Chapter II

Perhaps there may be found some _Carping Wit_,
May blame the Measures of thy _Lines_,
And cry,--Not so the _Roman_ Poet writ;
Who drest his _Satyr_ in more lofty Rhimes.
But thou for thy Instructor _Nature_ chose,
That _first_ best Principle of _Poetry_;
And to thy Subject didst thy _Verse_ dispose,
While in Harmonious Union both agree.
Had the _Great Bard_ thy _Properer Numbers_ view’d,
He wou’d have lay’d his stiff Heroicks by,
And this more _Gay_, more _Airy_ Path pursu’d,
That so much better leads to _Ralliery_.
Wit is no more than _Nature_ well exprest;
And he fatigues and toyles in vain
With _Rigid Labours_, breaks his Brain,
That has _Familiar Thought_ in lofty Numbers drest.