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Of TASTE, AN EPISTLE To the Right Honourable RICHARD Earl of BURLINGTON, By Mr. POPE.
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AN EPISTLE TO THE Right Honourable RICHARD Earl of BURLINGTON.
Occaſion'd by his Publiſhing PALLADIO's Deſigns of the BATHS, ARCHES, THEATRES, &c. of Ancient ROME.
By Mr. POPE.
LONDON: Printed for L. GILLIVER at Homer's Head in Fleet⯑ſtreet, MDCCXXXI. Price 1 s.
AN EPISTLE To the Right Honourable RICHARD Earl of BURLINGTON.
[5]'TIS ſtrange, the Miſer ſhould his Cares imploy
To gain thoſe Riches he can ne'er enjoy:
Is it leſs ſtrange, the Prodigal ſhould waſte
His Wealth to purchaſe what he ne'er can taſte?
Not for himſelf he ſees, or hears, or eats;
Artiſts muſt chuſe his Pictures, Muſic, Meats:
He buys for Topham Drawings and Deſigns,
For Fountain Statues, and for Curio Coins,
Rare Monkiſh Manuſcripts for Hearne alone,
And Books for Mead, and Rarities for Sloan.
[6] Think we all theſe are for himſelf? no more
Than his fine Wife (my Lord) or finer Whore.
For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to ſhew how many Taſtes he wanted.
What brought Sir Shylock's ill-got Wealth to waſte?
Some Daemon whiſper'd, "Knights ſhou'd have a Taſte."
Heav'n viſits with a Taſte the wealthy Fool,
And needs no Rod, but S [...]d with a Rule.
See ſportive Fate, to puniſh aukward Pride,
Bids Babo build, and ſends him ſuch a Guide:
A ſtanding Sermon! at each Year's expence,
That never Coxcomb reach'd Magnificence.
Oft have have you hinted to your Brother Peer,
A certain Truth, which many buy too dear:
Something there is, more needful than Expence,
And ſomething previous ev'n to Taſte—'Tis Senſe;
Good Senſe, which only is the Gift of Heav'n,
And tho' no Science, fairly worth the Seven.
A Light, which in yourſelf you muſt perceive;
[7]
To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the Column, or the Arch to bend,
To ſwell the Terras, or to ſink the Grot;
In all, let Nature never be forgot.
Conſult the Genius of the Place in all,
That tells the Waters or to riſe, or fall,
Or helps th' ambitious Hill the Heav'ns to ſcale,
Or ſcoops in circling Theatres the Vale,
Calls in the Country, catches opening Glades,
Joins willing Woods, and varies Shades from Shades,
Now breaks, or now directs, th' intending Lines;
Paints as you plant, and as you work, Deſigns.
Begin with Senſe, of ev'ry Art the Soul,
Parts anſw'ring Parts, ſhall ſlide into a Whole,
Spontaneous Beauties all around advance,
Start, ev'n from Difficulty, ſtrike, from Chance;
Nature ſhall join you; Time ſhall make it grow
A Work to wonder at—perhaps a *STOW.
Without it, proud Verſailles! thy Glory falls,
And Nero's Terraſſes deſert their Walls:
[8] The vaſt Parterres a thouſand hands ſhall make,
Lo! Bridgman comes, and floats them with a Lake:
Or cut wide Views thro' Mountains to the Plain,
You'll wiſh your Hill, and ſhelter'd Seat, again.
Behold Villario's ten-years Toil compleat,
His Quincunx darkens, his Eſpaliers meet,
The Wood ſupports the Plain; the Parts unite,
And ſtrength of Shade contends with ſtrength of Light;
His bloomy Beds a waving Glow diſplay,
Bluſhing in bright Diverſities of Day,
With ſilver-quiv'ring Rills maeander'd o'er—
—Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more,
Tir'd of the Scene Parterres and Fountains yield,
He finds at laſt he better likes a Field.
