 | The Art of Poetry |  |
Epigram.
The Epigram, with little art compos'd,Is one good sentence in a Distich clos'd.
These points, that by Italians first were priz'd,
Our ancient Authors knew not, or despis'd :
The Vulgar, dazled with their glaring Light,
To their false pleasures quickly they invite ;
But publick Favor so increas'd their pride,
They overwhelm'd Parnassus with their Tide .
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And the proud Sonnet fell by the same Doom ;
With these grave Tragedy adorn'd her flights,
And mournful Elegy her Funeral Rites :
A Hero never fail'd 'em on the Stage,
Without this point a Lover durst not rage ;
The Amorous Shepherds took more care to prove
True to their Point, than Faithful to their Love.
Each word, like Janus, had a double face :
And Prose, as well as Verse allow'd it place :
The Lawyer with Conceits adorn'd his Speech,
The Parson without Quibling could not Preach,
At last affronted Reason look'd about,
And from all serious matters shut 'em out :
Declar'd that none should use 'em without Shame,
Except a scattering in the Epigram ;
Provided that, by Art, and in due time
They turn'd upon the Thought, and not the Rhime.
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Yet Quiblers in the Court had leave to prate :
Insipid Jesters, and unpleasant Fools,
A Corporation of dull Punning Drolls.
'Tis not, but that sometimes a dextrous Muse
May with advantage a turn'd Sence abuse,
And, on a word, may trifle with address ;
But above all avoid the fond excess,
And think not, when your Verse and Sence are lame,
With a dull Point to Tag your Epigram.
Each Poem his Perfection has apart ;
The Brittish Round in plainness shows his Art ;
The Ballad, tho the pride of Ancient time,
Has often nothing but his humorous Rhyme ;
The † Madrigal may softer Passions move,
And breath the tender Ecstasies of Love :
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Arm'd Virtue first with Satyr in its Tongue.
| The Art of Poetry | |