Poetry. Alexander Pope

Чтение книги онлайн.

PART FIRST.

       Table of Contents

      'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill

       Appear in writing or in judging ill;

       But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence

       To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.

       Some few in that, but numbers err in this;

       Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;

       A fool might once himself alone expose,

       Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

       'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none

       Go just alike, yet each believes his own. 10

       In poets as true genius is but rare,

       True taste as seldom, is the critic's share;

       Both must alike from Heaven derive their light,

       These born to judge, as well as those to write.

       Let such teach others who themselves excel.

       And censure freely who have written well.

       Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,

       But are not critics to their judgment too?

       Yet if we look more closely, we shall find

       Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind: 20

       Nature affords at least a glimmering light;

       The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.

       But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,

       Is by ill colouring but the more disgraced,

       So by false learning is good sense defaced:

       Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,

       And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.

       In search of wit these lose their common sense,

       And then turn critics in their own defence:

       Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write, 30

       Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's spite.

       All fools have still an itching to deride,

       And fain would be upon the laughing side;

       If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spite,

       There are who judge still worse than he can write.

       Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd,

       Turn'd critics next, and proved plain fools at last.

       Some neither can for wits nor critics pass,

       As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

       Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle, 40

       As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;

       СКАЧАТЬ