[356] —Versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ.
Mere sounding Trifles, Verses void of Sense.
'Tis then for the Music, only, they are follow'd. My sincere Wishes are, that Music may for ever flourish; but by no Means at the Expulsion of Poetry, whereas both Comedy and Tragedy seem, at present, to have been banish'd our Country, and yielded up the Stage to the Opera; I will farther add, if I may say so much, with humble Submission to better Judges, even Music itself, when join'd with these empty Rhythms, seems too light and childish, and, by the frequent Repetition of the same Sound, tiresome. And tho' I readily grant, that the great Masters of Italy, in former Ages, far exceeded ours; yet we have now such Artists, as, from imitating the immortal Purcell, are arriv'd to a greater Perfection than any which Italy, France, or Germany send us. For, you must know,
[357] —Huc omnes tanquam ad vivaria currunt.
Chas'd from their Woods and Bogs the Padders come, To this vast City, as their native Home. Dryden.
They live upon us; our ambitious Poverty, our Luxury, Folly, and Vices, are all subservient to their Advantage; to the utter Neglect and Contempt of our own Countrymen. Broken and unnerv'd Britains! into what a shameful Effeminacy are we sunk? Far, far be it from us, to detract, in the least, from the Merit of our Neighbours; but let us not be injurious to our own Countrymen, merely because they are such: Let the Rule hold, not only in greater Things, but even in these of less Moment, (which are yet of greater than they seem to be)
[358] Vincat amor patriæ——
His Country's Love Shall conquer.
[359] —Non possum ferre, Quirites, Græcam urbem.
To speak my Mind, I hate in Rome a Grecian Town to find. Dryden.