancestors is only known,
Not having any Merit of his own;
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How is it possible for him to know,
But that his Mother, in a wanton Vein,
Suffer'd some loose Gallant to cross the Strein?
Sometimes our Satyrist employs his Pen,
To copy out another sort of Men;
Those scribling Interlopers, who without
Commission from Apollo venture out.
To copy out another sort of Men;
Those scribling Interlopers, who without
Commission from Apollo venture out.
Here in a Song some Fopling of the Town,
Who has a Mind to have his Talent known,
In cool Blood curses Fate, and Sighs, and Crys,
And at the end of the Fourth Stanza dyes.
Who has a Mind to have his Talent known,
In cool Blood curses Fate, and Sighs, and Crys,
And at the end of the Fourth Stanza dyes.
There a mean fawning Fellow skrews a Lye
To such a senseless pitch of Flattery,
As is beyond the greatest Mortals due;
And ridicules his Muse, and Hero too.
To such a senseless pitch of Flattery,
As is beyond the greatest Mortals due;
And ridicules his Muse, and Hero too.
But whither is't my heedless Muse would run?
Madam, I hope you'l pardon what sh' has done:
Before so great a Judge of Sense and Wit,
She should not once pretend to talk of it;
Yet when I read th' illustrious Boileau's Verse,
Something so very charming there appears,
And with so strange a heat inspires my Pen;
But hold, My Muse would fain begin agen,
No, I shall teach her a far better Way,
Since she to Boileau's Fame will Tribute pay;
And, Madam, I shall give him full his due,
By only saying, that he pleases You.
Madam, I hope you'l pardon what sh' has done:
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She should not once pretend to talk of it;
Yet when I read th' illustrious Boileau's Verse,
Something so very charming there appears,
And with so strange a heat inspires my Pen;
But hold, My Muse would fain begin agen,
No, I shall teach her a far better Way,
Since she to Boileau's Fame will Tribute pay;
And, Madam, I shall give him full his due,
By only saying, that he pleases You.
| Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions | |