 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
211
Advice to Apollo,
1678.
I've heard the Muses were still soft and kind,
To Malice Foes, to gentle Love inclin'd;
And that Parnassus Hill was fresh and gay,
Crown'd still with Flowers as in the fairest May:
That Helicon with Pleasures charm'd the Soul,
Could Anger tame, and restless Care controul:
That bright Apollo still delights in Mirth,
Chearing (each welcome day) the drowsie Earth;
Then whence comes Satyr, is it Poetry?
O great Apollo, God of Harmony!
Far be't from thee, this cruel Art t'inspire,
Then strike these Wretches who thus dare aspire,
To tax thy gentleness, making thee seem
Malicious as their Thought, harsh as their Theme.
To Malice Foes, to gentle Love inclin'd;
And that Parnassus Hill was fresh and gay,
Crown'd still with Flowers as in the fairest May:
That Helicon with Pleasures charm'd the Soul,
Could Anger tame, and restless Care controul:
That bright Apollo still delights in Mirth,
Chearing (each welcome day) the drowsie Earth;
Then whence comes Satyr, is it Poetry?
O great Apollo, God of Harmony!
Far be't from thee, this cruel Art t'inspire,
Then strike these Wretches who thus dare aspire,
To tax thy gentleness, making thee seem
Malicious as their Thought, harsh as their Theme.
First, strike Sir Carr, that Knight o'th' wither'd Face,
Who (for th'reversion of a Poet's place)
Waits on Melpomene, and sooths her Grace;
That angry Miss alone he strives to please,
For fear the rest should teach him Wit and Ease,
And make him quit his lov'd laborious Walks,
When sad or silent o'er the Room he stalks,
And strives to write as wisely as he talks.
Who (for th'reversion of a Poet's place)
Waits on Melpomene, and sooths her Grace;
That angry Miss alone he strives to please,
For fear the rest should teach him Wit and Ease,
And make him quit his lov'd laborious Walks,
When sad or silent o'er the Room he stalks,
And strives to write as wisely as he talks.
Next with a gentle Dart strike Dryden down,
Who but begins to aim at the Renown
Bestow'd on Satyrists, and quits the Stage,
To lash the witty Follies of the Age.
Strike him but gently that he may return,
Write Plays again, and his past Follies mourn.
He had better make Almanzor give offence
In fifty Lines without one word of Sense,
Than thus offend and wittily deserve,
What will ensue with his lov'd Muse to starve.
Who but begins to aim at the Renown
Bestow'd on Satyrists, and quits the Stage,
To lash the witty Follies of the Age.
Strike him but gently that he may return,
Write Plays again, and his past Follies mourn.
He had better make Almanzor give offence
In fifty Lines without one word of Sense,
Than thus offend and wittily deserve,
What will ensue with his lov'd Muse to starve.
212
D---set writes Satyr too, but writes so well,
O great Apollo! let him still rebell,
Pardon a Muse which does so far excell:
Pardon a Muse which does with Art support,
Some drowsie wit in our unthinking Court.
O great Apollo! let him still rebell,
Pardon a Muse which does so far excell:
Pardon a Muse which does with Art support,
Some drowsie wit in our unthinking Court.
But M---ve strike with many angry Dart,
He who profanes thy Name offends thy Art
Ne'er saw thy Light yet would usurp thy Power,
And govern Wit, and be its Emperour.
In fee with Dryden to be counted wise,
Who tells the World he has both Wit and Eyes.
He who profanes thy Name offends thy Art
Ne'er saw thy Light yet would usurp thy Power,
And govern Wit, and be its Emperour.
In fee with Dryden to be counted wise,
Who tells the World he has both Wit and Eyes.
Rochester's easie Muse does still improve,
Each hour thy little wealthy World of Love,
(That World in which each Muse is thought a Queen)
That he must be forgiven in charity then;
Though his sharp Satyrs have offended thee;
In charity to Love who will decay,
When his delightfull Muse (its only stay)
Is by thy Power severely ta'ne away.
Forbear (then) Civil Wars, and strike not down
Love, who alone supports thy tottering Crown.
Each hour thy little wealthy World of Love,
(That World in which each Muse is thought a Queen)
That he must be forgiven in charity then;
Though his sharp Satyrs have offended thee;
In charity to Love who will decay,
When his delightfull Muse (its only stay)
Is by thy Power severely ta'ne away.
Forbear (then) Civil Wars, and strike not down
Love, who alone supports thy tottering Crown.
But sawcy Sh---ard with th'affected train,
Who Satyrs write, yet scarce can spell their Name,
Blast great Apollo with perpetual shame.
Who Satyrs write, yet scarce can spell their Name,
Blast great Apollo with perpetual shame.
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