An Essay on Criticism quotes

… greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill, But of the two less dangerous is the offense To tire our patience than mislead our sense Some few in that but numbers err in this, Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss,

A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own In poets as true genius is but rare True taste as seldom is the critic share Both must alike from Heaven derive their light, These born to judge as …

… maze of schools [26] And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools In search of wit these lose their common sense And then turn critics in their own defense Each burns alike who can or cannot write Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite

All fools have still an itching to deride And fain would be upon the laughing side

If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spite [34] There are who judge still worse than he can write.

… can or cannot write Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite All fools have still an itching to deride And fain would be upon the laughing side If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spite [34] There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for wits then poets passed Turned critics next and proved plain fools at last

Some neither can for wits nor critics pass As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

Some have at first for wits then poets passed Turned critics next and proved plain fools at last Some neither can for wits nor critics pass

As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

Those half-learned witlings, numerous in our isle, As half-formed insects on the banks of Nile Unfinished things one knows not what to call Their generation is so equivocal To tell them would a hundred tongues require, Or one vain wits that might a hundred tire.

But you who seek to give and merit fame, And justly bear a critic's noble name, Be sure yourself and your own reach to know How far your genius taste and learning go.

Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet And mark that point where sense and dullness meet.

Nature to all things fixed the limits fit And wisely curbed proud man's pretending wit. As on the land while here the ocean gains.

… One science only will one genius fit, So vast is art, so narrow human wit Not only bounded to peculiar arts, But oft in those confined to single parts Like kings, we lose the conquests gained before, By vain ambition still to make them more

Each might his several province well command, Would all but stoop to what they understand.

First follow nature and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same.

Some, to whom Heaven in wit has been profuse, [80] Want as much more, to turn it to its use;

For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.

'Tis more to guide, than spur the muse's steed, Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed, The winged courser, like a generous horse, [86] Shows most true mettle when you check his course.

Some, to whom Heaven in wit has been profuse, [80] Want as much more, to turn it to its use; For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.

'Tis more to guide, than spur the muse's steed, Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed,

The winged courser, like a generous horse, [86] Shows most true mettle when you check his course.

'Tis more to guide, than spur the muse's steed, Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed, The winged courser, like a generous horse, [86] Shows most true mettle when you check his course.

Those rules, of old discovered, not devised, Are nature still, but nature methodized;

Nature, like liberty, is but restrained By the same laws which first herself ordained.

Those rules, of old discovered, not devised, Are nature still, but nature methodized;

Nature, like liberty, is but restrained By the same laws which first herself ordained.

Hear how learned Greece her useful rules indites, When to repress and when indulge our flights. High on Parnassus' top her sons she showed, [94] And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;

Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey, Nor time nor moths e'er spoil so much as they. Some dryly 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.

You then, whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each ancient's proper character, His fable subject scope in every page, Religion, country, genius of his age Without all these at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticise.

Held from afar, aloft, the immortal prize, And urged the rest by equal steps to rise. [97] Just precepts thus from great examples given, She drew from them what they derived from Heaven.

The generous critic fanned the poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire.

Then criticism the muse's handmaid proved, To dress her charms, and make her more beloved:

The generous critic fanned the poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire. Then criticism the muse's handmaid proved, To dress her charms, and make her more beloved: But following wits from that intention strayed

Who could not win the mistress, wooed the maid

Against the poets their own arms they turned Sure to hate most the men from whom they learned So modern pothecaries taught the art By doctors 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 so much as they.

Some dryly 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.

You then, whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each ancient's proper character, His fable subject scope in every page, Religion, country, genius of his age Without all these at once before your eyes,

Cavil you may, but never criticise.

Be Homers 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.

… and Homer were he found the same Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design And rules as strict his labored work confine As if the Stagirite o'erlooked each line [138] 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 If, where the rules not far enough extend (Since rules were made but to promote their end), Some lucky license answer to the full The intent …

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.

