So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey, Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they: Some drily plain, without invention's aid, Write dull receipts how poems may be made: These leave the sense, their learning to display, And those explain the meaning quite away.
Without all these at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticise. Be Homer's works your study and delight, Read them by day, and meditate by night; Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring, And trace the Muses upward to their spring; Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse; And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.
When first young Maro in his boundless mind A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law, And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw: But when t' examine ev'ry part he came, Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold design, And rules as strict his labour'd work confine, As if the Stagirite o'erlook'd each line. Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; To copy nature is to copy them.
Some beauties yet, no precepts can declare, For there's a happiness as well as care. Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master-hand alone can reach. Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, May boldly deviate from the common track.
Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to faults true critics dare not mend; From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which, without passing through the judgment, gains The heart, and all its end at once attains.
In prospects, thus, some objects please our eyes, Which out of nature's common order rise, The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade, As kings dispense with laws themselves have made Moderns, beware! The critic else proceeds without remorse, Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force. I know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults. Some figures monstrous and misshap'd appear, Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place, Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
A prudent chief not always must display His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array, But with th' occasion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly. Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. Still green with bays each ancient altar stands, Above the reach of sacrilegious hands, Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage, Destructive war, and all-involving age.
See, from each clime the learn'd their incense bring! In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd, And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind! Whose honours with increase of ages grow, As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow! Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! Oh may some spark of your celestial fire The last, the meanest of your sons inspire, That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights; Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes To teach vain wits a science little known, T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own!
Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Whatever Nature has in worth denied, She gives in large recruits of needful pride; For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind; Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense! If once right reason drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with resistless day; Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, Make use of ev'ry friend—and ev'ry foe.
A little learning is a dang'rous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts, In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, While from the bounded level of our mind, Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind, But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise New, distant scenes of endless science rise! So pleas'd at first, the tow'ring Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; Th' eternal snows appear already past, And the first clouds and mountains seem the last; But those attain'd, we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way, Th' increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the same spirit that its author writ, Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to find, Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind; Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight, The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with wit. But in such lays as neither ebb, nor flow, Correctly cold, and regularly low, That shunning faults, one quiet tenour keep; We cannot blame indeed—but we may sleep.
In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all. Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome, The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. In ev'ry work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, T' avoid great errors, must the less commit: Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays, For not to know such trifles, is a praise.
Most critics, fond of some subservient art, Still make the whole depend upon a part: They talk of principles, but notions prize, And all to one lov'd folly sacrifice. Once on a time, La Mancha's knight, they say, A certain bard encount'ring on the way, Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as sage, As e'er could Dennis of the Grecian stage; Concluding all were desp'rate sots and fools, Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules.
Our author, happy in a judge so nice, Produc'd his play, and begg'd the knight's advice, Made him observe the subject and the plot, The manners, passions, unities, what not? All which, exact to rule, were brought about, Were but a combat in the lists left out.
Some to conceit alone their taste confine, And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line; Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit; One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art.
True wit is nature to advantage dress'd, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd, Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind.
As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit. For works may have more wit than does 'em good, As bodies perish through excess of blood. Others for language all their care express, And value books, as women men, for dress: Their praise is still—"the style is excellent": The sense, they humbly take upon content.
Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place; The face of Nature we no more survey, All glares alike, without distinction gay: But true expression, like th' unchanging sun, Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon, It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent, as more suitable; A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd: For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort, As several garbs with country, town, and court.
Some by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense; Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile. Unlucky, as Fungoso in the play, These sparks with awkward vanity display What the fine gentleman wore yesterday!
And but so mimic ancient wits at best, As apes our grandsires, in their doublets dress'd. In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old; Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Not yet the last to lay the old aside. But most by numbers judge a poet's song; And smooth or rough, with them is right or wrong: In the bright Muse though thousand charms conspire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire, Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
These equal syllables alone require, Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire, While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line, While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, With sure returns of still expected rhymes. Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze", In the next line, it "whispers through the trees": If "crystal streams with pleasing murmurs creep", The reader's threaten'd not in vain with "sleep".
Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow; And praise the easy vigour of a line, Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join. True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise, And bid alternate passions fall and rise! While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove Now burns with glory, and then melts with love; Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow: Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found, And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!
The pow'r of music all our hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now. Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such, Who still are pleas'd too little or too much. At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence, That always shows great pride, or little sense; Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best, Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move, For fools admire, but men of sense approve; As things seem large which we through mists descry, Dulness is ever apt to magnify. Some foreign writers, some our own despise; The ancients only, or the moderns prize. Thus wit, like faith, by each man is applied To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside. Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, And force that sun but on a part to shine; Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; Which from the first has shone on ages past, Enlights the present, and shall warm the last; Though each may feel increases and decays, And see now clearer and now darker days.
