爱德华年轻

在这里你会发现长诗向右,多顿顿先生诗人爱德华·杨

向右,多顿顿先生

长久以来,多丁顿,我一直在寻求减轻我优雅思想的负担:现在你看到了诗人的感激之情:给他两种恩惠,他会要求三种:是为了现在的荣耀,还是为了将来的荣耀?你给的保护,我一个毫无价值的菌株。你爱并感受诗人的圣火,知道坚实名声的基础;你读书时,带着朋友的恶意;不要只纵容我那样的企图,而更要把你自己的隐藏起来,以提高我的诗作。不合时宜的谦虚!什么时候更想要英国的光明榜样?她的学识和天才也在衰退;黑暗和寒冷是她衰落的日子;仿佛现在的人是另一种人,他们卑贱地靠过去岁月的施舍过活,人还是人; and they who boldly dare, Shall triumph o'er the sons of cold despair; Or, if they fail, they justly still take place Of such who run in debt for their disgrace; Who borrow much, then fairly make it known, And damn it with improvements of their own. We bring some new materials, and what's old New cast with care, and in no borrow'd mould; Late times the verse may read, if these refuse; And from sour critics vindicate the Muse. 'Your work is long', the critics cry. 'Tis true, And lengthens still, to take in fools like you: Shorten my labour, if its length you blame: For, grow but wise, you rob me of my game; As haunted hags, who, while the dogs pursue, Renounce their four legs, and start up on two. Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile, Will I enjoy (dread feast!) the critic's rage, And with the fell destroyer feed my page. For what ambitious fools are more to blame, Than those who thunder in the critic's name? Good authors damn'd, have their revenge in this, To see what wretches gain the praise they miss. Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak, Like an old Druid from his hollow oak, As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries, 'Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!' Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach, Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach. One judges as the weather dictates; right The poem is at noon, and wrong at night: Another judges by a surer gage, An author's principles, or parentage; Since his great ancestors in Flanders fell, The poem doubtless must be written well. Another judges by the writer's look; Another judges, for he bought the book: Some judge, their knack of judging wrong to keep; Some judge, because it is too soon to sleep. Thus all will judge, and with one single aim, To gain themselves, not give the writer, fame. The very best ambitiously advise, Half to serve you, and half to pass for wise. Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait, Proclaim the glory, and augment the state; Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the scribbling fry Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die. Rail on, my friends! what more my verse can crown Than Compton's smile, and your obliging frown? Not all on books their criticism waste: The genius of a dish some justly taste, And eat their way to fame; with anxious thought The salmon is refus'd, the turbot bought. Impatient art rebukes the sun's delay And bids December yield the fruits of May; Their various cares in one great point combine The business of their lives, that is--to dine. Half of their precious day they give the feast; And to a kind digestion spare the rest. Apicius, here, the taster of the town, Feeds twice a week, to settle their renown. These worthies of the palate guard with care The sacred annals of their bills of fare; In those choice books their panegyrics read, And scorn the creatures that for hunger feed. If man by feeding well commences great, Much more the worm to whom that man is meat. To glory some advance a lying claim, Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame: Their front supplies what their ambition lacks; They know a thousand lords, behind their backs. Cottil is apt to wink upon a peer, When turn'd away, with a familiar leer; And Harvey's eyes, unmercifully keen, Have murdered fops, by whom she ne'er was seen. Niger adopts stray libels; wisely prone, To cover shame still greater than his own. Bathyllus, in the winter of threescore, Belies his innocence, and keeps a ----. Absence of mind Brabantio turns to fame, Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name; Has words and thoughts in nice disorder set, And takes a memorandum to forget. Thus vain, not knowing what adorns or blots Men forge the patents that create them sots. As love of pleasure into pain betrays, So most grow infamous through love of praise. But whence for praise can such an ardour rise, When those, who b