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 HHAAUUBBLLCCBBL

Est brevitate opus ut currat sententia neu seA
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus auresA
Et sermone opus est modo tristi saepe jocosoA
Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque PoetaeB
Interdum urbani parcentis viribus atqueC
Extenuantis eas consultoB
Horace Satires I xA
'Tis strange the miser should his cares employD
To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoyD
Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteB
His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can tasteB
Not for himself he sees or hears or eatsA
Artists must choose his pictures music meatsA
He buys for Topham drawings and designsA
For Pembroke statues dirty gods and coinsA
Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne aloneE
And books for Mead and butterflies for SloaneE
Think we all these are for himself no moreF
Than his fine wife alas or finer whoreF
-
For what his Virro painted built and plantedB
Only to show how many tastes he wantedB
What brought Sir Visto's ill got wealth to wasteB
Some daemon whisper'd Visto have a tasteB
Heav'n visits with a taste the wealthy foolG
And needs no rod but Ripley with a ruleG
See sportive fate to punish awkward prideB
Bids Bubo build and sends him such a guideB
A standing sermon at each year's expenseA
That never coxcomb reach'd magnificenceA
You show us Rome was glorious not profuseA
And pompous buildings once were things of useA
Yet shall my Lord your just your noble rulesA
Fill half the land with imitating foolsA
Who random drawings from your sheets shall takeC
And of one beauty many blunders makeC
Load some vain church with old theatric stateB
Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gateB
Reverse your ornaments and hang them allH
On some patch'd dog hole ek'd with ends of wallH
Then clap four slices of pilaster on'tB
That lac'd with bits of rustic makes a frontB
Or call the winds through long arcades to roarF
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian doorF
Conscious they act a true Palladian partB
And if they starve they starve by rules of artB
-
Oft have you hinted to your brother peerI
A certain truth which many buy too dearI
Something there is more needful than expenseA
And something previous ev'n to taste 'tis senseA
Good sense which only is the gift of Heav'nE
And though no science fairly worth the sev'nE
A light which in yourself you must perceiveJ
Jones and Le Notre have it not to giveK
-
To build to plant whatever you intendB
To rear the column or the arch to bendB
To swell the terrace or to sink the grotB
In all let Nature never be forgotB
But treat the goddess like a modest fairL
Nor overdress nor leave her wholly bareL
Let not each beauty ev'rywhere be spiedB
Where half the skill is decently to hideB
He gains all points who pleasingly confoundsA
Surprises varies and conceals the boundsA
-
Consult the genius of the place in allH
That tells the waters or to rise or fallH
Or helps th' ambitious hill the heav'ns to scaleM
Or scoops in circling theatres the valeM
Calls in the country catches opening gladesA
Joins willing woods and varies shades from shadesA
Now breaks or now directs th' intending linesA
Paints as you plant and as you work designsA
-
Still follow sense of ev'ry art the soulN
Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a wholeN
Spontaneous beauties all around advanceA
Start ev'n from difficulty strike from chanceA
Nature shall join you time shall make it growO
A work to wonder at perhaps a StoweO
-
Without it proud Versailles thy glory fallsA
And Nero's terraces desert their wallsA
The vast parterres a thousand hands shall makeC
Lo Cobham comes and floats them with a lakeC
Or cut wide views through mountains to the plainE
You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat againE
Ev'n in an ornament its place remarkC
Nor in an hermitage set Dr ClarkeC
-
Behold Villario's ten years' toil completeB
His quincunx darkens his espaliers meetB
The wood supports the plain the parts uniteB
And strength of shade contends with strength of lightB
A waving glow his bloomy beds displayP
Blushing in bright diversities of dayP
With silver quiv'ring rills meander'd o'erQ
Enjoy them you Villario can no moreF
Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yieldB
He finds at last he better likes a fieldB
-
Through his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus stray'dB
Or sat delighted in the thick'ning shadeB
With annual joy the redd'ning shoots to greetB
Or see the stretching branches long to meetB
His son's fine taste an op'ner vista lovesA
Foe to the dryads of his father's grovesA
One boundless green or flourish'd carpet viewsA
With all the mournful family of yewsA
The thriving plants ignoble broomsticks madeB
Now sweep those alleys they were born to shadeB
-
At Timon's villa let us pass a dayP
Where all cry out What sums are thrown awayP
So proud so grand of that stupendous airL
Soft and agreeable come never thereL
Greatness with Timon dwells in such a draughtB
As brings all Brobdingnag before your thoughtB
To compass this his building is a townE
His pond an ocean his parterre a downE
Who but must laugh the master when he seesA
A puny insect shiv'ring at a breezeA
Lo what huge heaps of littleness aroundB
The whole a labour'd quarry above groundB
Two cupids squirt before a lake behindB
Improves the keenness of the Northern windB
His gardens next your admiration callH
On ev'ry side you look behold the wallH
No pleasing intricacies interveneE
No artful wildness to perplex the sceneE
Grove nods at grove each alley has a brotherQ
And half the platform just reflects the otherQ
The suff'ring eye inverted Nature seesA
Trees cut to statues statues thick as treesA
With here a fountain never to be play'dB
And there a summerhouse that knows no shadeB
Here Amphitrite sails through myrtle bow'rsA
There gladiators fight or die in flow'rsA
Unwater'd see the drooping sea horse mournE
And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urnE
-
My Lord advances with majestic mienE
Smit with the mighty pleasure to be seenE
But soft by regular approach not yetB
First through the length of yon hot terrace sweatB
And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighsA
Just at his study door he'll bless your eyesA
-
His study with what authors is it stor'dB
In books not authors curious is my LordB
To all their dated backs he turns you roundB
These Aldus printed those Du Sueil has boundB
Lo some are vellum and the rest as goodB
For all his Lordship knows but they are woodB
For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to lookC
These shelves admit not any modern bookC
-
And now the chapel's silver bell you hearR
That summons you to all the pride of pray'rS
Light quirks of music broken and unevenE
Make the soul dance upon a jig to heavenE
On painted ceilings you devoutly stareL
Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or LaguerreL
On gilded clouds in fair expansion lieT
And bring all paradise before your eyeT
To rest the cushion and soft dean inviteB
Who never mentions Hell to ears politeB
-
But hark the chiming clocks to dinner callH
A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hallH
The rich buffet well colour'd serpents graceA
And gaping Tritons spew to wash your faceA
Is this a dinner this a genial roomU
No 'tis a temple and a hecatombU
A solemn sacrifice perform'd in stateB
You drink by measure and to minutes eatB
So quick retires each flying course you'd swearL
Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were thereL
Between each act the trembling salvers ringC
From soup to sweet wine and God bless the KingC
In plenty starving tantaliz'd in stateB
And complaisantly help'd to all I hateB
Treated carL

Alexander Pope



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