BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
This facsimile of The Art of Architecture (1742)
is reproduced from a copy in the British Museum.
THE
Art of Architecture,
A
POEM.
In Imitation of HORACE'S Art of Poetry.
Humbly Inscribed to the Rt. Honble the Earl of ——
Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes,
Emollit mores, nec finit esse feros.
Ovid.
LONDON:
Printed for R. Dodsley, at Tully's Head in Pall-Mall; and
Sold by T. Cooper at the Globe in Pater-noster-Row, 1742.
[Price, One Shilling.]
THE
PREFACE.
The great Freedom with which Horace has been used, I hope will be in some Measure an Excuse for the Liberty I take in this Essay.—The Art of Cookery, and Harlequin-Horace are two glaring Instances, not to mention Numberless Translators, Commentators, &c. upon his Works; in which some have so Remark'd and Revis'd, that they have explain'd the Sense of Horace quite away.—I for my Part, either as a Poetical Architect, or an Architectural Poet, profess myself to be only an humble Imitator of him: I have seldom lost sight of the Original, at least as far as the Subject will permit.—-But Architecture is a barren Theme, and a Path so beaten, that to step out of it, though purely to avoid the Crowd, is looked upon as an unpardonable Singularity. How far I may have strayed in this Poetical Excursion, I know not; but of this, I am certain I can with Truth say with Horace,
——Si quid novisti rectius istis,
Candidus imperti; si non, his Utere Mecum.
THE
Art of Architecture,
In Imitation of HORACE'S Art of Poetry.
Should you, my Lord, a wretched Picture view;
Which some unskilful Copying-Painter drew,
Without Design, Intolerably bad,
Would you not smile, and think the Man was mad?
Just so a tasteless Structure; where each Part
Is void of Order, Symmetry, or Art:
Alike offends, when we the Mimick Place;
Compare with Beauty, Harmony, or Grace.
Painters, and Architects are not confin'd
By Pedant-Rules to circumscribe the Mind:
But give a Loose, their Genius to improve;
And 'midst the pleasing Fields of Science rove.
But then the Laws of Nature; and of Sense,
Forbid us with Contraries to dispense:
To paint a Snake, engend'ring with a Dove;
Or build a Prison 'midst a shady Grove.
At setting out, some promise mighty Things,
Temples they form, and Palaces for Kings;
With a few Ornaments profusely drest,
They shine through all the Dulness of the rest.
At some long Vista's End, the Structure stands;
The Spot a Summit, and a View commands:
The wide-extended Plain appears below,
And Streams, which through the verdant Meadows flow.
Here Towns, and Spires, and Hills o'er Hills extend;
There shady Groves, and Lawns, the Prospect end.
Through lavish Ornaments, the Fabrick shines
With wild Festoons of Fruits, and clust'ring Vines:
Luxuriant Decorations fill each Space, }
And vast Incumbrances, void of Rules or Grace;
Without Coherence, crowded in each Place.
Should you require a little rising Pile,
The Parts appropriate to the fertile Soil:
Where Neatness, Order, and Proportion join;
Where Strength, and Art, and Nature should combine:
The mimick Architect perhaps would be }
As much to seek in his Design; as HE
Whose only Talent was, to paint a Tree.
With such gay Structures, why do they begin
Such Glare of Ornament to usher in?
Why such external needless Dress and Show?
The End impropriate, and the Meaning low.
Form to each Clime, each Place, a Modus still;
But use the same Proportions at your Will.
Change, modify your Form: Transpose, divide;
The same unerring Rules the Science guide.
Most Architects in something do offend,
When led by, aim'd-at-Excellence; to mend—
By striving to be plain, they sometimes fall,
So Mean, so Dull, so Tasteless: they spoil all.
Others affect Magnificence alone;
And rise in large enormous Heaps of Stone;
Swell the huge Dome, and Turrets bid to rise,
And Towers on Towers; attract the Gazer's Eyes.
