An Essay on Translated Verse By the Earl of Roscommon [i.e. Wentworth Dillon]. The Second Edition Corrected and Enlarg'd |
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To the Earl of Roscomon, on his Excellent Essay on Translated Verse.
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 | An Essay on Translated Verse |  |
To the Earl of Roscomon, on his Excellent Essay on Translated Verse.
While
Satyr pleas'd, and nothing else was writ
But pure ill nature pass'd for noblest Wit.
Some priviledg'd Climes the poisonous weeds refuse:
But when a generous understanding Muse
Does richer fruits from happier soils Translate,
W' are sent to Ireland, by reverse of fate.
Yet you, I know, with Plato would disdain
To write and equal the Mæonian strain?
If 'twould debauch your humour so far forth
To think so mean a thing, enhanc'd your worth.
For were that praise, and only that your due,
Which Virgil too might claim no less than you,
Tho that had merited my bare esteem,
I'de leave to other pens the single Theme.
But when I saw the Candor of your mind,
A Muse inur'd to Camps, in Courts refin'd,
A Soul e'vn capable of being a friend.
Free from those follies which the great attend;
I grant such excellence my Soul did fire,
Unable to commend, I will admire.
But pure ill nature pass'd for noblest Wit.
Some priviledg'd Climes the poisonous weeds refuse:
But when a generous understanding Muse
Does richer fruits from happier soils Translate,
W' are sent to Ireland, by reverse of fate.
Yet you, I know, with Plato would disdain
To write and equal the Mæonian strain?
To think so mean a thing, enhanc'd your worth.
For were that praise, and only that your due,
Which Virgil too might claim no less than you,
Tho that had merited my bare esteem,
I'de leave to other pens the single Theme.
But when I saw the Candor of your mind,
A Muse inur'd to Camps, in Courts refin'd,
A Soul e'vn capable of being a friend.
Free from those follies which the great attend;
I grant such excellence my Soul did fire,
Unable to commend, I will admire.
‘Happy the man when no concern is nigh,
‘But Nature's wanton, and his blood runs high,
‘Who free from Cares enjoys without controul,
‘His Muse, the darling Mistriss of his Soul,
‘No tedious Court his appetite destroys,
‘Nor thoughts of gain pollute the rapturous Joys.
‘The Dear Minerva's form'd without a pain
‘And nothing less, could spring from such a brain.
‘And yet his Godlike pity he imparts
‘To those that drudge at Duty against their hearts,
‘And to illiberal uses wrest the Liberal Arts—
‘But Nature's wanton, and his blood runs high,
‘Who free from Cares enjoys without controul,
‘His Muse, the darling Mistriss of his Soul,
‘No tedious Court his appetite destroys,
‘Nor thoughts of gain pollute the rapturous Joys.
‘The Dear Minerva's form'd without a pain
‘And nothing less, could spring from such a brain.
‘And yet his Godlike pity he imparts
‘To those that drudge at Duty against their hearts,
‘And to illiberal uses wrest the Liberal Arts—
When I observe the wonders you explain
Too much the Antients you commend—in vain,
In vain you would endeavour to perswade
That all our Laws were in those Archives laid:
That Poetry must ever stand unmov'd,
The only art Experience ha'nt improv'd.
But grant their rites were to Religion grown,
Sure they concern no Countrys but their own:
For let Æneid pass through other hands,
The Æneids self a third-rate Poet stands:
Unfit to reach the heights that he has flown,
We wisely to our level bring him down,
Himself had writ'less sweet, and less sublime
In any other tongue or other time.
Too much the Antients you commend—in vain,
That all our Laws were in those Archives laid:
That Poetry must ever stand unmov'd,
The only art Experience ha'nt improv'd.
But grant their rites were to Religion grown,
Sure they concern no Countrys but their own:
For let Æneid pass through other hands,
The Æneids self a third-rate Poet stands:
Unfit to reach the heights that he has flown,
We wisely to our level bring him down,
Himself had writ'less sweet, and less sublime
In any other tongue or other time.
And now, my Lord, on this account I grieve,
To think how different from your self you'l live.
When this inimitable peice is shown,
In Languages and Empires yet unknown.
It will be Learning then to know and hear
Not only what you wrote, but what you were.
To think how different from your self you'l live.
When this inimitable peice is shown,
In Languages and Empires yet unknown.
It will be Learning then to know and hear
Not only what you wrote, but what you were.
J. Amherst.
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