ERRATA.

Page 26, line 35 latin, for capace read capacem. 34, Rule IX. at the bottom of the page, for drapery of read drapery to the head.

35, line 132 latin, after figuræ dele ?

103, 15, for Frati read Frari.

234,
236,

8, for gentleness read gentilness.
1, ditto.

267, after Nicolo del Pomerancio, 240, instead of 3 read 8.
277, end of the first line of G, for an read any.

288, line 24, after genius, instead of who read which.

380, last line but one, instead of a necessary read as necessary.

EPISTLE

TO

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

WHEN Dryden, worn with sickness, bow'd with years,

Was doom'd (my Friend, let pity warm thy tears,)

The galling pang of penury to feel,

For

For ill-placed loyalty, and courtly zeal,
To see that laurel which his brows o'erspread,
Transplanted droop on Shadwell's barren head,
The Bard oppress'd, yet not subdued by fate,
very bread descended to translate:
And he, whose fancy, copious as his phrase,
Could light at will expression's brightest blaze,
On Fresnoy's lay employ'd his studious hour;
But niggard there of that melodious power,
His pen in haste the hireling task to close
Transform'd the studied strain to careless prose,
Which, fondly lending faith to French pretence,
Mistook its meaning, or obscur'd its sense.

Yet still he pleas'd; for Dryden still must please, Whether with artless elegance and ease

He glides in prose, or from its tinkling chime,

By varied pauses, purifies his rhyme,

And mounts on Maro's plumes, and soars his heights

sublime.

This artless elegance, this native fire Provok'd his tuneful heir* to strike the lyre, Who, proud his numbers with that prose to join, Wove an illustrious wreath for Friendship's shrine.

How oft, on that fair shrine when Poets bind The flowers of song, does partial passion blind Their judgment's eye! How oft does truth disclaim The deed, and scorn to call it genuine fame! How did she here, when Jervas was the theme, Waft thro' the ivory gate the Poet's dream! How view, indignant, error's base alloy The sterling lustre of his praise destroy. Which now, if praise like his my Muse could coin, Current through ages, she would stamp for thine!

Let Friendship, as she caus'd, excuse the deed; With thee, and such as thee, she must succeed.

NOTE.

* Mr. Pope, in his Epistle to Jervas, has these lines:

Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire
Fresnoy's close art with Dryden's native fire.