Some dare not leave the old, the beaten Way,
To search new Methods, or in Science stray:
Others with wild Varieties engage,
And build a Seat to face the Ocean's Rage;
Carve Fruit and Flowers, to face the raging Floods,
Festoons of Shells, or Fish, for shady Woods.
Thus willful Erring, join'd with Want of Skill,
Is the most certain Way of Erring still.
The meanest Workman, may attempt to place
A little Dress to decorate a Space;
May put an Ornament about a Door,
Or decorate a Window, and no more:
But then to finish, is beyond his Skill,
And we suppose the rest, exceeding ill.
And 'tis ridiculous for one good Part,
Where what remains are Scandal to the Art;
Where only one is luckily adorn'd,
And all the rest remarkably deform'd.
Let Architects attempt their Skill to show
In small Designs at first; in what they know.
Then as they find their Genius rise, to try
How much their Structures they can magnify.
Shew how Convenience, Beauty, Symmetry,
How Method, Art, and Nature will agree.
Rules well appropriate will ever please,
And proper Dress, is plac'd with greatest Ease.
First study Nature, where, and how to fill
The various Voids, and ornament with Skill.
Chuse the just Emblems for the Pile and Spot;
The Dress of Temples suit not with a Grot.
The Palace, and the Villa differ wide,
For both, a proper Ornament provide,
Perhaps in this, you must Profuseness spare;
When that; requires you to be lavish there.
If from the usual Taste your Building springs
Magnificently great, a Seat for Kings,
Let your exalted Fancy, tho' 'tis new,
Keep the great Arts of Greece and Rome in View;
From thence your Fabrick form, your Genius flow,
Thence bid the Ravish'd Gazer's Bosom glow.
Can an impartial Critick justly blame
A Fault in Jones, (or Fl-t-ft, is the same;)
And yet approve in Hawksmoor, or in J——s,
The same wild Error, or the same Extremes?
Why should the few, the Rules which I impart,
Be construed ill, be Scandal to the Art?
When Gibbs, so copious, so enrich'd has been,
No Part's obscure, but all are useful seen.
Men always had, and ever will, Pretence,
At least with Method, to improve our Sense:
And the last Laws, however just or true,
Must give the Palm to such which are more new.
One Year, a Train of Images arise,
The next a gayer, newer Form supplies.
One Scene improv'd, must to another yield,
And all resign to Fate, and quit the Field.
The fam'd St. Hellen's, and the fam'd Torbay,
Where GEORGE's Glorious Fleets, in Safety lay.
The Bank, the Meuse, the Treasury will fall,
One common Ruin overwhelming all:
Nay this great City may be lost in Flames,
And what are Villa's, may be desart Plains.
The Bleating Flocks, on ruin'd Fabricks stray,
And what were Temples, now in Ashes lay:
The Groves arise where Gilded Turrets shone,
And what are Gardens now, were Heaps of Stone.
Yet Those, and They, will in Oblivion lye,
And all, in future Times, forgot, and die.
Why then should Artists challenge future Praise,
When Time devours their Works so many Ways?
But Use has rais'd the Greek and Roman Rules,
And banish'd Gothick Practice from the Schools.
Use is the Judge, the Law, the Rule of Things,
Whence Arts arose, and whence the Science springs.
At Athens first the rising Art began;
Cecrops, the King, first modell'd out the Plan.
The studious Youth; pursued with ardent Care
The Infant Rules, unpolish'd as they were,
Till banish'd Dædalus Protection sought,
There well receiv'd, the stricter Rules he taught;
Their Arts, their Sciences, were learn'd in Schools,
And all their Precepts were confin'd to Rules.
The swelling Tree, as it unpolish'd grew
Undecorated, Native Graces shew;
From thence the Column, in its purer Dress,
The Work of Nature, must the Form confess:
The wreath'd, the fluted, or th' encumb'ring Vine,
With plenteous Branches round the Pillar twine;
Yet still its pure Simplicity you see;
The Shaft of Art, resembles still a Tree.