Regard not then if wit be old or new, But blame the false, and value still the true. Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own, But catch the spreading notion of the town; They reason and conclude by precedent, And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. Of all this servile herd, the worst is he That in proud dulness joins with quality, A constant critic at the great man's board, To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.
What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me? But let a Lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! Before his sacred name flies every fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought! The vulgar thus through imitation err; As oft the learn'd by being singular; So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng By chance go right, they purposely go wrong: So Schismatics the plain believers quit, And are but damn'd for having too much wit.
Some praise at morning what they blame at night; But always think the last opinion right. A Muse by these is like a mistress us'd, This hour she's idoliz'd, the next abus'd; While their weak heads, like towns unfortified, Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side.
Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say; And still tomorrow's wiser than today. We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow; Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so. Once school divines this zealous isle o'erspread; Who knew most Sentences, was deepest read; Faith, Gospel, all, seem'd made to be disputed, And none had sense enough to be confuted: Scotists and Thomists, now, in peace remain, Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck Lane.
If Faith itself has different dresses worn, What wonder modes in wit should take their turn? Oft, leaving what is natural and fit, The current folly proves the ready wit; And authors think their reputation safe Which lives as long as fools are pleased to laugh. Some valuing those of their own side or mind, Still make themselves the measure of mankind; Fondly we think we honour merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.
Parties in wit attend on those of state, And public faction doubles private hate. Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose, In various shapes of Parsons, Critics, Beaus; But sense surviv'd, when merry jests were past; For rising merit will buoy up at last.
Might he return, and bless once more our eyes, New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise; Nay should great Homer lift his awful head, Zoilus again would start up from the dead.
Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue, But like a shadow, proves the substance true; For envied wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own. When first that sun too powerful beams displays, It draws up vapours which obscure its rays; But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way, Reflect new glories, and augment the day. Be thou the first true merit to befriend; His praise is lost, who stays till all commend.
Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes, And 'tis but just to let 'em live betimes. No longer now that golden age appears, When patriarch wits surviv'd a thousand years: Now length of Fame our second life is lost, And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast; Our sons their fathers' failing language see, And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be.
So when the faithful pencil has design'd Some bright idea of the master's mind, Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready Nature waits upon his hand; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light; When mellowing years their full perfection give, And each bold figure just begins to live, The treacherous colours the fair art betray, And all the bright creation fades away!
Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things, Atones not for that envy which it brings. In youth alone its empty praise we boast, But soon the short-liv'd vanity is lost: Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies, That gaily blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies.
What is this wit, which must our cares employ? The owner's wife, that other men enjoy; Then most our trouble still when most admir'd, And still the more we give, the more requir'd; Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease, Sure some to vex, but never all to please; 'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun; By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone! If wit so much from ign'rance undergo, Ah let not learning too commence its foe!
For a full list of my eco tips so far click here. The money has been paid for the item already, so the loss has already occurred and is done. I had a friend who had a lot of craft supplies. Her husband said that he would pay for any crafts she wanted to buy in the future if she would just let the old craft stuff go, so they could have the extra space in their home. Hi Spendwisemom, I agree with your husband, learn from the experience and let it go.
It is a sad story about your friend tough. Circumstances tend to change and we change along with them. This is really true. This effect occurs the hardest when you realize early on but not early enough to just return the item to the store that you bought the wrong thing. However, the relief when you let go of that mistake!
I try to see these foolish buys like a splurge on cake and coffee in a fancy coffeeshop or a take-away-pizza or other things these days. Friends of us are about to move abroad this year and are now starting to shed their possessions. We went over to take a few things that are hard to come by for us a few special pieces of clothing in odd sizes and such and I was stunned by the sheer amount of things they will have to ship or get rid of over the next few months.
Obviously we have enough storage for our things as is. When I encounter items like this I think about the amount of times I did use them, divide that into the price I paid and then realise that I had already got good value for money. Especially, as you say, compared to that expensive meal or simple coffee and cake.
You are so right Colleen. I bought these sleeveless T-shirts last summer. I wore them the entire summer while not liking them at all. Over the weekend I donated them to Goodwill. Hi Deb J, the thing that gets me about clothes is, why did we think they were right for us in the first place. I usually try things on, squat, jump up and down, look at myself from every angle, sometimes go home and think about it for a while, come back buy them and then six months later wonder why I thought I felt or looked good in them.
No cash or eco guilt there. Colleen, I know what you mean. I would like being able to buy clothes at a thrift store but most of them do something to them that makes them smell like drier sheets. That smell puts me into an asthma attack. I have tried everything to get rid of the smell and nothing seems to work. I bet everyone has done this. My husband spent hundreds of dollars on custom made cowboy boots and he has never liked them.
I think he wore them once. I say let them go. He absolutely will not. They are just taking up space in the closet and not doing anyone any good there.