In prospects, thus, some objects please our eyes, Which out of nature's common order rise,

The shapeless rock or hanging precipice.

But though the ancients thus their rules invade (As kings dispense with laws themselves have made), Moderns beware!

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

If, where the rules not far enough extend (Since rules were made but to promote their end), Some lucky license answer to the full The intent proposed that license is a rule.

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, swelled with wind:

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, swelled with wind:

Pride where wit fails steps in to our defense, 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 every friend—and every foe.

Pride where wit fails steps in to our defense, 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 every friend—and every foe.

A little learning is a dangerous thing Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring [216] There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.

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 every friend—and every foe.

A little learning is a dangerous thing

Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring [216] There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.

But those attained we tremble to survey The growing labors of the lengthened way The increasing prospect tires our wandering 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 generous pleasure to …

… find Where nature moves and rapture warms the mind, Nor lose for that malignant dull delight The generous pleasure to be charmed with wit But in such lays as neither ebb nor flow, Correctly cold and regularly low That, shunning faults, one quiet tenor keep;

We cannot blame indeed—but we may sleep.

In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts Is not the exactness of peculiar parts, 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.

No monstrous height or breadth, or length, appear; The whole at once is bold, and regular.

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see. Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.

In every 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.

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, To avoid great errors, must the less commit: Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,

For not to know some 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 loved folly sacrifice.

One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit. Poets, like painters, thus, unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover every part, And hide with ornaments their want of art.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed;

Something, whose truth convinced at sight we find That gives us back the image of our mind.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed; Something, whose truth convinced 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 them good, As bodies perish through excess of blood.

Unlucky, as Fungoso in the play, [328] 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 dressed.

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, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside

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 [308]

Words are like leaves, and where they most abound Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.

False eloquence, like the prismatic glass. [311] Its gaudy colors spreads on every place, The face of nature we no more survey. All glares alike without distinction gay: But true expression, like the unchanging sun, Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;

False eloquence, like the prismatic glass. [311] Its gaudy colors spreads on every place, The face of nature we no more survey. All glares alike without distinction gay:

But true expression, like the 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 expressed, Is like a clown in regal purple dressed For different styles with different subjects sort, As several garbs with country town and court Some …

Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know What's roundly smooth or languishingly slow; And praise the easy vigor of a line, Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join. [361]

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

And praise the easy vigor of a line, Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join. [361] True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, [366] 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 …

Avoid extremes, and shun the fault of such, Who still are pleased too little or too much. At every trifle scorn to take offense, 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 mist descry, Dullness is ever apt to magnify. [393]

At every trifle scorn to take offense, 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 mist descry, Dullness is ever apt to magnify. [393]

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 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 damned 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.

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 writing, but the men.

Of all this servile herd the worst is he That in proud dullness joins with quality A constant critic at the great man's board, To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord What woful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonnetteer, or …

As oft the learned 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 damned 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 used, This hour she's idolized, the next abused; 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;

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 to-morrow's wiser than to-day.

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, [441] Faith, Gospel, all, seemed made to be disputed, And none had sense enough to be confuted: Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain, [444] Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck Lane.

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, beaux; [459] But sense survived, 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 Millbourns must arise:

For rising merit will buoy up at last. Might he return, and bless once more our eyes, New Blackmores and new Millbourns must arise: [463] Nay, should great Homer lift his awful head, Zoilus again would start up from the dead [465]

Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue, But like a shadow, proves the substance true:

For envied wit, like Sol eclipsed, makes known The opposing body's grossness, not its own.

Some valuing those of their own side or mind, Still make themselves the measure of mankind:

Fondly we think we honor 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, beaux; [459] But sense survived, when merry jests were past; For rising merit will buoy up at last.

When first that sun too powerful beams displays, It draws up vapors which obscure its rays, But even 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!

Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, Nor in the critic let the man be lost

Good-nature and good sense must ever join; To err is human, to forgive, divine.

