Epistles To Several Persons: Epistle Iv, To Richard Boyle, Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAABCBADDBBAAAAEEFF BBBBGGBBAAAAAACCBBHH BBFFBB IIAAEEJK BBBBLLBBAA HHMMAAAA NNAAOO AACCEECC BBBBPPQFBB BBBBAAAABB PPLLBBEEAABBBBHHEEQQ AABBAAEE EEBBAA BBBBBBCC RSEELLTTBB HHAAUUBBLLCCBBLEst brevitate opus ut currat sententia neu se | A |
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures | A |
Et sermone opus est modo tristi saepe jocoso | A |
Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetae | B |
Interdum urbani parcentis viribus atque | C |
Extenuantis eas consulto | B |
Horace Satires I x | A |
'Tis strange the miser should his cares employ | D |
To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy | D |
Is it less strange the prodigal should waste | B |
His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste | B |
Not for himself he sees or hears or eats | A |
Artists must choose his pictures music meats | A |
He buys for Topham drawings and designs | A |
For Pembroke statues dirty gods and coins | A |
Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne alone | E |
And books for Mead and butterflies for Sloane | E |
Think we all these are for himself no more | F |
Than his fine wife alas or finer whore | F |
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For what his Virro painted built and planted | B |
Only to show how many tastes he wanted | B |
What brought Sir Visto's ill got wealth to waste | B |
Some daemon whisper'd Visto have a taste | B |
Heav'n visits with a taste the wealthy fool | G |
And needs no rod but Ripley with a rule | G |
See sportive fate to punish awkward pride | B |
Bids Bubo build and sends him such a guide | B |
A standing sermon at each year's expense | A |
That never coxcomb reach'd magnificence | A |
You show us Rome was glorious not profuse | A |
And pompous buildings once were things of use | A |
Yet shall my Lord your just your noble rules | A |
Fill half the land with imitating fools | A |
Who random drawings from your sheets shall take | C |
And of one beauty many blunders make | C |
Load some vain church with old theatric state | B |
Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gate | B |
Reverse your ornaments and hang them all | H |
On some patch'd dog hole ek'd with ends of wall | H |
Then clap four slices of pilaster on't | B |
That lac'd with bits of rustic makes a front | B |
Or call the winds through long arcades to roar | F |
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door | F |
Conscious they act a true Palladian part | B |
And if they starve they starve by rules of art | B |
- | |
Oft have you hinted to your brother peer | I |
A certain truth which many buy too dear | I |
Something there is more needful than expense | A |
And something previous ev'n to taste 'tis sense | A |
Good sense which only is the gift of Heav'n | E |
And though no science fairly worth the sev'n | E |
A light which in yourself you must perceive | J |
Jones and Le Notre have it not to give | K |
- | |
To build to plant whatever you intend | B |
To rear the column or the arch to bend | B |
To swell the terrace or to sink the grot | B |
In all let Nature never be forgot | B |
But treat the goddess like a modest fair | L |
Nor overdress nor leave her wholly bare | L |
Let not each beauty ev'rywhere be spied | B |
Where half the skill is decently to hide | B |
He gains all points who pleasingly confounds | A |
Surprises varies and conceals the bounds | A |
- | |
Consult the genius of the place in all | H |
That tells the waters or to rise or fall | H |
Or helps th' ambitious hill the heav'ns to scale | M |
Or scoops in circling theatres the vale | M |
Calls in the country catches opening glades | A |
Joins willing woods and varies shades from shades | A |
Now breaks or now directs th' intending lines | A |
Paints as you plant and as you work designs | A |
- | |
Still follow sense of ev'ry art the soul | N |
Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a whole | N |
Spontaneous beauties all around advance | A |
Start ev'n from difficulty strike from chance | A |
Nature shall join you time shall make it grow | O |
A work to wonder at perhaps a Stowe | O |
- | |
Without it proud Versailles thy glory falls | A |
And Nero's terraces desert their walls | A |
The vast parterres a thousand hands shall make | C |
Lo Cobham comes and floats them with a lake | C |
Or cut wide views through mountains to the plain | E |
You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat again | E |
