John Sheffield, Duke Of Buckingham.[2]

ON MR. POPE AND HIS POEMS.

With age decayed, with courts and bus'ness tired, Caring for nothing but what ease required; Too dully serious for the muses' sport, And from the critics safe arrived in port; I little thought of launching forth again, Amidst advent'rous rovers of the pen: And after so much undeserved success, Thus hazarding at last to make it less. Encomiums suit not this censorious time, Itself a subject for satiric rhyme; Ignorance honoured, wit and worth defamed, Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blamed! But to this genius, joined with so much art, Such various learning mixed in ev'ry part, Poets are bound a loud applause to pay; Apollo bids it, and they must obey. And yet so wonderful, sublime a thing As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing, Except I justly could at once commend A good companion, and as firm a friend, One moral, or a mere well-natured deed Can all desert in sciences exceed. 'Tis great delight to laugh at some men's ways, But a much greater to give merit praise.