Poems on Several Occasions, Title page 1 – Preface
POEMS ON Several Occasions. WITH A PASTORAL.
To which is Added, A DISCOURSE OF LIFE.
By JOHN TVTCHIN.
LONDON, Printed by J. L. for Jonathan Greenwood, in the Black Raven in the Poultry, near the Old Jury. MDCLXXXV.
THE PREFACE.
GOOD Poetry needs no Apology, and Bad deserves no Commendation. I would not have the Reader think, I make Mine come under the latter Denomination, meerly out of Formality, because I would be so complaisant, as to let Others commend it for me: But, I'll assure you, I do it only to let the World know, I am not so unnatural a Parent, as to venture my Issue in the World, without a Word in its behalf. Of all Writers, Poets are most Happy; for while Others are puzling their Brains, to find a Reason for their Scribling; the Question was never put to a Poet, Why he Wrote? There are some Je ne scay quoy's in the World, we can give no Reason for: 'Tis as Natural for a Poet to write Verse, as 'tis for a Tory to talk Non-sense, or for an Old Sinner to Die impenitent. The greatest Reason that obliged me to Print these Trifles, was this: I had been so Vnfortunate, as to let them go out of my Hands; and had no other way to procure them, but by promising to Print them. If they advantage the Bookseller, I have my Desire. I am sensible enough of my own Failings; and I could heartily beg a Pardon for each Fault; but in so doing, I should discover my own Errors; which, perhaps, every one will not find. If I am somewhat Vnfashionable in my Writing, I cannot help it: I never intended to humour a Pedantick Age; nor to turn Bombast, to please Fop's and Fools. I never thought our Language so poor, that it needed to be set off with Words coin'd in the French or Italian Mould; nor did I ever think of Flying, but I thought on Icarus; and how soon your soaring Wits dwindles to Nonsense. I would make This of Mr. Waller my Maxim:
Tho' Poets may of Inspiration boast,
Their Rage, ill govern'd, in the Clouds is lost:
But who proportion'd Wonders can disclose,
At once his Judgment, and his Fancy shows.
I must confess, I never took that for Wit, which was (to use a New-born word) Unby-any-Fancy-fathomable.
As for the First Part: The most liable to Censure in it, is the Translations; wherein I have taken a large Scope; but yet, I think, I have not injur'd the Sense of the Author. Whoever pretends to express the Conceit of a Latin Poet, in a Litteral way, must have a more compendious Brain than I. Neither do I want a sufficient Modern Authority, for this Paraphrastical way of Writing. I had Translated the Best of Horace, his Art of Poetry; but finding it so excellently perform'd by the Earl of Roscommon, I was unwilling my Weakness should be a Foyl to his Wit; and therefore committed it to the Flames, to save Others the Labour.
As for the Second Part, the Pastoral: I shall only say this, That I meant it for a Piece of Dramatique; but I Writ it before I knew any such thing, as an Art in Poetry.
Now, the main Question will be, Why I could not have chosen more serious Subjects to have Treated on? But let those ask Youth, Why it is VVanton? As the Spring, Why it produces Buds and Flowers? Ask Rivers, Why they flow? And Fountains, Why they don't with-hold their Springs? I could, at this Time, have Published a Poem, that might have got me more Praise, both as to the Regular Parts of the Poem, and the Gravity of the Subject: But it was not my intent to Publish any, especially such as These; but they were meerly ex'orted. Neither shall I think they do, in the least, detract from Virtue; since I have Read the Poems of Beza, Heinsius, our own Donne, &c. But, at worst, it may pass for a Pardonable (if not Commendable) Extravagance, in one of my Years. I wish, all the VVild Oats sown by the Youth of this Age, did produce no worse an Harvest, than This. Poetry, tho' it be an useless Study, it is an innocent Recreation; and the Advantages that arise from it, are best known to them that exercise it. But those that cry down Poetry, in the general, forget that Part of the Sacred Writings were delivered in Verse: And it's well known, what Vse Divines have made of the Heathen Poets, in their Writings. If they Read (a)De Verlt. Rel.Grotius, (b)De Verit. Rel.Du Plessis, (c)Gnom. Hom.Duport, (d)De Causa Dei.Burthogge, and many more I could mention, they'd find the Antient Writings of the Poets not so inconsiderable. They all seem'd to be Inspir'd by a Divine Spirit, and to have some faint Glimmerings of the Eternal Mind diffused on their Souls; as One of them says: Est Deus in nobis, sunt nos commercia Coeli.
Nay, Plato goes farther; he calls them, foreign, The Sons of the Gods. I must confess, the Abuse of Poetry has been very great in these latter Ages; and since Mr. Cowley, there has been none that has endeavoured to Rectifie it. But if ever I exercise my Hand again this way, it shall be on some Graver Subject. I hope, here are no Expressions can offend the Tenderest Reader; if there be, I declare I meant nothing less. But the Reader has this one sure Antidote; If he lets it alone, 'twill do him no Harm.
Naturallists tell us, That the Spider can suck Poison out of the sweetest Flower: And so a deprav'd Inclination may do out of the best Sense. Poetry is not altogether a Picture of the Poet's Mind and Inclination; but a Picture of the Thing they represent: Tho' it may be, like bitter Drinks, disgustful to the Palate; yet it is good for the Health of the VVhole: And tho' it may be airy in the Expression, it ought be good and solid in the Moral.
John Tutchin.