But if in noble minds some dregs remain, Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain; Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.

Encouraged thus, wit's Titans braved the skies, [552] And the press groaned with licensed blasphemies. These monsters, critics! with your darts engage, Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage! Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice, Will needs mistake an author into vice;

All seems infected that the infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.

Learn, then, what morals critics ought to show, For 'tis but half a judge's task to know. 'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join; In all you speak, let truth and candor shine:

'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join; In all you speak, let truth and candor shine: That not alone what to your sense is due All may allow, but seek your friendship too.

Be silent always, when you doubt your sense; And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence:

Some positive persisting fops we know, Who, if once wrong will needs be always so; But you, with pleasure, own your errors past, And make each day a critique on the last.

Be silent always, when you doubt your sense; And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence: Some positive persisting fops we know, Who, if once wrong will needs be always so;

But you, with pleasure, own your errors past, And make each day a critique on the last.

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do; Men must be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown proposed as things forgot. Without good breeding truth is disapproved; That only makes superior sense beloved.

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do; Men must be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown proposed as things forgot.

Without good breeding truth is disapproved; That only makes superior sense beloved.

Be niggards of advice on no pretense;

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true;

Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do;

Men must be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown proposed as things forgot. Without good breeding truth is disapproved; That only makes superior sense beloved.

'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do;

Men must be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown proposed as things forgot.

Without good breeding truth is disapproved; That only makes superior sense beloved.

Be niggards of advice on no pretense; For the worst avarice is that of sense With mean complacence, ne'er betray your trust, Nor be so civil as to prove unjust

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise, Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.

'Twere well might critics still this freedom take, But Appius reddens at each word you speak, [585] And stares, tremendous with a threatening eye, Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry Fear most to tax an honorable fool Whose right it is uncensured to be …

No place so sacred from such fops is barred, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Churchyard: [623] Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead,

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread

Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks, It still looks home, and short excursions makes; But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks, And, never shocked, and never turned aside. Bursts out, resistless, with a thundering tide,

No place so sacred from such fops is barred, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Churchyard: [623] Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead, For fools rush in where angels fear to tread

Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks, It still looks home, and short excursions makes;

But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks, And, never shocked, and never turned aside. Bursts out, resistless, with a thundering tide,

He steered securely, and discovered far, Led by the light of the Maeonian star. [648] Poets, a race long unconfined and free, Still fond and proud of savage liberty, Received his laws, and stood convinced 'twas fit, Who conquered nature, should preside o'er wit. [652]

Horace still charms with graceful negligence, And without method talks us into sense;

Will like a friend familiarly convey The truest notions in the easiest way. He who supreme in judgment as in wit, Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ, Yet judged with coolness though he sung with fire;

He who supreme in judgment as in wit, Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ, Yet judged with coolness though he sung with fire; His precepts teach but what his works inspire Our critics take a contrary extreme

They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm:

Nor suffers Horace more in wrong translations By wits than critics in as wrong quotations.

And arts still followed where her eagles flew, From the same foes at last, both felt their doom, And the same age saw learning fall, and Rome. [686] With tyranny then superstition joined As that the body, this enslaved the mind;

Much was believed but little understood, And to be dull was construed to be good;

A second deluge learning thus o'errun, And the monks finished what the Goths begun. [692]

But see! each muse, in Leo's golden days, [697] Starts from her trance and trims her withered bays, Rome's ancient genius o'er its ruins spread Shakes off the dust, and rears his reverent head Then sculpture and her sister arts revive,

Stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live;

With sweeter notes each rising temple rung, A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung [704] Immortal Vida! on whose honored brow The poets bays and critic's ivy grow Cremona now shall ever boast thy name As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!

… pruned her tender wing, (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise, But in low numbers short excursions tries, Content if hence the unlearned their wants may view, The learned reflect on what before they knew Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame,

Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter, or offend,

Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.