g'd will _mortal_ prove,
At least they from _Perfection_ far remove.
Nor _Critical Exactness_ here deride,
It looks like _Sloth_ or _Ignorance_, or _Pride_;
_Good Sense_ is spoild in _Words unapt_ exprest,
And _Beauty_ pleases more when 'tis _well drest_.
[Sidenote: _Method_.]
Forget not METHOD if the _Prize_ you'd gain, 350
'Twill cost you _Thought_, but richly pays the _Pain_;
What _first_, what _second_, or what _last_ to place,
What here will _shine_, and there the _Work_ disgrace.
Before you build, your MODEL justly lay,
And ev'ry Part in _Miniature_ survey;
Where airy _Terraces_ shall threat the _Skies_,
Where _Columns_ tow'r, or neat _Pilasters_ rise;
Where cool _Cascades_ come _roaring_ down the Hill,
Or where the _Crystal Nymph_ a _mossie Bason_ fill:
What _Statues_ are to grace the _Front_ design'd, 360
And how to throw the _meaner Rooms_ behind.
Draw the _Main Strokes_ at first, 'twill shew your _Skill_,
_Life-Touches_ you may add whene'er you will.
Ev'n _Chance_ will sometimes all our _Art_ excel,
The _angry Foam_ we ne'er can _hit_ so well.
A _sudden Thought_, all beautiful and bright,
Shoots in and _stunns_ us with _amazing Light_;
Secure the _happy Moment_ e'er 'tis past,
Not _Time_ more _swift_, or _Lightning_ flies so fast.
All must be _free_ and _easie_, or in vain 370
You _whip_ and _spur_, and the _wing'd Courser_ strain:
When _foggy Clouds_ hang _bellying_ in the _Skies_,
Or _fleety Boreas_ through th' _Horizon_ flies;
He then, whose _Muse_ produces ought that's _fine_,
His _Head_ must have a _stronger Turn_ than mine:
Like _Sybils Leaves_ the _Train of Thoughts_ are rang'd,
Which by _rude Winds_ disturb'd, are _nothing_ if they're chang'd.
Or are there too in _Writing softer Hours_?
Or is't that _Matter_ nobler _Mind_ o'erpow'rs,
Which boasts her _native Liberty_ in vain, 380
In _Mortal Fetters_ and a _Slavish Chain_?
_Death_ only can the _Gordian Knot_ divide, }
Tho by what secret wondrous _Bands_ 'tis ty'd, }
Ev'n _Reason's_ self must own she can't decide: }
For as the _rapid Tides_ of _Matter_ turn }
We're fann'd with _Pleasure_ or with _Anger_ burn, }
We _Love_ and _Hate_ again, we _Joy_ and _Mourn_. }
Now the swift _Torrent_ high and headstr