Maybe someone else would love them. I am getting like Sanna said. I am happy to report that we bought a new computer last weekend, after doing research and cost comparison. Our computer tech from work came to our house to set up it and the wireless thingamagig and we are all good now!
Although a few weeks ago I was in a shop and saw a wall picture that I loved and darn near bought it until hubby reminded me that we have no place to hang it and that we have a stack of art in the attic that also has no where to go. Darn him for becoming all logical and reasonable on me!
My husband is the opposite when it comes to shoes. As a result we have donated several good mens shoes to the thrift shop. I have a friend who hates to shop with me because she thinks I am so fussy.
But I like what I like and I try to make sure to be sure before purchasing. Because I am a practical person it is sometimes hard to find what I want because many items these days, especially fashion ones, are designed for looks not practicality. Then the practical ones are often not fashionable at all. I then spend months trying to find a blend of both.
I usually get what I want in the end and am very satisfied. Then I wear them to death. We have recently had a new store open here which has podiatrists on site for shoe fittings mainly sports shoes so I imagine there is something in your part of the world, or if its an ongoing problem with shoe fittings, consult with a podiatrist with what your husband needs to look for in a shoe. It has even started with children and what are made for them now. The majority of shoes lack a number of things most feet require.
So we spend years wearing shoes that ruin our feet. Like 5 inch heels. I think every person should go to a podiatrist to be told what they need in a shoe. I have very small feet and for years I wore the only thing I could find. Now I have the beginings of problems and will need surgery in the not too distant future.
Sometimes things serve a purpose and when we no longer need them for that purpose they become what we wrongly call a mistake. At home we can have different priorities. Colleen, this helpful and reassuring.
And then I replaced the worn ones with good quality comfortable shoes that went with my clothing needs.
Even in my very deliberate thought process, I have made two-pair mistakes. What seemed comfortable and versatile in the beginning has turned out to be too squished in the toes etc. Too late to return.
I will add to that, that some peoples feet are harder to fit than others so the likelihood of dissatisfaction is higher for them than others. The trial and error factor for them is bound to be higher and they just have to take their chances. Similar story to all commenters, I have bought clothes that I think why am I hanging onto them???
Now I have decided to donate before they are too sad — yellow, old-dated, musty. If they are still good then they are more likely to serve some use for someone else.
Thank goodness for thrift stores is all I can say. At least passing them on to someone else makes this easier to do. Lucinda — I agree, letting go of things not suitable for me allows someone else the opportunity to get use out of them. I agree with everyone! The more expensive clothing like dresses, shoes which I bought new is the stuff that tends to last, and that feel the best in. I am sooo fussy about shoes that I only buy a pair a year to replace old ones and they DO have to fit perfectly and look good, so I tend to wear them for years.
This year is going to be a pain shopping-wise as my fabulous Camper boots have finally bitten the dust after several zip replacements and I need new ones, and my Uggs are full of holes, and my comfortable walking shoes have had it…. But I have about and equal success rate with cheap and not-so-cheap purchases.
When it comes to shoes I am just like you. I am very fussy but wear them for years. Just about a month ago I bought a shoulder bag that I have to accept is just not suitable for me. I think it may have been designed for a man!
I will donate it to a charity shop as soon as possible. I have a problem with shoes too. Colleen, you did get a lot of wear out of your capris even if you get rid of them now. I bought one once that seemed just right, not too big, leather, simple black, well made and looked stylish.
Like yours it was just too heavy once it had other stuff in it as well. It left some time ago. Perhaps we should design and make our own. Hi Lena C, I took ages choosing my latest bag and it has turned out very well. It is small, black with a number of handy pockets and compartments.
It drove my husband nuts waiting for me to finally find the right one but that did not deter me from taking my time to find just the right one. I dare say I will have it for quite some time. Would I buy this again, right this second?
"To Err Is Human To Forgive Divine" Essays and Research Papers To Err Is Human To Forgive Divine To err is human, to forgive, divine Over this question it still needs to think about.
Adam and Eve, who disobeyed God were punished and driven out from the Garden of Eden by God To err is human, to forgive is Devine is a saying expressing the idea that forgiveness is a worthy response to human failings or weaknesses. The phrase to err is human, to forgive is .
To err is human to forgive divine. Forgiveness is the best revenge. It is very easy to take revenge but it is very difficult to forgive others. It needs a broad and great heart. Because of the material world we live in, it is common for a person to err but forgiveness is an attribute of god. “All people commit sins and make mistakes. God forgives them, and people are acting in a godlike (divine) way when they forgive.” This saying is from “An Essay on Criticism,” by Alexander Pope.
Essay on criticism thesaurus for the poem, to forgive you like to err is divine. 3/6 c1 11, to err is human, to forgive, Repeated cries about those who has the pope . To err is human, to forgive divine All people commit sins and make mistakes. God forgives them, and people are acting in a godlike (divine) way when they forgive.