Ev'n in an ornament its place remark | C |
Nor in an hermitage set Dr Clarke | C |
- | |
Behold Villario's ten years' toil complete | B |
His quincunx darkens his espaliers meet | B |
The wood supports the plain the parts unite | B |
And strength of shade contends with strength of light | B |
A waving glow his bloomy beds display | P |
Blushing in bright diversities of day | P |
With silver quiv'ring rills meander'd o'er | Q |
Enjoy them you Villario can no more | F |
Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yield | B |
He finds at last he better likes a field | B |
- | |
Through his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus stray'd | B |
Or sat delighted in the thick'ning shade | B |
With annual joy the redd'ning shoots to greet | B |
Or see the stretching branches long to meet | B |
His son's fine taste an op'ner vista loves | A |
Foe to the dryads of his father's groves | A |
One boundless green or flourish'd carpet views | A |
With all the mournful family of yews | A |
The thriving plants ignoble broomsticks made | B |
Now sweep those alleys they were born to shade | B |
- | |
At Timon's villa let us pass a day | P |
Where all cry out What sums are thrown away | P |
So proud so grand of that stupendous air | L |
Soft and agreeable come never there | L |
Greatness with Timon dwells in such a draught | B |
As brings all Brobdingnag before your thought | B |
To compass this his building is a town | E |
His pond an ocean his parterre a down | E |
Who but must laugh the master when he sees | A |
A puny insect shiv'ring at a breeze | A |
Lo what huge heaps of littleness around | B |
The whole a labour'd quarry above ground | B |
Two cupids squirt before a lake behind | B |
Improves the keenness of the Northern wind | B |
His gardens next your admiration call | H |
On ev'ry side you look behold the wall | H |
No pleasing intricacies intervene | E |
No artful wildness to perplex the scene | E |
Grove nods at grove each alley has a brother | Q |
And half the platform just reflects the other | Q |
The suff'ring eye inverted Nature sees | A |
Trees cut to statues statues thick as trees | A |
With here a fountain never to be play'd | B |
And there a summerhouse that knows no shade | B |
Here Amphitrite sails through myrtle bow'rs | A |
There gladiators fight or die in flow'rs | A |
Unwater'd see the drooping sea horse mourn | E |
And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urn | E |
- | |
My Lord advances with majestic mien | E |
Smit with the mighty pleasure to be seen | E |
But soft by regular approach not yet | B |
First through the length of yon hot terrace sweat | B |
And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighs | A |
Just at his study door he'll bless your eyes | A |
- | |
His study with what authors is it stor'd | B |
In books not authors curious is my Lord | B |
To all their dated backs he turns you round | B |
These Aldus printed those Du Sueil has bound | B |
Lo some are vellum and the rest as good | B |
For all his Lordship knows but they are wood | B |
For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to look | C |
These shelves admit not any modern book | C |
- | |
And now the chapel's silver bell you hear | R |
That summons you to all the pride of pray'r | S |
Light quirks of music broken and uneven | E |
Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven | E |
On painted ceilings you devoutly stare | L |
Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre | L |
On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie | T |
And bring all paradise before your eye | T |
To rest the cushion and soft dean invite | B |
Who never mentions Hell to ears polite | B |
- | |
But hark the chiming clocks to dinner call | H |
A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall | H |
The rich buffet well colour'd serpents grace | A |
And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face | A |
Is this a dinner this a genial room | U |
No 'tis a temple and a hecatomb | U |
A solemn sacrifice perform'd in state | B |
You drink by measure and to minutes eat | B |
So quick retires each flying course you'd swear | L |
Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were there | L |
Between each act the trembling salvers ring | C |
From soup to sweet wine and God bless the King | C |
In plenty starving tantaliz'd in state | B |
And complaisantly help'd to all I hate | B |
Treated car | L |
Alexander Pope
(1)
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