Classic Poem

As painters mingle shade to set off light ,
So contraries are mix'd , when poets write:
All shadow would be darkness — Too much blaze
Would dazzle — each, by each, new force displays .
Form'd, on this principle , to night, we show,
An unbred brute , against a wrong-bred beau :
Our sprightly fop , to froth and France inclin'd,
Fills his gay vacuum , with Parisian wind .
Heavy by nature , volatile by art ,
Be-dull'd to briskness , and mis-call'd a smart .
Oppos'd to this extreme , our home-grown shoot ,
Whose sense wants breeding , thinks himself to brute :
Wise without pity — without temper plain ,
His friendship festers — and his love gives pain .
His rough sincerity , ill-dress'd, uncouth ,
Offends by coarseness , whom it charms by truth :
All virtues , if unprun'd, some folly blights;
The rugged kindness , wanting sweetness , frights:
And pert good-nature , coxcomb'd o'er, with flame ,
Provokes , like insolence , and stings, like shame .
Betwixt these two , our author had design'd
A third , fix'd, stedfast, English medium mind:
Fram'd, like his country , with just hand to way:
Th'unresting balance — byass'd neither way:
But here deficient — he submits his cause,
An humble stranger to the worth , he draws:
Had some of your accomplish'd minds supplied
His failing skill — he had not err'd , so wide,
Judge but his aim — and, if his random throw .
Falls short, condemn not the unreaching blow.
Should his imperfect scheme your spleen provoke,
Be kind , or all his balance will be broke .