And rest the breathless _Muse_ with cautious _Wing_:
Of _Embryo Thoughts_, unripen'd yet by Time, 440
The Rules of _Verse_, of _Quantity_ and _Rhime_:
With trembling Steps through _Shades_ unknown I stray,
And mark a _rugged_ and a _dubious_ way;
Yet some small _glimm'ring Light_ will hence be show'd,
And future _Trav'lers_ may enlarge the _Road_.
[Sidenote: _Measure_.]
Of CHAUCER'S Verse we scarce the _Measures_ know,
So _rough_ the _Lines_, and so _unequal_ flow;
Whether by Injury of _Time_ defac'd,
Or _careless_ at the _first_, and writ in _haste_;
Or _coursly_, like old _Ennius_, he _design'd_ 450
What After-days have _polish'd_ and _refin'd_.
SPENCER more _smooth_ and _neat_, and none than He
Could better skill of _English Quantity_;
Tho by his _Stanza_ cramp'd, his _Rhimes_ less chast,
And _antique Words_ affected all disgrac'd;
Yet _vast_ his _Genius, noble_ were his _Thoughts_,
Whence equal Readers wink at _lesser_ Faults.
From _France_ their _Alexandrins_ we receive
Which more of _Liberty_ and _Compass_ give;
Hence by our dull Translators were they us'd, 460
Nor CHAPMAN nor old STERNHOLD these refus'd;
They borrow from _Hexameters_ their _Feet_,
Which with _Asclepiads_ and _Iambicks_ meet;
Yet in the midst we still a _Weakness_ see,
Their _Music_ gives us no _Variety_.
More _num'rous_ the _Pentameter_ and _strong_,
Which to our _Saxon Fathers_ did belong.