dgment had been
less severe; might, if we were inclined to cavil, be answer'd by a
contrary supposition, that his judgment would have been less severe,
if his imagination had been more fruitful. It is ridiculous to oppose
judgment and imagination to each other; for it does not appear, that
men have necessarily less of the one, as they have more of the other.

We must allow, in favour of lord Roscommon, what Fenton has not
mentioned so distinctly as he ought, and what is yet very much to his
honour, That he is perhaps the only correct writer in verse before
Addison; and that if there are not so many beauties in his
composition, as in those of some of his contemporaries, there are at
least fewer faults. Nor is this his highest praise; for Mr. Pope has
celebrated him as the only moral writer in Charles the IId's reign.

Unhappy Dryden--in all Charles's days,
Roscommon only boasts unspotted lays.

Mr. Dryden speaking of Roscommon's essay on translated verse, has the
following observation: 'It was that, says he, that made me uneasy,
till I tried whether or no I was capable of following his rules, and
of reducing the speculation into practice. For many a fair precept in
poetry, is like a seeming demonstration in mathematics: very specious
in the diagram, but failing in mechanic operation. I think I have
generally observed his instructions. I am sure my reason is
sufficiently convinced both of their truth and usefulness; which in
other words is to confess no less a vanity, than to pretend that I
have at least in some places made examples to his rules.'

This declaration of Dryden will be found no more than one of those
cursory civilities, which one author pays to another; and that kind of
compliment for which Dryden was remarkable. For when the sum of lord
Roscommon's precepts is collected, it will not be easy to discover how
they can qualify their reader for a better performance of translation,
than might might have been attained by his own reflexions.

They are however here laid down:

'Tis true composing is the nobler part,
But good translation is no easy art:
For tho' materials have long since been found,
Yet both your fancy and your hands are bound;
And by improving what was writ before,
Invention labours less, but judgment more.
Each poet with a different talent writes,
One praises, one instructs, another bites.
Horace did ne'er aspire to epic bays
Nor lofty Maro stoop to lyric lays.