Page:An Essay on Criticism - Pope (1711).pdf/17

Against the Poets their own Arms they turn'd,
Sure to hate most the Men from whom they learn'd.
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 dryly plain, without Invention's Aid,
Write dull Receits how Poems may be made:
These lost the Sense, their Learning to display,
And those explain'd the Meaning quite away.
You then whose Judgment the right Course wou'd steer,
Know well each Ancient's proper Character,
His Fable, Subject, Scope in ev'ry Page,
Religion, Country, Genius of his Age:
Without all these at once before your Eyes,
You may Confound, but never Criticize.
Be Homer's Works your Study, and Delight,
Read them by Day, and meditate by Night,

Thence