Epistles To Mr. Pope. Epistle I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFFGGHHIJKKLL MMNNOOPPQQRRSSHHTTUV WWXXDDYYZZA2A2B2B2C2 C2GGSSD2D2E2E2E2E2TT F2G2E2E2H2H2I2I2DDJ2 J2K2K2L2M2N2N2J2J2O2 O2E2E2P2P2E2E2E2E2Q2 Q2BBR2R2M2M2E2E2E2E2 S2S2J2J2T2T2U2U2HHV2 KW2W2KKX2X2E2E2Y2Y2Z 2Z2A3A3B3B3E2E2G2G2U 2U2C3C3E2E2D3D3E3E3U 2U2U2U2F3G3U2U2E2E2U 2U2U2U2SN2U2U2U2U2E2 E2H3H3E2E2U2U2E2E2E2 E2I3I3SSJ3J3K3K3I3I3 L3M3N3N3E2E2U2U2O3O3 FFE2E2D3D3U2U2U2U2E2 E2E2E2E2E2E2E2E2E2GP 3U2U2U2U2E2E2AAS2KU2 U2U2U2E2E2SSH2HKKP3P 3N3N3T2T2U2U2E2E2U2U 2D3D3U2U2Q3Q3U2U2HHH 2H2C3C3R3R3U2U2C3C3U 2U2U2U2E2E2E2E2S3S3E 2E2G3G3FFE2E2IIE2E2E 2E2U2U2U2U2C3C3

Concerning the Authors of the Age	A
	-
Whilst you at Twickenham plan the future wood	B
Or turn the volumes of the wise and good	B
Our senate meets at parties parties bawl	C
And pamphlets stun the streets and load the stall	C
So rushing tides bring things obscene to light	D
Foul wrecks emerge and dead dogs swim in sight	D
The civil torrent foams the tumult reigns	E
And Codrus' prose works up and Lico's strains	E
Lo what from cellars rise what rush from high	F
Where speculation roosted near the sky	F
Letters essays sock buskin satire song	G
And all the garret thunders on the throng	G
O Pope I burst nor can nor will refrain	H
I'll write let others in their turn complain	H
Truce truce ye Vandals my tormented ear	I
Less dreads a pillory than a pamphleteer	J
I've heard myself to death and plagu'd each hour	K
Shan't I return the vengeance in my power	K
For who can write the true absurd like me	L
Thy pardon Codrus who I mean but thee	L
Pope if like mine or Codrus' were thy style	M
The blood of vipers had not stain'd thy file	M
Merit less solid less despite had bred	N
They had not bit and then they had not bled	N
Fame is a public mistress none enjoys	O
But more or less his rival's peace destroys	O
With fame in just proportion envy grows	P
The man that makes a character makes foes	P
Slight peevish insects round a genius rise	Q
As a bright day awakes the world of flies	Q
With hearty malice but with feeble wing	R
To show they live they flutter and they sting	R
But as by depredations wasps proclaim	S
The fairest fruit so these the fairest fame	S
Shall we not censure all the motley train	H
Whether with ale irriguous or champaign	H
Whether they tread the vale of prose or climb	T
And whet their appetites on cliffs of rhyme	T
The college sloven or embroider'd spark	U
The purple prelate or the parish clerk	V
The quiet quidnunc or demanding prig	W
The plaintiff tory or defendant whig	W
Rich poor male female young old gay or sad	X
Whether extremely witty or quite mad	X
Profoundly dull or shallowly polite	D
Men that read well or men that only write	D
Whether peers porters tailors tune the reeds	Y
And measuring words to measuring shapes succeeds	Y
For bankrupts write when ruin'd shops are shut	Z
As maggots crawl from out a perish'd nut	Z
His hammer this and that his trowel quits	A2
And wanting sense for tradesmen serve for wits	A2
By thriving men subsists each other trade	B2
Of every broken craft a writer's made	B2
Thus his material paper takes its birth	C2
From tatter'd rags of all the stuff on earth	C2
Hail fruitful isle to thee alone belong	G
Millions of wits and brokers in old song	G
Thee well a land of liberty we name	S
Where all are free to scandal and to shame	S
Thy sons by print may set their hearts at ease	D2
And be mankind's contempt whene'er they please	D2
Like trodden filth their vile and abject sense	E2
Is unperceiv'd but when it gives offence	E2
Their heavy prose our injur'd reason tires	E2
Their verse immoral kindles loose desires	E2
Our age they puzzle and corrupt our prime	T
Our sport and pity punishment and crime	T
What glorious motives urge our authors on	F2
Thus to undo and thus to be undone	G2
One loses his estate and down he sits	E2
To show in vain he still retains his wits	E2
Another marries and his dear proves keen	H2
He writes as an hypnotic for the spleen	H2
Some write confin'd by physic some by debt	I2
Some for 'tis Sunday some because 'tis wet	I2
Through private pique some do the public right	D
And love their king and country out of spite	D
Another writes because his father writ	J2
And proves himself a bastard by his wit	J2
Has Lico learning humour thought profound	K2
Neither why write then He wants twenty pound	K2
His belly not his brains this impulse give	L2
He'll grow immortal for he cannot live	M2
He rubs his awful front and takes his ream	N2
With no provision made but of his theme	N2
Perhaps a title has his fancy smit	J2
Or a quaint motto which he thinks has wit	J2
He writes in inspiration puts his trust	O2
Tho' wrong his thoughts the gods will make them just	O2
Genius directly from the gods descends	E2
And who by labour would distrust his friends	E2
Thus having reason'd with consummate skill	P2
In immortality he dips his quill	P2
And since blank paper is denied the press	E2