Thro' his young Woods how pleas'd Sabinus ſtray'd,
Or ſate delighted in the thick'ning Shade,
With annual Joy the red'ning Shoots to greet,
And ſee the ſtretching Branches long to meet!
His Son's fine Taſte an op'ner Viſta loves,
Foe to the Dryads of his Father's Groves,
[9] One boundleſs Green or flouriſh'd Carpet views,
With all the mournful Family of Yews;
The thriving Plants ignoble Broomſticks made
Now ſweep thoſe Allies they were born to ſhade.
Yet hence the Poor are cloth'd, the Hungry fed;
Health to himſelf, and to his Infants Bread
The Lab'rer bears; What thy hard Heart denies,
Thy charitable Vanity ſupplies.
Another Age ſhall ſee the golden Ear
Imbrown thy Slope, and nod on thy Parterre,
Deep Harveſts bury all thy Pride has plann'd,
And laughing Ceres re-aſſume the Land.
At Timon's Villa let us paſs a Day,
Where all cry out, "What Sums are thrown away!
So proud, ſo grand, of that ſtupendous Air,
Soft and Agreeable come never there.
Greatneſs, with Timon, dwells in ſuch a Draught
As brings all Brobdignag before your Thought:
To compaſs this, his Building is a Town,
His Pond an Ocean, his Parterre a Down;
[10] Who but muſt laugh the Maſter when he ſees?
A puny Inſect, ſhiv'ring at a Breeze!
Lo! what huge Heaps of Littleneſs around!
The Whole, a labour'd Quarry above ground!
Two Cupids ſquirt before: A Lake behind
Improves the keenneſs of the Northern Wind.
His Gardens next your Admiration call,
On ev'ry ſide you look, behold the Wall!
No pleaſing Intricacies intervene,
No artful Wildeneſs to perplex the Scene:
Grove nods at Grove, each Ally has a Brother,
And half the Platform juſt reflects the other.
The ſuff'ring Eye inverted Nature ſees,
Trees cut to Statues, Statues thick as Trees,
With here a Fountain, never to be play'd,
And there a Summer-houſe, that knows no Shade.
Here Amphitrite ſails thro' Myrtle bow'rs;
Then † Gladiators fight, or die, in flow'rs;
Un-water'd ſee the drooping Sea-horſe mourn,
And Swallows rooſt in Nilus' duſty Urn.
[11]
Behold! my Lord advances o'er the Green,
Smit with the mighty pleaſure, to be ſeen:
But ſoft—by regular approach—not yet—
Firſt thro' the length of yon hot Terras ſweat,
And when up ten ſteep Slopes you've dragg'd your thighs,
Juſt at his Study-door he'll bleſs your Eyes.
His Study? with what Authors is it ſtor'd?
In Books, not Authors, curious is my Lord;
To all their dated Backs he turns you round,
Theſe Aldus printed, thoſe Du Suëil has bound.
Lo ſome are Vellom, and the reſt as good
For all his Lordſhip knows, but they are Wood.
For Lock or Milton 'tis in vain to look,
Theſe Shelves admit not any Modern book.
And now the Chappel's ſilver bell you hear,
That ſummons you to all the Pride of Pray'r:
Light Quirks of Muſick, broken and uneven,
Make the Soul dance upon a Jig to Heaven.
On painted Cielings you devoutly ſtare,
Where ſprawl the Saints of Verrio, or Laguerre,
[12] On gilded Clouds in fair expanſion lie,
And bring all Paradiſe before your Eye.
To Reſt, the Cuſhion, and ſoft Dean invite,
Who never mentions Hell to Ears polite.
But hark! the chiming Clocks to Dinner call;
A hundred Footſteps ſcrape the marble Hall:
The rich Buffet well-colour'd Serpents grace,
And gaping Tritons ſpew to waſh your Face.
Is this a Dinner? this a Genial Room?
No, 'tis a Temple, and a Hecatomb;
A ſolemn Sacrifice, perform'd in State,
You drink by Meaſure, and to Minutes eat.
