had reason to put Mr. Pope on writing the poem, called the Dunciad; and to hale those scoundrels out of their obscurity by telling their names at length, their works, their adventures, sometimes their lodgings, and their lineage; not with A's and B's according to the old way, which would be unknown in a few years.
As to your blank verse, it has too often fallen into the same vile hands of late. One Thomson, a Scotchman, has succeeded the best in that way, in four poems he has writ on the four seasons: yet I am not over fond of them, because they are all description, and nothing is doing; whereas Milton engages me in actions of the highest importance: Modo me Romæ, modo ponit Athenis: and yours on the seven psalms, &c. have some advantages that way.
You see Pope, Gay, and I, use all our endeavours to make folks merry and wise, and profess to have no enemies, except knaves and fools. I confess myself to be exempted from them in one article, which was engaging with a ministry to prevent, if possible, the evils that have overrun the nation, and, my foolish zeal in endeavouring to save this wretched island. Wherein though I succeeded absolutely in one important article[1]; yet even there I lost all hope of favour from those in power here, and disobliged the court of England, and have in twenty years drawn above one thousand scurrilous libels on myself, without any other recompense than the love of the Irish vulgar, and two or three dozen signposts of the drapier in this city, beside those that are
- ↑ Against Wood's copper halfpence.