But how to appropriate, to embellish still
Justly, the Space to decorate and fill,
To give proportion'd Beauty to each Part,
To make the whole subservient to the Art:
The Inborn-Traces of the Mind pursue,
For Nature teaches how to find the Clue.
The silent Groves a little Pile must grace;
Nor yet too grave, or lavish for the Place.
We find the middle Path, the Way to please,
And decorate the Parts with greater Ease.
But when the Opening to some distant Scene,
Where Lawns, and liv'ning Prospects intervene;
Where Vista's or delightful Gardens charm;
Where verdant Beauties all our Senses warm:
Let Flow'rs and Fruit in seeming Wildness grow;
And there let lavish Nature seem to flow.
There let the Parts, the Gazer's Eye surprize;
And with the Glebe the Structure Harmonize.
Where Severn, Trent, or Thames's ouzy Side,
Pours the smooth Current of their easy Tide:
Each will require a Sameness to the Spot,
For this a Cell, a Cascade, or a Grott.
The Moss, or gliding Streams productive Store,
To grace the Building on the verdant Shore:
There the rough Tuscan, or the Rustick fix,
Or Pebbles, Shells, or calcin'd Matter mix.
The frozen Isicle's resembled Form,
Or Sea-green Weed, your Grotto must adorn.
Near some lone Wood, the gay Pavilion place;
Let the Corinthian Mode the Structure grace:
Carve here Festoons of lovely Flowers and Fruit:
And with the Spot, let the Enrichments suit.
On some Ascent, the plainer Fabrick view;
The Dress Ionick, and the Sculptures few.
Few are the Ornaments, but plain and neat,
The least Redundant are the most Compleat.
Gibbs may be said, most Times in Dress to please,
And few can decorate with greater Ease:
But Jones more justly knew the Eye to charm,
To please the Judgment, and the Fancy warm;
To give a Greatness to the opening Glade,
Or pleasing Softness to the solemn Shade;
To suit the Valley, or the rising Hill,
Or grace the Flow'ry Mead, or Silver Rill.
In H—k—r; V—b—'s very Soul you trace,
The same unmeaning Dress, in every Place;
The same wild Heap of inconsistent Things:
From whence the Prison, or the Palace springs;
A Tuscan Portal for a Palace Gate,
And a Corinthian Column in a Lake.
For disproportion'd Columns R—l—s see,
Where neither Art, or Rules, or Form agree;
Absurdly bad, and grown a publick Jest:
By far too HIGH—too HEAVY all the rest.
Would you the Sister-Arts improve in Schools?
In Sculpture follow Rysbrack's chosen Rules;
In Portrait seek for Amiconi's Force:
Humour in Hogarth: Wooten for a Horse:
In Landscape, Lambert; or in Crayons, see
The Charms of Colours flowing from Goupee.
In Eloquence, you see young Murray shine;
In Musick, Handel's Graces are divine.
If to adapt your Fabrick, you would choose
To suit the Builder's Genius, or his Use:
Consider well his Station, Birth, or Parts,
And make for each the Quintessence of Arts.
Here to the Muse, a proper Part assign,
To Bacchus there, direct the golden Vine;
To Venus, fix a little silent Cell,
Where all the Loves and Graces choose to dwell:
Where the young Wantons, revel, sport, and play;
And frisk and frolick tedious Time away.
The Prison's Entrance, massy Chains declare,
The loss of Freedom, to the Wretched there.
Thus every Spot assumes a various Face;
And Decoration varies with the Place.
The Tuscan or the Dorian Modus here;
Th' Ionick, or Corinthian Modus there.
The Temples, Baths, or solemn sacred Urn,
Requires Attention, and our Skill in turn.
The weeping Statue to the Hero lend;
True to his Country, Family, or Friend:
So place the Figure, that as you draw near,
You join his Grief, and drop a silent Tear.