He mingles the whole alphabet by guess	E2
In various sets which various words compose	E2
Of which he hopes mankind the meaning knows	E2
So sounds spontaneous from the sibyl broke	Q2
Dark to herself the wonders which she spoke	Q2
The priests found out the meaning if they could	B
And nations star'd at what none understood	B
Clodio dress'd danc'd drank visited the whole	R2
And great concern of an immortal soul	R2
Oft have I said Awake exist and strive	M2
For birth nor think to loiter is to live	M2
As oft I overheard the demon say	E2
Who daily met the loit'rer in his way	E2
I'll meet thee youth at White's the youth replies	E2
I'll meet thee there and falls his sacrifice	E2
His fortune squander'd leaves his virtue bare	S2
To ev'ry bribe and blind to ev'ry snare	S2
Clodio for bread his indolence must quit	J2
Or turn a soldier or commence a wit	J2
Such heroes have we all but life they stake	T2
How must Spain tremble and the German shake	T2
Such writers have we all but sense they print	U2
Ev'n George's praise is dated from the mint	U2
In arms contemptible in arts profane	H
Such swords such pens disgrace a monarch's reign	H
Reform your lives before you thus aspire	V2
And steal for you can steal celestial fire	K
O the just contrast O the beauteous strife	W2
'Twixt their cool writings and pindaric life	W2
They write with phlegm but then they live with fire	K
They cheat the lender and their works the buyer	K
I reverence misfortune not deride	X2
I pity poverty but laugh at pride	X2
For who so sad but must some mirth confess	E2
At gay Castruchio's miscellaneous dress	E2
Though there's but one of the dull works he wrote	Y2
There's ten editions of his old lac'd coat	Y2
These nature's commoners who want a home	Z2
Claim the wide world for their majestic dome	Z2
They make a private study of the street	A3
And looking full on every man they meet	A3
Run souse against his chaps who stands amaz'd	B3
To find they did not see but only gaz'd	B3
How must these bards be rapt into the skies	E2
you need not read you feel their ecstasies	E2
Will they persist 'Tis Madness Lintot run	G2
See them confin'd O that's already done	G2
Most as by leases by the works they print	U2
Have took for life possession of the mint	U2
If you mistake and pity these poor men	C3
est Ulubris they cry and write again	C3
Such wits their nuisance manfully expose	E2
And then pronounce just judges learning's foes	E2
O frail conclusion the reverse is true	D3
If foes to learning they'd be friends to you	D3
Treat them ye judges with an honest scorn	E3
And weed the cockle from the generous corn	E3
There's true good nature in your disrepect	U2
In justice to the good the bad neglect	U2
For immortality if hardships plead	U2
It is not theirs who write but ours who read	U2
But O what wisdom can convince a fool	F3
But that 'tis dulness to conceive him dull	G3
'Tis sad experience takes the censor's part	U2
Conviction not from reason but from smart	U2
a virgin author recent from the press	E2
The sheets yet wet applauds his great success	E2
Surveys them reads them takes their charms to bed	U2
Those in his hand and glory in his head	U2
'Tis joy too great a fever of delight	U2
His heart beats thick nor close his eyes all night	U2
But rising the next morn to clasp his fame	S
He finds that without sleeping he could dream	N2
So sparks they say take goddesses to bed	U2
And find next day the devil in their stead	U2
In vain advertisements the town o'erspread	U2
They're epitaphs and the work is dead	U2
Who press for fame but small recruits will raise	E2
'Tis volunteers alone can give the bays	E2
A famous author visits a great man	H3
Of his immortal work displays the plan	H3
And says Sir I'm your friend all fears dismiss	E2
Your glory and my own shall live by this	E2
Your power is fixt your fame thro' time convey'd	U2
And Britain Europe's queen if I am paid	U2
A statesman has his answer in a trice	E2
Sir such a genius is beyond all price	E2
What man can pay for this Away he turns	E2
His work is folded and his bosom burns	E2
His patron he will patronize no more	I3
But rushes like a tempest out of door	I3
Lost is the patriot and extinct his name	S
Out comes the piece another and the same	S
For A his magic pen evokes an O	J3
And turns the tide of Europe on the foe	J3
He rams his quill with scandal and with scoff	K3
But 'tis so very foul it wont go off	K3
Dreadful his thunders while unprinted roar	I3
But when once publish'd they are heard no more	I3
Thus distant bugbears fright but nearer draw	L3
The block's a block and turns to mirth your awe	M3
Can those oblige whose heads and hearts are such	N3
No every party's tainted by their touch	N3
Infected persons fly each public place	E2
And none or enemies alone embrace	E2
To the foul fiend their every passion's sold	U2
They love and hate extempore for gold	U2
What image of their fury can we form	O3
Dulness and rage a puddle in a storm	O3
