IN IMITATION OF HORACE'S ART OF POETRY .

Should some strange poet in his piece affect
Pope's nervous style, with Cibber's jokes bedeck'd,
Prink Milton's true sublime with Cowley's wit,
And garnish Blackmore's Job with Swift's conceit,
Would you not laugh? Trust me, that priest's as bad,
Who in a style now grave, now raving mad,
Gives the wild whims of dreaming schoolmen vent,
Whilst drowsy congregations nod assent.
Painters and priests, 'tis true, great licence claim,
And by bold strokes have often rose to fame:
But whales in woods, or elephants in air,
Serve only to make fools and children stare;
And in religion's name, if priests dispense
Flat contradictions to all common sense,
Though gaping bigots wonder and believe,
The wise 'tis not so easy to deceive.
Some take a text sublime, and fraught with sense,
But quickly fall into impertinence.
On trifles eloquent, with great delight
They flourish out on some strange mystic rite;
Clear up the darkness of some useless text,
Or make some crabbed passage more perplex'd:
But to subdue the passions, or direct,
And all life's moral duties they neglect.
Most preachers err, (except the wiser few)
Thinking establish'd doctrines therefore true;
Others, too fond of novelties and schemes,
Amuse the world with airy idle dreams;
Thus too much faith, or too presuming wit,
Are rocks where bigots, or freethinkers split.
The very meanest dabbler at Whitehall
Can rail at Papists, or poor Quakers maul;
But when of some great truth he aims to preach,
Alas! he finds it far beyond his reach.
Young deacons try your strength, and strive to find,
A subject suited to your turn of mind;
Method and words are easily your own,
Or, should they fail you — steal from Tillotson.
Much of its beauty, usefulness and force,
Depends on rightly timing a discourse.
Before the L — ds or C-mm-ns — far from nice,
Say boldly — Brib'ry is a dirty vice —
But quickly check yourself — and with a sneer —
Of which this honourable house is clear.
Great is the work, and worthy of the gown,
To bring forth hidden truths, and make them known.
Yet in all new opinions have a care,
Truth is too strong for some weak minds to bear:
And are new doctrines taught, or old reviv'd?
Let them from scripture' plainly be deriv'd.
Barclay or Baxter, wherefore do we blame
For innovations, yet approve the same
In Wickliffe and in Luther? Why are these
Called wife reformers, those mad sectaries?
'Tis most unjust: men always had a right,
And ever will, to think, to speak, to write,
Their various minds; yet sacred ought to be
The public peace, as private liberty.
Opinions are like leaves, which every year
Now flourish green, now fall and disappear.
Once the Pope's bulls could terrify his foes,
And kneeling princes kiss'd his sacred toes,
Now he may damn, or curse, or what he will,
There's not a prince in Christendom will kneel.
Reason now reigns, and by her aid we hope
Truth may revive, and sickening error droop:
She the sole judge, the rule, the gracious light,
Kind heaven has lent to guide our minds aright.
States to embroil, and faction to display,
In wild harangues, Sacheverel show'd the way.
The fun'ral sermon, when it first began,
Was us'd to weep the loss of some good man;
Now any wretch, for one small piece of gold,
Shall have fine praises from the pulpit sold:
But whence this custom rose, who can decide?
From priestly av'rice, or from human pride
Truth, moral virtue, piety, and peace,
Are noble subjects, and the pulpit grace:
But zeal for trifles arm'd imperious Laud,
His power and cruelty the nation aw'd.
Why was he honour'd with the name of priest,
And greatest made, unworthy to be least?
Whose zeal was fury, whose devotion pride,
Power his great God, and int'rest his sold guide.
To touch the passions, let your style be plain;
The praise of virtue asks a higher strain:
Yet sometimes the pathetic may receive
The utmost force that eloquence can give;
As sometimes, in eulogiums, 'tis the art,
With plain simplicity to win the heart.
'Tis not enough that what you say is true,
To make us feel it, you must feel it too:
Show yourself warm'd, and that will warmth impart
To every hearer's sympathising heart.
Does generous Foster virtue's laws enforce?
All give attention to the warm discourse:
But who a cold, dull, lifeless drawling keeps,
One half his audience laughs, the other sleeps.
In censuring vice, be earnest and severe,
In stating dubious points concise and clear;
Anger requires stern looks and threatening style;
But paint the charms of virtue with a smile.
These different changes common sense will teach,
And we expect them from you if you preach;
For should your manner differ from your theme,
Or in quite different subjects be the same,
Despis'd and laugh'd at you may travel down,
And hide such talents in some country town.
It much concerns a preacher first to learn
The genius of his audience, and their turn.
Among the citizens be grave and flow;
Before the nobles let fine periods flow;
The Temple church asks Sherlock's sense and skill;
Beyond the Tower — no matter — what you will.
In facts or notions drawn from sacred writ,
Be orthodox, nor cavil to show wit:
Let Adam lose a rib to gain a wife;
Let Noah's ark contain all things with life;
Let Moses work strange wonders with his rod,
And let the sun stand still at Joshua's nod.
Let Solomon be wife, and Samson strong,
Give Saul a witch, and Balaam's ass a tongue.
But if your daring genius is so bold
To teach new doctrines, or to censure old,
With care proceed; you tread a dangerous path;
Error establish'd, grows establish'd faith.
'Tis easier much, and much the safer rule,
To teach in pulpit what you learn'd at school:
With zeal defend whate'er the church believes,
If you expect to thrive, or wear lawn sleeves.
Some loudly bluster, and consign to hell
All who dare doubt one word or syllable
Of what they call the faith; and which extends
To whims and trifles without use or ends:
Sure 'tis much nobler, and more like divine,
T' enlarge the path to heaven, than to confine:
Insist alone on useful points or plain;
And know, God cannot hate a virtuous man.
If you expect or hope that we should stay
Your whole discourse, nor strive to slink away.
Some common faults there are you must avoid,
To every age and circumstance ally'd.
A pert young student just from college brought,
With many little pedantries is fraught:
Reasons with syllogisin, persuades with wit,
Quotes scraps of Greek instead of sacred writ;
Or, deep immers'd in politic debate,
Reforms the church, and guides the tottering state.
These trifles with maturer age forgot,
Now some good benefice employs his thought;
He seeks a patron, and will soon incline
To all his notions, civil or divine;
Studies his principles both night and day,
And, as that Scripture guides, must preach and pray.
Av'rice and age creep on: his reverend mind
Begins to grow right reverendly inclin'd.
Power and preferment still to sweetly call,
The voice of heaven is never heard at all:
Set but a tempting bishopric in view,
He's strictly orthodox, and loyal too;
With equal zeal defends the church and state;
And infidels and rebels share his hate.
Some things are plain, we can't misunderstand,
Some still obscure, though thousands have explain'd:
Those influence more which reason can conceive,
Than such as we through faith alone believe:
In those we judge, in these we may deceive:
But what too deep in mystery is thrown,
The wisest preachers choose to let alone.
How Adam's fault affects all human kind;
How Three is One, and One is Three combin'd;
How certain prescience checks not future will;
And why Almighty goodness suffers ill:
Such points as these lie far too deep for man,
Were never well explain'd, nor ever can.