the absurdity of Philips or the superior merit of Pope. The article was
anonymously or pseudonymously forwarded to the _Guardian_, and was in
due course published. Philips was furious, and providing himself with a
birch rod, threatened to flog Pope. The latter, not content with his
ingenious revenge, prevailed upon his friend Gay to continue the warfare
and to burlesque Philips' performances in a series of realistic
representations of country life."[3] Gay entered into the sport with
joy--it was a game after his own heart, and one for which his talent was
particularly fitted. He begins his "Proeme to the Gentle Reader" with a
most palpable hit: "Great marvel hath it been (and that not unworthily)
to diverse worthy wits, that in this our island of Britain, in all rare
sciences so greatly abounding, more especially in all kinds of poesie
highly flourishing, no poet (though other ways of notable cunning in
roundelays) hath hit on the right simple eclogue after this true ancient
guise of Theocritus, before this mine attempt. Other Poet travelling in
this plain highway of Pastoral I know none." Presently comes an attack
but little disguised on Philips: "Thou will not find my shepherdesses
idly piping on oaten reeds, but milking the kine, tying up the sheaves,
or if the hogs are astray driving them to their styes. My shepherd
gathereth none other nosegays but what are the growth of our own fields,
he sleepeth not under myrtle shades, but under a hedge, nor doth he
vigilantly defend his flocks from wolves, because there are none, as
maister Spenser well observeth:--

Well is known that since the Saxon King
Never was wolf seen, many or some,
Nor in all Kent nor in Christendom."

Yet a third extract from this satirical "Proeme" must be given, and
this in connection with the language of these eclogues: "That