So fine, so just, the Attitude is made,
The faithful Marble bids you mourn his Shade.
If you advent'rous, try your utmost Skill
To tread unbeaten Paths, be Lofty still;
Keep up the Strength, the Dignity, and Force
Of stated Rules; let those direct your Course.
New Methods are not easy understood;
And few will step in an untrodden Road.
'Tis better to pursue the Rule that's known,
Than trust to an Invention of your own.
But then, be sure your Choice direct you right;
Vary, but keep the Original in sight:
The Orders just proportion; strict observe,
The Variation; various Uses serve.
Perhaps the Waste, which every Pile endures,
May make the Copy, justly pass for yours.
You need not slavish Imitators be,
Exact in Copy; but your Fancy free:
This Ornament omit, or THERE express
The changing Modus, by a different Dress.
R——y, in Rustick heavy Buildings still,
Attempts in vain to please, or shew his Skill;
How far he strays from the pure Roman Stile,
And labours on in Dulness all the while!
With M—s, F—ft, G—-s, L—i, W—e,
Let Admiralty, or Custom-house compare.
You'll see the wretched Structure's sinking State,
Blam'd to Futurity, their certain Fate.
He with a Glare of Gaiety extends
The lengthen'd Pile, and still with Dulness ends:
But THOSE without your Expectation rise;
And dazzle the Beholder with Surprize.
Nothing is vain, or ill-expos'd to sight;
No Part too heavy, nor no Dress too light.
So certain are the Methods they have fix'd,
So just proportion'd, and so aptly mix'd,
That all seem Graceful, Uniform, and Neat;
Each Part is perfect, and the Whole compleat.
Criticks, attend the Rules which I impart;
They are at least; instructive to the Art:
Mark how Convenience, Strength, and Beauty join:
With these let Harmony of Parts combine.
Appropriate well the Structure to the Place;
And give each Part a Symmetry and Grace.
Make Rules your Guide, your Fancy to controul;
And make each Part subservient to the Whole.
But choice of Place must be the Builder's Care,
For various Climates, various Modes prepare.
To some a pleasing Vale; (the Poet's Song)
Where silver Streams in Eddies glide along;
A little rising Hill, with Woods o'ergrown,
And at the Foot, a verdant Carpet thrown:
Where the soft vernal Bloom beneath is spread;
Where the tall Poplar hangs its drooping Head.
Where, on the Bank, the Flowers and Oziers green,
Shade the smooth Current as it runs between;
The fertile Meads, enamell'd all around,
And the rich Glebe with yellow Harvest crown'd.
Others in long-extended Views delight,
Where gilded Objects catch the Gazer's Sight.
Where the wide Plain, or lawny Prospect lye,
In mingled Sweets, to chear the ravish'd Eye.
Where the Vale, winding round the rising Hill;
The Lilly drinks beneath; the latent Rill.
The Lawns, the silver Streams, the opening Glade,
The distant solemn Grove's collected Shade:
Charms of the verdant, or the flow'ry Plain;
The rising Mountain, or the distant Main.——
Where rugged Rocks, in wild Disorder rise;
Where unprolifick Nature, naked lies;
Where the vast craggy Summit seems to shew,
A falling Precipice to those below:
Expos'd to scorching Heats, or piercing Wind,
May more delight another's changing Mind;
Or the rude Billows of tempestuous Seas,
Another's Eye, perhaps, may chance to please:
View on the Summit of a foaming Wave,
The unhappy Sailor try's himself to save;
The floating Wreck, the Vessel's shatter'd Side,
Dash'd on the Shore, by the resistless Tide:
The foaming Surge the Shore repells again;
And beats alternate, back upon the Main:
View the abandon'd, helpless Wretch's State;
Sinking, bemoans his LAST unhappy Fate.
All these the Architect must study well;
From the proud Palace to the humble Cell.
