t;
Like Virgil correct, with his own native ease,
But excels even Virgil in elegant praise:
Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due
Yet writes in a manner entirely new;
Though none with more ease their depths can explore,
Yet whatever he wants he takes from my store;
Though I'm fond of his virtues, his pride I can see,
In scorning to borrow from any but me:
It is owing to this, that, like Cynthia,[5] his lays
Enlighten the world by reflecting my rays.
This said, the whole audience soon found out his drift:
The convention was summon'd in favour of SWIFT.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Trapp or Trap, ridiculed by Swift in "The Tatler," No.
66, as parson Dapper. He was sent to Ireland as chaplain to Sir
Constantine Phipps, Lord Chancellor, in 1710-11. But in July, 1712, Swift
writes to Stella, "I have made Trap chaplain to Lord Bolingbroke, and
he is mighty happy and thankful for it." He translated the "Aeneid" into
blank verse.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Prior, concerning whose "Journey to France," Swift wrote a
"formal relation, all pure invention," which had a great sale, and was a
"pure bite." See Journal to Stella, Sept., 1711.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: Pope, and his translations of the "Iliad" and
"Odyssey."--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 4: Gay; alluding to his "Trivia."--_N_.]

[Footnote 5: Diana.]

APOLLO'S EDICT
OCCASIONED BY "NEWS FROM PARNASSUS"

Ireland is now our royal care,
We lately fix'd our viceroy there.
How near was she to be undone,
Till pious love inspired her son!
What cannot our vicegerent do,
As poet and as patriot too?
Let his success our subjects sway,
Our inspirations to obey,
And follow where he leads the way:
Then study to correct your taste;
Nor beaten paths be longer traced.
No simile shall be begun,
With rising or with setting sun;
And let the secret head of Nile
Be ever banish'd from your isle.
When wretched lovers live on air,
I beg you'll the chameleon spare;
And when you'd make a hero grander,
Forget he's like a salamander.[1]
No son of mine shall dare to say,
Aurora usher'd in the day,
Or ever name the milky-way.
You all agree, I make no doubt,
Elijah's mantle is worn out.
The bird of Jove shall toil no more
To teach the humble wren to soar.
Your tragic heroes shall not rant,
Nor shepherds use poetic cant.
Simplicity alone can grace
The manners of the rural race.
Theocritus and Philips be
Your guides to true simplicity.
When Damon's soul shall ta