Your Stile will this through all Disguises show, For none, explain, more clearly than they Know. He only proves he Understands a Text, Whose Exposition leaves it unperplex'd. They, who too faithfully on Names insist, Rather Create than Dissipate the Mist. Let Crassus's Ghost, and Labienus tell How twice in Parthian plains their Legions fell. The Genuine Sence, intelligibly Told, Shews a Translator both Discreet, and Bold.
Excursions are inexpiably Bad.
With painful Care but seeming easiness, For truth shines brightest through the plainest dress. Yet writes sometimes as soft and moving things As Venus speaks or Philomela sings. Your Author alwayes will the best advise, Fall when He falls, and when He Rises, Rise. In spight of non sense never fail of Sound. Whatever Sister of the learned Nine Do's to your Suit a willing Ear incline, Urge your success, deserve a lasting Name, She'l Crown a Grateful and a Constant Flame.