The barren Mountain, and the rural Shade;
The mingled gay Profusion, Nature made,
To fit and tally, Art requires his Skill, }
From the moist Meadow; to the brown-brow'd Hill,
The silent shady Grove, or silver Rill.
To give a Grandeur to the Opening Lawn;
And pleasing Softness, to the solemn Dawn;
To join the vivid, with the vernal Bloom;
Where scarce a Sun Beam wanders thro' the Gloom.
This is the Art's Perfection well to know;
To charm the Sense, and bid the Bosom glow:
Teach us to imitate the Ancients well;
And where the Moderns we should still excell.
Make the Pavilion proper for the Spot,
Or the gay Temple, or the graver Grot.
Adorn your Villa with the nicest Art,
And let your Dress, be just in every Part;
Appropriate well, the Ornaments you choose;
But not alone for Gaiety; but Use.
In a warm Climate where the Tyber flows;
Where in the Soil, the obdurate Marble grows,
There on the Spot, make choice of what you will,
But HERE to use it, would be want of Skill:
And 'tis an equal Fault of those alone;
Who vainly imitate a Portland-Stone,
The dryer Climates, cherish Stucco there,
But Rains, and colder Snows, destroy it here.
Avoid, as much as in you lyes, to place,
Festoons, or looser Ornament for Grace:
Few let the Carvings be; for outside Dress:
A Boldness rather should your Thoughts express,
Redundancy, and Neatness will be lost:
And but to finish HIGH; is needless Cost.
But then, regard to Distance must be had:
If near the Eye, the Fault would be as bad.
S——d, in Spite of Reason and of Sense,
With all those Faults, and Follies will dispense;
Carv'd Fronts, and Stucco decorated still,
Without Regard to place, the Fabrick fill:
'Tis meant perhaps some Fracture to conceal,
Though frequent so; the more it does reveal:
Such are the Reasons, should our Practice sway,
And where the strongest plead, we should obey,
The most demonstrative, the safest are;
And what are not, we should avoid with Care:
As you'd fly Scylla, or Charybdis shun,
Or Tricks of Scapin, Harlequin, or Lun.
Convenience first, then Beauty is a Part,
And Strength must be Assistant to the Art.
A little Seat, a Neatness will require:
A Palace claims a more majestick Fire,
That made for Decency; for Grandeur this,
And even Profuseness, may be not amiss.
Here a long vista'd Chain of Rooms of State,
To entertain the Attendants on the Great,
The glittering Dress, to catch the Gazer's Sight,
At once to give Surprise; and to delight.
The Greeks to three, confined the stated Rules,
And only those, were known in public Schools;
Till Rome the Tuscan, and Composite join'd,
To enrich the Art, and to improve Mankind,
From these alone, all Modes, all Orders spring
To build a Cell, or Palace for a King.
First the grave Dorick Mode; for Use was form'd,
When in its Infant-State, and unadorn'd:
'Twas Entertainment for the sager Few,
And pleas'd the Times, till something started new:
Then the gay, Lydian Mode; in Order rose,
And Art to Art, they wantonly oppose:
For Men grew fickle by Prosperity,
Study'd new Arts, and Ease and Luxury.
At length the rich Corinthian's gayer Dress
The Artist's Decorations, well express.
The Goths first introduc'd the frantick Way
Of forming Apes, or Monsters, wild as they
Because the Tumult, fond of Tricks and Apes,
Lov'd such Variety, and antick Shapes.
But K——t has no Excuse, to copy these,
Unless he has; NO other Way to please.
The Modern Artists, all their Genius show
In a Venetian-Window, or a Bow.
The Cell, the Temple, Palace, Villa, all }
Must have a Window, they Venetian call,
Or Bow; to grace a Grotto, or a Hall.
A little Structure; built for Use alone,
Requires no Dress, nor Ornament of Stone:
The Plainest, Neatest, Method is the best:
One simple Modus, governs all the rest.