Rest they in peace If you are pleas'd to buy	F
To swell your sails like Lapland winds they fly	F
Write they with rage The tempest quickly flags	E2
A state Ulysses tames 'em with his bags	E2
Let him be what he will Turk Pagan Jew	D3
For Christian ministers of state are few	D3
Behind the curtain lurks the fountain head	U2
That pours his politics through pipes of lead	U2
Which far and near ejaculate and spout	U2
O'er tea and coffee poison to the rout	U2
But when they have bespatter'd all they may	E2
The statesman throws his filthy squirts away	E2
With golden forceps these another takes	E2
And state elixirs of the vipers makes	E2
The richest statesman wants wherewith to pay	E2
A servile sycophant if well they weigh	E2
How much it costs the wretch to be so base	E2
Nor can the greatest powers enough disgrace	E2
Enough chastise such prostitute applause	E2
If well they weigh how much it stains their cause	E2
But are our writers ever in the wrong	G
Does virtue ne'er seduce the venal tongue	P3
Yes if well brib'd for virtue's self they fight	U2
Still in the wrong tho' champions for the right	U2
Whoe'er their crimes for interest only quit	U2
Sin on in virtue and good deeds commit	U2
Nought but inconstancy Britannia meets	E2
And broken faith in their abandon'd sheets	E2
From the same hand how various is the page	A
What civil war their brother pamphlets wage	A
Tracts battle tracts self contradictions glare	S2
Say is this lunacy I wish it were	K
If such our writers startled at the sight	U2
Felons may bless their stars they cannot write	U2
How justly Proteus' transmigrations fit	U2
The monstrous changes of a modern wit	U2
Now such a gentle stream of eloquence	E2
As seldom rises to the verge of sense	E2
Now by mad rage transform'd into a flame	S
Which yet fit engines well applied can tame	S
Now on immodest trash the swine obscene	H2
Invites the town to sup at Drury Lane	H
A dreadful lion now he roars at power	K
Which sends him to his brothers at the Tower	K
He's now a serpent and his double tongue	P3
Salutes nay licks the feet of those he stung	P3
What knot can bind him his evasion such	N3
One knot he well deserves which might do much	N3
The flood flame swine the lion and the snake	T2
Those fivefold monsters modern authors make	T2
The snake reigns most snakes Pliny says are bred	U2
When the brain's perish'd in a human head	U2
Ye grov'ling trodden whipt stript turncoat things	E2
Made up of venom volumes stains and stings	E2
Thrown from the tree of knowledge like you curst	U2
To scribble in the dust was snake the first	U2
What if the figure should in fact prove true	D3
It did in Elkenah why not in you	D3
Poor Elkenah all other changes past	U2
For bread in Smithfield dragons hist at last	U2
Spit streams of fire to make the butchers gape	Q3
And found his manners suited to his shape	Q3
Such is the fate of talents misapplied	U2
So liv'd your prototype and so he died	U2
Th' abandon'd manners of our writing train	H
May tempt mankind to think religion vain	H
But in their fate their habit and their mien	H2
That gods there are is eminently seen	H2
Heaven stands absolv'd by vengeance on their pen	C3
And marks the murderers of fame from men	C3
Through meagre jaws they draw their venal breath	R3
As ghastly as their brothers in Macbeth	R3
Their feet through faithless leather meet the dirt	U2
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt	U2
The transient vestments of these frugal men	C3
Hastens to paper for our mirth again	C3
Too soon O merry melancholy fate	U2
They beg in rhyme and warble through a grate	U2
The man lampoon'd forgets it at the sight	U2
The friend through pity gives the foe through spite	U2
And though full conscious of his injur'd purse	E2
Lintot relents nor Curll can wish them worse	E2
So fare the men who writers dare commence	E2
Without their patent probity and sense	E2
From these their politics our quidnuncs seek	S3
And Saturday's the learning of the week	S3
These labouring wits like paviours mend our ways	E2
With heavy huge repeated flat essays	E2
Ram their coarse nonsense down though ne'er so dull	G3
And hem at every thump upon your skull	G3
These staunch bred writing hounds begin the cry	F
And honest folly echoes to the lie	F
O how I laugh when I a blockhead see	E2
Thanking a villain for his probity	E2
Who stretches out a most respectful ear	I
With snares for woodcocks in his holy leer	I
It tickles thro' my soul to hear the cock's	E2
Sincere encomium on his friend the fox	E2
Sole patron of his liberties and rights	E2
While graceless Reynard listens till he bites	E2
As when the trumpet sounds th' o'erloaded state	U2
Discharges all her poor and profligate	U2
Crimes of all kinds dishonour'd weapons wield	U2
And prisons pour their filth into the field	U2
Thus nature's refuse and the dregs of men	C3
Compose the black militia of the pen	C3

Edward Young

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