The mighty prince of poets, learned Ben,
Who alone dived into the minds of men;
Saw all their wanderings, all their follies knew,
And all their vain fantastic passions drew
In images so lively and so true,
That there each humorist himself might view.
Yet only lashed the errors of the times,
And ne'er exposed the persons, but the crimes;
And never cared for private frowns, when he
Did but chastise public iniquity:
He feared no pimp, no pick-pocket, or drab;
He feared no bravo, nor no ruffian's stab:
'Twas he alone true humours understood,
And with great wit and judgment made them good.
A humour is the bias of the mind,
By which with violence 'tis one way inclined;
It makes our actions lean on one side still,
And in all changes that way bends the will.
This————
He only knew and represented right.
Thus none, but mighty Jonson, e'er could write.
Expect not then, since that most flourishing age
Of Ben, to see true humour on the stage.
All that have since been writ, if they be scanned,
Are but faint copies from that master's hand.
Our poet now, amongst those petty things,
Alas! his too weak trifling humour brings;
As much beneath the worst in Jonson's plays,
As his great merit is above our praise.
For could he imitate that great author right,
He would with ease all poets else outwrite.
But to outgo all other men, would be,
O noble Ben! less than to follow thee.

Dryden, in the text, turns the idea of bias into ridicule; for its original application being to the leaden weight disposed in the centre of a bowl, which inclines its course in rolling, he alleges, that the only bias which can influence Shadwell is his predominant stupidity.

Note XIII.

Leave writing plays, and chuse for thy command,
Some peaceful province in Acrostic land.
There thou may'st wings display, and altars raise,
And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.—P. 440.

Among other efforts of gentle dulness, may be noticed the singular fashion which prevailed during the earlier period of the 17th century, of writing in such changes of measure, that by the different length and arrangement of the lines, the poem was made to resemble an egg, an altar, a pair of wings, a cross, or some other fanciful figure. This laborious kind of trifling was much akin to the anagrams and acrostics. Those who are curious to read, or rather to see, a specimen of such whimsies, (for they are rather addressed to the eye than the understanding,) may find a dirge of Mr George Withers, arranged into the figure of a rhomboid, in Ellis's "Specimens of the Early English Poets," Vol. III. p. 100. They are mentioned with anagrams, acrostics, rebuses, and other exercises of false wit, in the "Spectator," No. 63.

END OF THE TENTH VOLUME.

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