The Villa next with Ornament you blend;
The gay and pleasing through the whole extend;
The Temple, or the Gayer-Palace will,
In Decoration, try your utmost Skill.
Learn of Palladio, how to deck a Space;
Of Jones you'll learn Magnificence, and Grace:
Campbell will teach, the Beauty they impart;
And Gibbs, the Rules and Modus of the Art:
Keep still these Rules, and Methods, in your Sight;
Read them by Day, and meditate by Night.
But V—b—h was admir'd, in Anna's Days,
And even his Blenheim, would excite some Praise.
And H—s—r travell'd in the same dull Road,
And trod the Footsteps, which his Master trod:
But Boyle and Pembroke, have the Art restor'd;
And distant Ages will their Fame record.
See the old Goths, in K——'s Designs survive;
And Modern Fools, to imitate his strive:
Renouncing all the Rules the Romans had,
Are past reclaiming, obstinately mad.
Drunken N—c-a, with a Front direct,
Or stupid B——s, makes such an Architect;
Unhappy I!——But Fortune stept between:
And proper Physick cur'd me of the Spleen.
And now I'm satisfy'd to keep my Sense:
Make Rules my Guide, to plead in my Defence:
Give to the Roman Sciences their Due:
And write, to whet that Appetite, in you.
Tell what the Duty of a Builder is,
Point out what's Right in Practice; what's amiss.
Shew where, and how to decorate with Skill,
What Ornaments are just, and what are ill.
Shew how the Judgment, should conduct the Art,
And where Judiciousness, directs the Part;
Where proper Situation claims our Care;
Where Rules should guide; and where most useful are.
The Architect, all Ranks of Men should know,
And when, and where, to bid his Genius flow
To swell the Rules, for Majesty, and State,
To equal all the Grandeur of the Great;
To serve the Use of Senators, or Kings,
And be the Source, from whence all Science springs.
Sometimes in old Designs, you Grandeur view,
And even in Negligence, find something new.
But modern Youth are taught to sing, and dance,
And learn the Follies, and the Modes of France;
Neglecting Method, Order, Time, or Sense,
With all their Jargon, and their Modes dispense.
They make the Dorick, and Corinthian mix;
And with th' Ionian, the Composite fix.
The Grave and Gay, in one long Range extend;
And with the Solemn, the Profusive blend.
Can Structures, built by such a Builder, live?
Will A—f—y, think you; C—p—n survive?
Will O—k—y, B——s, and some whom I could name?
Whose Works already; DAMN them into Fame.
Will they, or not, all Rules, all Modes deface.
Invert all Order, and the Art disgrace?
Will B—f—w; M—d—n; Fools by Nature made
Will they encrease, or will they ruin Trade?
'Tis you, my Lord, who know your Judgment's Height,
Your Precepts, and Instructions, are of Weight;
Clear, and succinct, the lower Class to teach,
And oft, above the towring Artists Reach;
Where the gay Ornament you please to place,
And where it gives a Majesty and Grace.
These are the Rules, will live in future Days,
The Youth's Director, and the Poet's Lays,
'Tis these will shine when in Oblivion lay'd:
The Goths forgotten, and the Moderns dead.
The skillful Archer, may his Aim mistake;
And the best Hand in Musick, Jarring make:
So that, the Frailty of our Nature will,
Excuse as Accident, nor construe ill.
But if the Impertinent, their Faults are told,
And still persist; and still, their Follies hold:
Let them abandon'd, senseless, stupid be,
And, past reclaiming, still be DULL for me.
In some great Structures, Lowness is exprest;
And Sleep even sometimes, Homer lull'd to Rest;
Building, like Painting, proper Point of Sight,
Requires to view it, in its clearest Light;
And some tho' aim'd at Grandeur; or at Ease,
Even please but once, and some will EVER please.