So quick retires each flying Courſe, you'd ſwear
Sancho's dread Doctor and his Wand were there:
Between each Act the trembling Salvers ring,
From Soup to Sweetwine, and God bleſs the King.
In Plenty ſtarving, tantaliz'd in State,
And complaiſantly help'd to all I hate,
Treated, careſs'd, and tir'd, I take my leave,
Sick of his civil Pride, from Morn to Eve;
[13] I curſe ſuch laviſh Coſt, and little Skill,
And ſwear, no Day was ever paſt ſo ill.
In you, my Lord, Taſte ſanctifies Expence,
For Splendor borrows all her Rays from Senſe.
You ſhow us, Rome was glorious, not profuſe,
And pompous Buildings once were things of uſe.
Juſt as they are, yet ſhall your noble Rules
Fill half the Land with Imitating Fools,
Who random Drawings from your Sheets ſhall take,
And of one Beauty many Blunders make;
Load ſome vain Church with old Theatric State;
Turn Arcs of Triumph to a Garden-gate;
Reverſe your Ornaments, and hang them all
On ſome patch'd Doghole ek'd with Ends of Wall,
Then clap four ſlices of Pilaſter on't,
And lac'd with bits of Ruſtic, 'tis a Front:
Shall call the Winds thro' long Arcades to roar,
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
Conſcious they act a true Palladian part,
And if they ſtarve, they ſtarve by Rules of Art.
[14]
Yet thou proceed; be fallen Arts thy care,
Erect new Wonders, and the Old repair,
Jones and Palladio to themſelves reſtore,
And be whate'er Vitruvius was before:
Till Kings call forth th' Idea's of thy Mind,
Proud to accompliſh what ſuch hands deſign'd,
Bid Harbors open, publick Ways extend,
And Temples, worthier of the God, aſcend;
Bid the broad Arch the dang'rous Flood contain,
The Mole projected break the roaring Main;
Back to his bounds their ſubject Sea command,
And roll obedient Rivers thro' the Land:
Theſe Honours, Peace to happy Britain brings,
Theſe are Imperial Works, and worthy Kings.
FINIS.
Appendix A BOOKS printed for LAWTON GILLIVER at Homer's Head over againſt St. Dunſtan's Church, Fleetſtreet.
[]- THE DUNCIAD VARIORUM, a ſmall Number in Quarto, Price Six Shillings and Six Pence.
- —In Octavo, with ſeveral Additional Notes and Epigrams.
- —In Duodecimo, of the firſt Edition without Notes, fit to be bound up with the Homer's and Miſcellanies, in 12o.
- A Collection of Pieces in Verſe and Proſe, occaſioned by the DUN⯑CIAD, Dedicated to the Earl of Middleſex, by R. Savage, Eſq
- The Art of Politicks, in Imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry.
- [...] The Art of Modern Poetry.
- Imperium Pelagi: A Naval Lyrick, written in Imitation of Pindar's Spirit. Occaſion'd by his Majeſty's Return, September 1729, and the ſucceeding Peace.
- Gay's Poems on ſeveral Occaſions, 2 Vol. 12o.
- Addiſon's Works in 4 Volumes in Quarto, the ſecond Edition beau⯑tifully printed.
- Milton's Paradiſe Loſt and Regain'd in 8o and 12o.
Where may be had the Spectators, Tatlers, Guardians, Freeholders, Lover and Reader: Books in Law, and other Sciences: With great Variety of Single Plays.
[14] [...]
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Notes
*
Inigo Jones.
†
The famous Artiſt who deſign'd the beſt Gardens in France; and plann'd Greenwich and St. James's Parks, &c.
*
The Seat and Gardens of the Lord Viſcount Cobham in Buckinghamſhire.
†
The two famous Statues of the Gladiator pugnans, & Gladiator moriens.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3689 An epistle to the Right Honourable Richard Earl of Burlington Occasion d by his publishing Palladio s designs of the baths arches theatres c of ancient Rome By Mr Pope. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-606D-E