But yet, my Lord, this one important Truth,
This Law of Science, which we teach our Youth,
Even THIS, no Mediocrity admit,
Rules, Nature, Reason, all must jointly fit:
A Painter may Raphael's Judgment want,
And yet, we some Abilities will grant:
He may, perhaps, a skillful Painter be,
Tho' not so great, yet great in some Degree.
In Building, there's no Laws of human Kind,
Admit a Medium; to the Artist's Mind,
All must be perfect, or 'tis understood,
Excessive Ill,—or else sublimely Good.
In Things where Reason, seems but to subside,
Men learn to stem, the Torrent of the Tide;
They dance, or fence, or vainly wish to fly,
But if they fail, contented cease to try.
But all in Building, universal run,
Undoing others, and themselves undone.
Oh B——le! or S—n—pe, P—m-ke; any Name,
That Arts, or Virtue; raises into Fame,
Be to my Muse a Friend; assist my Cause;
Be Friend to Science, fix'd on Nature's Laws.
On that alone, on Nature's perfect Plan,
I form my System, as I FIRST began.
By YOU inspir'd, I boldly lay the Line,
And ev'n am vain to call the Subject mine.
So Orpheus, once by more than human Sway,
Tam'd savage Beasts, or Men as wild as they;
And when Amphion, built the Theban Wall,
The Stones, by Magick Power, obey'd his Call.
So Ancient, even in Egypt's pristine State,
Recorded Architecture, has its Date.
Since thus, my Lord; what Gods and Kings inspire,
What bids my Bosom glow with arduous Fire;
This Noble Art, disdain not to protect;
If not the Art, at least the Architect.
If Art, or Nature, form'd me what I am;
If one or both, assisted in the Plan,
It is beyond, my utmost Power to say:
Whether I Art, or Nature's Laws obey.
Without each other, we in vain should strive;
To Build, or keep the Sciences alive;
Each mutually assist, and each will need,
The other's Help, as Nature has decreed.
He that intends an Architect to be,
Must seriously deliberate, like me;
Must see the Situation, Mode and Form,
Of every Structure, which they would adorn:
All Parts External, and Internal, view;
Before they aim to raise, a something new.
Ask G——s, or F—tc—t, to correct your Plan,
They'll freely, where you err, instruct the Man,
In what's amiss, with Judgment, and with Care,
Where needful add; and where profusive; spare.
But if you selfish; foolishly defend;
Your glaring Faults, and will not strive to mend,
To his own Folly——leave the Wretch alone,
And without Rival, let him Blunder on.
Those Things which seem of little Consequence,
And slight and trivial; know; you some time hence,
When you are made ridiculous; will find,
They are important, and instruct the Mind:
If in a Building Fit, a Frantic Man:
Should wildly scheme, a bad, or monstrous Plan,
Not minding where, or how, or what, to lay,
For a Foundation, or his Workmen pay:
If he should find, a Prison for his Pains,
(Misfortune justly suited to his Brains)
No one would pity, or condole his Fate,
But think he merited, the Bedlam-State.
Empedocles, with Madness sought the Flame,
And thought by that; to gain immortal Fame.
Let Architects, and Builders, mad as they,
In Folly; run, and make themselves away;
Why should it be a Sin, such Men to kill,
More than to keep alive, against their Will?
It was not Chance, but Choice, the Poet made,
To seek Divinity, in Lethe's Shade;
For if he was, from Pluto's Sable Plain,
Return'd to Earth,——He'd Ætna seek again.
'Tis hard to say, whether the Gloomy Clime,
Or Murder, Incest, or some heinous Crime,
Sends Building-Fiends, into the Madding World,
Govern'd by Frenzy; by Confusion hurl'd,
Seize all they meet; and——like the baited Bear,
Without Distinction, Range, and Rend, and Tear:
No one escapes them: from Lord O—r—d: down,
To B——s, and every errant Fool in Town:
They build, or teach; are leading, or are led;
And never cease, till they're in Jail, or dead.
FINIS.
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT