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diff --git a/9601.txt b/9601.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bef5190 --- /dev/null +++ b/9601.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14722 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Pope, Vol. II, by Alexander Pope + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poetical Works of Pope, Vol. II + +Author: Alexander Pope + +Posting Date: December 7, 2011 [EBook #9601] +Release Date: January, 2006 +First Posted: October 9, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF POPE, VOL. II *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David King and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +ALEXANDER POPE. + + + +_With Memoir, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes_, + +BY THE + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + + +VOL. II. + +M.DCCC.LVI. + + + + +THE GENIUS AND POETRY OF POPE. + + +Few poets during their lifetime have been at once so much admired and so +much abused as Pope. Some writers, destined to oblivion in after-ages, +have been loaded with laurels in their own time; while others, on whom +Fame was one day to "wait like a menial," have gone to the grave +neglected, if not decried and depreciated. But it was the fate of Pope +to combine in his single experience the extremes of detraction and +flattery--to have the sunshine of applause and the hail-storm of calumny +mingled on his living head; while over his dead body, as over the body +of Patroclus, there has raged a critical controversy, involving not +merely his character as a man, but his claims as a poet. For this, +unquestionably, there are some subordinate reasons. Pope's religious +creed, his political connexions, his easy circumstances, his popularity +with the upper classes, as well as his testy temper and malicious +disposition, all tended to rouse against him, while he lived, a personal +as well as public hostility, altogether irrespective of the mere merit +or demerit of his poetry. "We cannot bear a Papist to be our principal +bard," said one class. "No Tory for our translator of Homer," cried the +zealous Whigs, "Poets should be poor, and Pope is independent," growled +Grub Street. The ancients could not endure that a "poet should build an +house, but this varlet has dug a grotto, and established a clandestine +connexion between Parnassus and the Temple of Plutus." "Pope," said +others, "is hand-in-glove with Lords Oxford and Bolingbroke, and it was +never so seen before in any genuine child of genius." "He is a little +ugly insect," cried another class; "can such a misbegotten brat be a +favourite with the beautiful Apollo?" "He is as venomous and spiteful as +he is small; never was so much of the 'essence of devil' packed into +such a tiny compass," said another set; "and this, to be sure, is +England's great poet!" Besides these personal objections, there were +others of a more solid character. While all admitted the exquisite +polish and terse language of Pope's compositions, many felt that they +were too artificial--that they were often imitative--that they seldom +displayed those qualities of original thought and sublime enthusiasm +which had formed the chief characteristics of England's best bards, and +were slow to rank the author of "Eloisa and Abelard," with the creator +of "Hamlet," "Othello," and "Lear;" the author of the "Rape of the Lock" +with the author of "Paradise Lost;" the author of the "Pastorals," with +the author of the "Faery Queen;" and the author of the "Imitations of +Horace," with the author of the "Canterbury Tales." On the one hand, +Pope's ardent friends erred in classing him with or above these great +old writers; and on the other, his enemies were thus provoked to thrust +him too far down in the scale, and to deny him genius altogether. Since +his death, his fame has continued to vibrate between extremes. Lord +Byron and Lord Carlisle (the latter, in a lecture delivered in Leeds in +December 1850, and published afterwards) have placed him ridiculously +high; while Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Bowles, have underrated him. It +shall be our endeavour, in our succeeding remarks, to steer a middle +course between the parties. + +Lord Carlisle commenced his able and eloquent prelection by deploring +the fact, that Pope had sunk in estimation. And yet, a few sentences +after, he told us that the "Commissioners of the Fine Arts" selected +Pope, along with Chaucer, Shakspeare, Spenser, Milton, and Dryden, to +fill the six vacant places in the New Palace of Westminster. This does +not substantiate the assertion, that Pope has sunk in estimation. Had he +sunk to any great extent, the Commissioners would not have dared to put +his name and statue beside those of the acknowledged masters of English +poetry. But apart from this, we do think that Lord Carlisle has +exaggerated the "Decline and Fall" of the empire of Pope. He is still, +with the exception, perhaps, of Cowper, the most popular poet of the +eighteenth century. His "Essay on Man," and his "Eloisa and Abelard," +are probably in every good library, public and private, in Great +Britain. Can we say as much of Chaucer and Spenser? Passages and lines +of his poetry are stamped on the memory of all well-educated men. More +pointed sayings of Pope are afloat than of any English poet, except +Shakspeare and Young. Indeed, if frequency of quotation be the principal +proof of popularity, Pope, with Shakspeare, Young, and Spenser, is one +of the four most popular of English poets. In America, too, Lord +Carlisle found, he tells us, the most cultivated and literary portion of +that great community warmly imbued with an admiration of Pope. + +What more would, or at least should, his lordship desire? Pope is, by +his own showing, a great favourite with many wherever the English +language is spoken, and that, too, a century after his death. And there +are few critics who would refuse to subscribe, on the whole, Lord +Carlisle's enumeration of the Poet's qualities; his terse and motto-like +lines--the elaborate gloss of his mock-heroic vein--the tenderness of +his pathos--the point and polished strength of his satire--the force and +_vraisemblance_ of his descriptions of character--the delicacy and +refinement of his compliments, "each of which," says Hazlitt, "is as +good as an house or estate"--and the heights of moral grandeur into +which he can at times soar, whenever he has manly indignation, or +warm-hearted patriotism, or high-minded scorn to express. If Lord +Carlisle's object, then, was to elevate Pope to the rank of a classic, +it was a superfluous task; if it was to justify the Commissioners in +placing him on a level with Chaucer, Shakspeare, Spenser, and Milton, +our remarks will show that we think it as vain as superfluous. + +In endeavouring to fix the rank of a poet, there are, we think, the +following elements to be analysed:--His original genius--his kind and +degree of culture--his purpose--his special faculties--the works he has +written--and the amount of impression he has made on, and impulse he has +given to, his own age and the world. In other words, what were his +native powers, and what has he done, _for_, _by_, and _with_ them? + +Now, that Pope possessed genius, and genius of a high order, we +strenuously maintain. But whether this amounted to creative power, the +highest quality of the poet, is a very different question. In native +imagination, that eyesight of the soul, which sees in the rose a richer +red, in the sky a deeper azure, in the sea a more dazzling foam, in the +stars a softer and more spiritual gold, and in the sky a more dread +magnificence than nature ever gave them, that beholds the Ideal always +shining through and above the Real, and that lights the poet on to form +within a new and more gorgeous nature, the fresh creation of his own +inspired mind, Pope was not only inferior to Chaucer, Shakspeare, +Spenser, and Milton, but to Young, Thomson, Collins, Burns, Wordsworth, +Keats, Shelley, Byron, Coleridge, and many other poets. His native +faculty, indeed, seems rather fine than powerful--rather timid than +daring, and resembles rather the petal of a rose peeping out into the +summer air, which seems scarce warm enough for its shrinking loveliness, +than the feather of the wing of a great eagle, dipping into the night +tempest, which raves around the inaccessible rock of his birthplace. He +was not eminently original in his thinking. In proof of this, many of +those fine sentiments which Pope has thrown into such perfect shape, and +to which he has given such dazzling burnish, are found by Watson (see +the "Adventurer") in Pascal and others. Shakspeare's wisdom, on the +other hand, can be traced to Shakspeare's brain, and no further, +although he has borrowed the plots of his plays. Who lent Chaucer his +pictures, fresh as dewdrops from the womb of the morning? Spenser's +Allegories are as native to him as his dreams; and if Milton has now and +then carried off a load which belonged to another, it was a load which +only a giant's arm could lift, and which he added to a caravan of +priceless wealth, the native inheritance of his own genius. + +The highest rank of poets descend on their sublime subjects, like Uriel, +descending alongst his sunbeam on the mountain tops; another order, with +care, and effort, and circumspection, often with + +'Labour dire and weary woe,' + +reach noble heights, and there wave their hats, and dance in +astonishment at their own perseverance and success. So it is with Pope +in his peroration to the Dunciad, and in many other of the serious and +really eloquent passages of his works. They ARE eloquent, brilliant, in +composition faultless; but the intense self-consciousness of their +author, and their visible elaboration, prevent them from seeming or +being great. Of Pope, you say, "He smells of the midnight lamp;" of +Dante, boys cried out on the street, "Lo! the man that was in hell." +With the very first class of poets, artificial objects become natural, +the "rod" becomes a "serpent;" with Pope, natural objects become +artificial, the "serpent" becomes a "rod." Wordsworth makes a spade +poetical; Pope would have made Skiddaw little better than a mass of +prose. + +Let us hear Hazlitt: "Pope saw nature only dressed by art; he judged of +beauty by fashion; he sought for truth in the opinions of the world; he +judged the feelings of others by his own. The capacious soul of +Shakspeare had an intuitive and mighty sympathy with whatever could +enter into the heart of man in all possible circumstances; Pope had an +exact knowledge of all that he himself loved or hated, wished or wanted. +Milton has winged his daring flight from heaven to earth, through Chaos +and old Night; Pope's Muse never wandered in safety, but from his +library to his grotto, or from his grotto into his library, back again. +His mind dwelt with greater pleasure on his own garden than on the +garden of Eden; he could describe the faultless whole-length mirror that +reflected his own person, better than the smooth surface of the lake +that reflects the face of heaven; a piece of cut glass or pair of +paste-buckles with more brilliancy and effect than a thousand dewdrops +glittering in the sun. He would be more delighted with a patent lamp +than with the 'pale reflex of Cynthia's brow,' that fills the sky with +the soft silent lustre that trembles through the cottage window, and +cheers the mariner on the lonely wave. He was the poet of personality +and polished life. That which was nearest to him was the greatest. His +mind was the antithesis of strength and grandeur; its power was the +power of indifference. He had none of the enthusiasm of poetry; he was +in poetry what the sceptic is in religion. In his smooth and polished +verse we meet with no prodigies of nature, but with miracles of wit; the +thunders of his pen are whispered flatteries; its forked lightnings, +pointed sarcasms; for the 'gnarled oak,' he gives us the 'soft myrtle;' +for rocks, and seas, and mountains, artificial grass-plots, +gravel-walks, and tinkling rills; for earthquakes and tempests, the +breaking of a flower-pot or the fall of a China jar; for the tug and war +of the elements, or the deadly strife of the passions, + +"'Calm contemplation and poetic ease.' + +"Yet within this retired and narrow circle, how much, and that how +exquisite, was contained! What discrimination, what wit, what delicacy, +what fancy, what lurking spleen, what elegance of thought, what pampered +refinement of sentiment!" + +A great deal of discussion took place, during the famous controversy +about Pope between Bowles and Byron, on the questions--what objects are +and are not fitted for poetic purposes, and whether natural or +artificial objects be better suited for the treatment of the poet. In +our life of Bowles we promised, and shall now proceed to attempt, a +short review of the question then at issue, and which on both sides was +pled with such ingenuity, ardour, and eloquence. + +The question, professedly that of the _province_, slides away into what +is the _nature_ of poetry. The object of poetry is, we think, to show +the infinite through the finite--to reveal the ideal in the real--it +seeks, by clustering analogies and associations around objects, to give +them a beautiful, or sublime, or interesting, or terrible aspect which +is not entirely their own. Now, as all objects in comparison with the +infinite are finite, and all realities in comparison with the ideal are +little, it follows that between artificial and natural objects, as +fitted for poetic purposes, there is no immense disparity, and that both +are capable of poetic treatment. Both, accordingly, have become +subservient to high poetic effect; and even the preponderance, whatever +it be on the part of natural objects, has sometimes been equalised by +the power of genius, and artificial things have often been made to wring +the heart or awaken the fancy, as much or more than the other class. +Think, for instance, of the words in Lear, + +"Prithee, undo this button. Thank you, sir." + +What more contemptibly artificial than a button? And yet, beating in the +wind of the hysterical passion which is tearing the heart of the poor +dying king, what a powerful index of misery it becomes, and its +"undoing," as the sign of the end of the tragedy, and the letting forth +of the great injured soul, has melted many to tears! When Lady Macbeth +exclaims, in that terrible crisis, + +"Give me the daggers!"' + +who feels not, that, although a dagger be only an artificial thing, no +natural or supernatural thing, not the flaming sword of the Cherubim +itself, could seem, in the circumstances, more fearfully sublime. What +action more artificial than dancing, and yet how grand it seems, in +Ford's heroine, who continues to dance on till the ball is finished, +while the news of "death, and death, and death" of friend, brother, +husband, are successively recounted to her--and then herself expires! +There seems no comparison between a diamond and a star, and yet a +Shakspeare or a Schiller could so describe the trembling of a diamond on +the brow say of Belshazzar when the apparition of the writing on the +wall disturbed his impious feast, that it would seem more ideal and more +magnificent than a star "trembling on the hand of God" when newly +created, or trembling on the verge of everlasting darkness, when its +hour had come. A slipper seems a very commonplace object; but how +interesting the veritable slipper of Empedocles, who flung himself into +Etna, whose slipper was disgorged by the volcano, and as a link, +connecting the seen with the unseen, the grassy earth with the burning +entrails of the eternal furnace, became intensely imaginative! A feather +in a cap (even though it were an eagle's) seems, from its position, an +object sufficiently artificial; but how affecting the black plume of +Ravenswood floating on the waves which had engulphed the proud head that +once bore it, and which old Caleb took up, dried, and placed in his +bosom! + +Nor are we sure that there are _any_ objects so small or vulgar but what +genius could extract poetry from them. In Pope's hands, indeed, the +"clouded cane" and the "amber snuff-box" of Sir Plume assume no ideal +aspect; but in Shakspeare's it might have been different; and the +highest order of genius, like true catholicity of faith, counts "nothing +common or unclean." What poetry Burns has gathered up even in "Poosie +Nancy's," which had been lying unsuspected at the feet of beggars, +prostitutes, and pickpockets! What powerful imagination there is in +Crabbe's descriptions of poorhouses, prisons, and asylums; and in +Wordsworth's "Old Cumberland Beggar," who, although he lived and died in +the "eye of nature," was clothed in rags, and had the vulgar, mendicant +meal-bag slung over his shoulders! What pathos Scott extracts from that +"black bitch of a boat," which Mucklebackit, in the frenzy of his grief, +accuses for the loss of his son! Which of the lower animals less +poetical or coarser than a swine? and yet Shakspeare introduces such a +creature with great effect in "Macbeth," in that weird dialogue of the +witches-- + +"Where hast thou been, sister?" +"Killing swine." + +And Goethe makes it ideal by mingling it with the mad revelry of the +"Walpurgis Night"-- + +"An able sow, with old Baubo upon her. +Is worthy of glory and worthy of honour." + +The whole truth on this vexed question may perhaps be summed up in the +following propositions:--1st, No object, natural or artificial, is _per +se_ out of the province of imagination; 2d, There is no _infinite_ gulf +between natural and artificial objects, or between the higher and lower +degrees of either, as subjects for the idealising power of poetry; 3d, +Ere any object natural or artificial, become poetical, it must be +subjected more or less to the transfiguring power of imagination; and, +4th, Some objects in nature, and some in art, need less of this +transforming magic than others, and are thus _intrinsically_, although +not _immeasurably_, superior in adaptation to the purposes of poetry. + +The great point, after all, is, What eye beholds objects, whether +natural or artificial? Is it a poetical eye or not? For given a poet's +eye, then it matters little on what object that eye be fixed, it becomes +poetical; where there is intrinsic poetry--as in mountains, the sea, the +sky, the stars--it comes rushing out to the silent spell of genius; +where there is less--as in artificial objects, or the poorer productions +of nature--the mind of the poet must exert itself tenfold, and shed on +it its own wealth and glory. Now, Pope, we fear, wanted almost entirely +this true second sight. Take, for instance, the "lock" in the famous +"Rape!" What fancy, humour, wit, eloquence, he brings to play around it! +But he never touches it, even _en passant_, with a ray of poetry. You +never could dream of intertwining it with + +"The tangles of Neaera's hair," + +far less with the "golden tresses" and "wanton ringlets" of our primeval +parent in the garden of Eden. Shakspeare, on the other hand, would have +made it a dropping from the shorn sun, or a mad moonbeam gone astray, or +a tress fallen from the hair of the star Venus, as she gazed too +intently at her own image in the calm evening sea. Nor will Pope leave +the "lock" entire in its beautiful smallness. He must apply a microscope +to it, and stake his fame on idealising its subdivided, single hairs. +The sylphs are created by combining the agility of Ariel with the lively +impertinence of the inhabitants of Lilliput. Yet with what ease, +elegance, and lingering love does he draw his petty Pucks, till, though +too tiny for touch, they become palpable to vision! On the whole, had +not the "Tempest" and the "Midsummer Night's Dream" existed before the +"Rape of the Lock," the machinery in it would have proclaimed Pope a man +of creative imagination. As it is, it proves wonderful activity of +fancy. Shakspeare's delicate creations are touched again without +crumbling at the touch, clad in new down, fed on a fresh supply of +"honey-dew," and sent out on minor but aerial errands--although, after +all, we prefer Puck and Ariel--not to speak of those delectable +personages, Cobweb, Peaseblossom, and Mustardseed. Ariel's "oak," in our +poet's hands, becomes a "vial"--"knotty entrails" are exchanged for a +"bodkin's eye"--the fine dew of the "still vexed Bermoothes" is degraded +into an "essence;" pomatum takes the place of poetry; the enchanted +lock, of an enchanted isle; and the transformation of original +imagination into ingenious fancy is completed before your eyes. Let the +admirers of Pope, like the worshippers of Caesar of old, "beg a _hair_ of +him for memory;" for certainly he is more at home among hairs and curls +than in any field where he has chosen to exercise his powers. + +About Pope originally there was a small, trivial, and stinted +_something_ which did not promise even the greatness he actually +attained. We do not allude merely to his small stature, remembering that +the nine-pin Napoleon overthrew half the thrones in Europe. But _he_ +possessed _sana mens in sano copore_, an erect figure, and was "every +inch a man," although his inches were few; while in Pope, both bodily +and mentally, there lay a crooked, waspish, and petty nature. His form +too faithfully reflected his character. He was never, from the beginning +to the close of his life, a great, broad, genial being. There was an +unhealthy taint which partly enfeebled and partly corrupted him. His +self-will, his ambition, his Pariah position, as belonging to the Roman +Catholic faith, the feebleness of his constitution, the uncertainty of +his real creed, and one or two other circumstances we do not choose to +name, combined to create a life-long ulcer in his heart and temper, +against which the vigour of his mind, the enthusiasm of his literary +tastes, and the warmth of his heart, struggled with much difficulty. He +had not, in short, the basis of a truly great poet, either in +imagination or in nature. Nor, with all his incredible industry, tact, +and talent, did he ever rise into the "seventh heaven of invention." A +splendid sylph let us call him--a "giant angel" he was not. + +His culture, like his genius, was rather elegant than profound. He lived +in an age when a knowledge of the classics, with a tincture of the +metaphysics of the schools, was thought a good average stock of +learning, although it was the age, too, of such mighty scholars as +Bentley, Clarke, and Warlburton. Pope seems to have glanced over a great +variety of subjects with a rapid _recherce_ eye, not examined any one +with a quiet, deep, longing, lingering, exhaustive look. He was no +literary Behemoth, "trusting that he could draw up Jordan into his +mouth." He became thus neither an ill-informed writer, like Goldsmith, +whose ingenuity must make up for his ignorance, nor one of those +_doctorum vatum_, those learned poets, such as Dante, Milton, and +Coleridge, whose works alone, according at least to Buchanan, are to +obtain the rare and regal palm of immortality-- + +"_Sola doctorum_ monumenta vatum +Nesciunt fati imperium severi: +Sola contemnunt Phlegethonta, et Orci + Jura superbi." + +That his philosophy was empirical, is proved by his "Essay on Man," +which, notwithstanding all its brilliant rhetoric, is the shallow +version of a shallow system of naturalism. And one may accommodate to +him the well-known saying of Lyndhurst about Lord Brougham, "who would +have made a capital Chancellor if he had had only a little law;" so Pope +was very well qualified to have translated Homer, barring his ignorance +of Greek. But every page of his writings proves a wide and diversified +knowledge--a knowledge, too, which he has perfectly under control--which +he can make to go a great way--and by which, with admirable skill, he +can subserve alike his moral and literary purpose. But the question now +arises--What was his purpose? Was it worthy of his powers? Was it high, +holy, and faithfully pursued? No poet, we venture to say, can be great +without a great purpose. "Purpose is the edge and point of character; it +is the stamp and superscription of genius; it is the direction on the +letter of talent. Character without it is blunt and torpid; talent +without it is a letter which, undirected, goes nowhere; genius without +it is bullion, sluggish, splendid, and uncirculating." Now, Pope's +purpose seems, on the whole, dim and uncertain. He is indifferent to +destruction, and careless about conserving. He is neither an infidel nor +a Christian; no Whig, but no very ardent Tory either. He seems to wish +to support morality, but his support is stumbling and precarious; +although, on the other hand, notwithstanding his frequent coarseness of +language and looseness of allusion, he exhibits no desire to overturn or +undermine it. His bursts of moral feeling are very beautiful (such as +that containing the noble lines-- + +"Vice is undone if she forgets her earth, +And stoops from angels to the dregs of birth. +But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore: +Let greatness own her and she's mean no more. +Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess, +Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless. +In golden chains the willing world she draws, +And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws; +Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, +And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead.") + +But they are brief, seem the result of momentary moods rather than the +spray of a strong, steady current; and he soon turns from them to the +expression of his petty chagrins and personal animosities. In satire, he +has not the indomitable pace and deep-mouthed bellow of a Juvenal, +pursuing his object like a bloodhound: he resembles more a half-angry, +half-playful terrier. To obtain a terse and musical expression for his +thought is his artistic purpose, but that of his mind and moral nature +is not so apparent in his poetry. Indeed, we are tempted at times to +class him with his own sylphs in this respect, as well as in the +elegance and swiftness of his genius. They neither belonged to heaven +nor hell, but vibrated between in graceful gyrations. They laughed at, +and toyed with, all things--never rising to dangerous heights, never +sinking into profound abysses--fancying a lock a universe, and a +universe only a larger lock--dancing like evening ephemerae in the +sunbeam, which was to be their sepulchre, and shutting their tiny eyes +to all the solemn responsibilities, grave uncertainties, and mysterious +destinies of human nature. And so, too often, did their poet. + +Pope's special faculties are easily seen, and may be briefly enumerated. +Destitute of the highest imagination, and perhaps of constructive +power--(he has produced many brilliant parts, and many little, but no +large wholes)--he is otherwise prodigally endowed. He has a keen, +strong, clear intellect, which, if it seldom reaches sublimity, never +fails to eliminate sense. He has wit of a polished and vigorous +kind--less easy, indeed, than Addison's, the very curl of whose lip was +crucifixion to his foe. This wit, when exasperated into satire, is very +formidable, for, like Addison's, it does its work with little noise. +Pope whispers poetic perdition--he deals in drops of concentrated +bitterness--he stabs with a poisoned bodkin--he touches his enemies into +stone with the light and playful finger of a fairy--and his more +elaborate invectives glitter all over with the polish of profound +malignity. His knowledge of human nature, particularly of woman's heart, +is great, but seems more the result of impish eavesdropping than of that +thorough and genial insight which sympathy produces. He has listened at +the keyhole, not by any "Open Sesame" entered the chamber. He has rather +painted manners than men. His power of simulating passion is great; but +the passion must, in general, be mingled with unnatural elements ere he +can realise it--the game must be putrid ere he can enjoy its flavour. He +has no humour, at least in his poetry. It is too much of an unconscious +outflow, and partakes too much of the genial and the human nature for +him. His fancy is lively and copious, but its poetical products often +resemble the forced fruits of a hothouse rather than those of a natural +soil and climate. His description of Sporus, lauded by Byron as a piece +of imagination, is exceedingly artificial and far-fetched in its +figures--a mere mass of smoked gumflowers. Compare for fancy the +speeches of Mercutio, in "Romeo and Juliet," the "Rape of the Lock," if +we would see the difference between a spontaneous and artificial +outpouring of images, between a fancy as free as fervid, and one lashing +itself into productiveness. His power of describing natural objects is +far from first-rate; he enumerates instead of describing; he omits +nothing in the scene except the one thing needful--the bright poetical +gleam or haze which ought to have been there. There is the "grass" but +not the "splendour"--the "flower" but not the "glory." In depicting +character, it is very different. His likenesses of men and women, so far +as manners, external features, and the contrasts produced by the +accidents of circumstances and the mutation of affairs, are inimitable. +His power of complimenting is superior even to that of Louis XIV. He +picks out the one best quality in a man, sets it in gold, and presents +it as if he were conferring instead of describing a noble gift. + +"Would you be blest, despise low joys, low gains, +_Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains_; +Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains." + +Pope's language seems as if it were laboriously formed by himself for +his peculiar shape of mind, habits of thought, and style of poetry. +Compared to all English before him, Pope's English is a new although a +lesser language. He has so cut down, shorn, and trimmed the broad old +oak of Shakspeare's speech, that it seems another tree altogether. +Everything is so terse, so clear, so pointed, so elaborately easy, so +monotonously brilliant, that you must pause to remember. "These are the +very copulatives, diphthongs, and adjectives of Hooker, Milton, and +Jeremy Taylor." The change at first is pleasant, and has been generally +popular; but those who know and love our early authors, soon miss their +deep organ-tones, their gnarled strength, their intricate but intense +sweetness, their varied and voluminous music, their linked _chains_ of +lightning, and feel the difference between the fabricator of clever +lines and sparkling sentences, and the former of great passages and +works. In keeping with his style is his versification, the incessant +tinkling of a sheep-bell--sweet, small, monotonous--producing +perfectly-melodious single lines, but no grand interwoven swells and +well-proportioned masses of harmony. "Pope," says Hazlitt, "has turned +Pegasus into a rocking-horse." The noble gallop of Dryden's verse is +exchanged for a quick trot. And there is not even a point of comparison +between his sweet sing-song, and the wavy, snow-like, spirit-like motion +of Milton's loftier passages; or the gliding, pausing, fitful, +river-like progress of Shakspeare's verse; or the fretted fury, and +"torrent-rapture" of brave old Chapman in his translation of Homer; or +the rich, long-drawn-out, slow-swimming, now soft-languishing, and now +full-gushing melody of Spenser's "Faery Queen."--Yet, within his own +sphere, Pope was, as Scott calls him, a "Deacon of his craft;" he aimed +at, and secured, correctness and elegance; his part is not the highest, +but in it he approaches absolute perfection; and with all his monotony +of manner and versification, he is one of the most interesting of +writers, and many find a greater luxury in reading his pages than those +of any other poet. He is the _facile princeps_ of those poetical writers +who have written for, and are so singularly appreciated by, the +fastidious--that class who are more staggered by faults than delighted +with beauties. + +Our glance at his individual works must be brief and cursory. His "Ode +to Solitude" is the most simple and natural thing he ever wrote, and in +it he seems to say to nature, "Vale, longum vale." His "Pastorals" have +an unnatural and luscious sweetness. He has sugared his milk; it is not, +as it ought to be, warm from the cow, and fresh as the clover. How +different his "Rural Life" from the rude, rough pictures of Theocritus, +and the delightfully true and genial pages of the "Gentle Shepherd!" His +"Windsor Forest" is an elegant accumulation of sweet sonnets and +pleasant images, but the freshness of the dew is not resting on every +bud and blade. No shadowy forms are seen retiring amidst the glades of +the forest; no Uriels seem descending on the sudden slips of afternoon +sunshine which pierce athwart the green or brown masses of foliage; and +you cannot say of his descriptions that + +"Visions, as poetic eyes avow, +Hang on each leaf and cling to every bough." + +Shelley studied the scenery of his fine poem, "Alastor," in the same +shades with Pope; but he had, like Jonathan of old, touched his lips +with a rod dipped in poetic honey, and his "eyes were enlightened" to +see sights of beauty and mystery which to the other are denied. Keats +could have comprised all the poetry of "Windsor Forest" into one sonnet +or line; indeed, has he not done so, where, describing his soul +following the note of the nightingale into the far depths of the woods, +where she is pouring out her heart in song, he says-- + +"And with thee fade away into the forest dim?" + +The "Essay on Criticism" is rather a wonderful, intellectual, and +artistic feat, than a true poem. It is astonishing as the work of a boy +of nineteen, and contains a unique collection of clever and sparkling +sentences, displaying the highest powers of acuteness and assimilation, +if not much profound and original insight or genius. This poem suggests +the wish that more of our critics would write in verse. The music might +lessen the malice, and set off the commonplace to advantage, so that if +there were no "reason," there might be at least "rhyme." His "Lines to +the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady" are too elaborate and artificial for +the theme. It is a tale of intrigue, murder, and suicide, set to a +musical snuff-box! His "Rape of the Lock" we have already characterised. +It is an "Iliad in a nutshell," an Epic of Lilliput, where all the +proportions are accurately observed, and where the finishing is so exact +and admirable, that you fancy the author to have had microscopic eyes. +It contains certainly the most elegant and brilliant badinage, the most +graceful raillery, the most finished nonsense, and one of the most +exquisitely-managed machineries in the language. His "Eloisa and +Abelard," a poem beautiful and almost unequalled in execution, is ill +chosen in subject. He compels you indeed to weep, but you blame and +trample on your tears after they are shed. Pope in this poem, as Shelley +in the "Cenci," has tried to extract beauty from moral deformity, and to +glorify putrefaction. But who can long love to gaze at worms, however +well painted, or will be disposed to pardon the monstrous choice of a +dead or demon bride for the splendour of her wedding-garment? The +passion of the Eloisa and that of the Cenci were both indeed facts; but +many facts should be veiled statues in the Temple of Truth. To do, +however, both Pope and Shelley justice, they touch their painful and +shocking themes with extreme delicacy. "Dryden," well remarks Campbell, +"would have given but a coarse draught of Eloisa's passion." Pope's +Epistles, Satires, Imitations, &c., contain much of the most spirited +sense and elegant sarcasm in literature. The portraits of "Villars" and +"Atticus" will occur to every reader as masterpieces in power, although +we deem the latter grossly unjust to a good and great man. His Homer is +rather an adaptation than a translation--far less a "transfusion" of the +Grecian bard. Pope does not, indeed, clothe the old blind rhapsodist +with a bag-wig and sword; but he does all short of this to make him a +fine modern gentleman. Scott, we think, could have best rendered Homer +in his ballad-rhyme. Chapman is Chapman, but he is not Homer. Pope is +Pope, and Hobbes is Hobbes, and Sotheby is Sotheby, and Cowper is +Cowper, each doing his best to render Homer, but none of them is the +grand old Greek, whose lines are all simple and plain as brands, but +like brands pointed on their edges with fire. + +The "Essay on Man" ought to have been called an "Epigram on Man," or, +better still, should have been propounded as a riddle, to which the word +"Man" was to supply the solution. But an antithesis, epigram, or riddle +on man of 1300 lines, is rather long. It seems so especially as there is +no real or new light cast in it on man's nature or destiny. (We refer +our readers to the notes of Dr Croly's edition for a running commentary +of confutation to the "Essay on Man" distinguished by solid and +unanswerable acuteness of argument.) But such an eloquent and ingenious +puzzle as it is! It might have issued from the work-basket of Titania +herself. It is another evidence of Pope's greatness in trifles. How he +would have shone in fabricating the staves of the ark, or the fringes of +the tabernacle! + +The "Dunciad" is in many respects the ablest, the most elaborate, and +the most characteristic of Pope's poems. In embalming insignificance and +impaling folly he seems to have found, at last, his most congenial work. +With what apparently sovereign contempt, masterly ease, artistic calm, +and judicial gravity, does he set about it! And once his museum of +dunces is completed, with what dignity--the little tyrant that he +was!--does he march through it, and with what complacency does he point +to his slain and dried Dunces, and say, "Behold the work of my hands!" +It never seems to have occurred to him that his poem was destined to be +an everlasting memorial, not only of his enemies, but of the annoyance +he had met from them--at once of his strength in crushing, and his +weakness in feeling, their attacks, and in showing their mummies for +money. + +That Pope deserves, on the whole, the name of "poet," we are willing, as +aforesaid, to concede. But he was the most artificial of true poets. He +had in him a real though limited vein, but did not trust sufficiently to +it, and at once weakened and strengthened it by his peculiar kind of +cultivation. He weakened it as a faculty, but strengthened it as an art; +he lessened its inward force, but increased the elegance and facility of +its outward expression. What he might have attained, had he left his +study and trim gardens, and visited the Alps, Snowdon, or the +Grampians--had he studied Boileau less, and Dante, Milton, or the Bible +more--we cannot tell; but he certainly, in this case, would have left +works greater, if not more graceful, behind him; and if he had pleased +his own taste and that of his age less, he might have more effectually +touched the chord of the heart of all future time by his poetry. As it +is, his works resemble rather the London Colosseum than Westminster +Abbey. They are exquisite imitations of nature; but we never can apply +to them the words of the poet-- + +"O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, +As on its friends, with kindred eye; +For Nature gladly gave them place, +Adopted them into her race, +And granted them an equal date +With Andes and with Ararat." + +_Read_, and admired, Pope must always be--if not for his poetry and +passion, yet for his elegance, wit, satiric force, fidelity as a painter +of artificial life, and the clear, pellucid English. But his deficiency +in the creative faculty (a deficiency very marked in two of his most +lauded poems we have not specified, his "Messiah" and "Temple of Fame," +both eloquent imitations), his lack of profound thought, the general +poverty of his natural pictures (there are some fine ones in "Eloisa and +Abelard"), the coarse and bitter element often intermingled with his +satire, the monotonous glitter of his verse, and the want of profound +purpose in his writings, combine to class him below the first file of +poets. And vain are all attempts, such as those of Byron and Lord +Carlisle, to alter the general verdict. It is very difficult, after a +time, either to raise or depress an acknowledged classic; and Pope must +come, if he has not come already, to a peculiarly defined and strictly +apportioned place on the shelf. He was unquestionably the poet of his +age. But his age was far from being one of a lofty order: it was a low, +languid, artificial, and lazily sceptical age. It loved to be tickled; +and Pope tickled it with the finger of a master. It liked to be lulled, +at other times, into half-slumber; and the soft and even monotonies of +Pope's pastorals and "Windsor Forest" effected this end. It loved to be +suspended in a state of semi-doubt, swung to and fro in agreeable +equipoise; and the "Essay on Man" was precisely such a swing. It was +fond of a mixture of strong English sense with French graces and charms +of manner; and Pope supplied it. It was fond of keen, yet artfully +managed satire; and Pope furnished it in abundance. It loved nothing +that threatened greatly to disturb its equanimity or over-much to excite +or arouse it; and there was little of this in Pope. Had he been a really +great poet of the old Homer or Dante breed, he would have outshot his +age, till he "dwindled in the distance;" but in lieu of immediate fame, +and of elaborate lectures in the next century, to bolster it unduly up, +all generations would have "risen and called him blessed." + +We had intended some remarks on Pope as a prose-writer, and as a +correspondent; but want of space has compelled us to confine ourselves +to his poetry. + + + + +CONTENTS + +MORAL ESSAYS-- +Epistle I.--Of the Knowledge and Characters of Men +Epistle II.--Of the Characters of Women +Epistle III.--Of the Use of Riches +Epistle IV.--Of the Use of Riches +Epistle V.--Occasioned by his Dialogues on Medals + +TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS-- +Sappho to Phaon +The Fable of Dryope +Vertumnus and Pomona +The First Book of Statius's Thebais +January and May +The Wife of Bath + +PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES-- +A Prologue to a Play for Mr Dennis's Benefit +Prologue to Mr Addison's 'Cato' +Prologue to Mr Thomson's 'Sophonisba' +Prologue, designed for Mr D'Urfey's Last Play +Prologue to 'The Three Hours after Marriage' +Epilogue to Mr Rowe's 'Jane Shore' + +MISCELLANIES-- +The Basset-Table +Lines on receiving from the Right Hon. the Lady Frances Shirley a + Standish and Two Pens +Verbatim from Boileau +Answer to the following Question of Mrs Howe +Occasioned by some Verses of His Grace the Duke of Buckingham +Macer: a Character +Song, by a Person of Quality +On a Certain Lady at Court +On his Grotto at Twickenham +Roxana, or the Drawing-Room +To Lady Mary Wortley Montague +Extemporaneous Lines on a Portrait of Lady Mary Wortley Montague +Lines sung by Durastanti when she took leave of the English Stage +Upon the Duke of Marlborough's House at Woodstock +Verses left by Mr Pope, on his lying in the same bed which Wilmot slept + in at Adderbury +The Challenge +The Three Gentle Shepherds +Epigram, engraved on the Collar of a Dog +The Translator +The Looking-Glass +A Farewell to London +Sandys' Ghost +Umbra +Sylvia, a Fragment +Impromptu to Lady Winchelsea +Epigram +Epigram on the Feuds about Handel and Bononcini +On Mrs Tofts, a celebrated Opera Singer +The Balance of Europe +Epitaph on Lord Coningsby +Epigram +Epigram from the French +Epitaph on Gay +Epigram on the Toasts of the Kit-Kat Club +To a Lady, with 'The Temple of Fame' +On the Countess of Burlington cutting Paper +On Drawings of the Statues of Apollo, Venus, and Hercules +On Bentley's 'Milton' +Lines written in Windsor Forest +To Erinna +A Dialogue +Ode to Quinbus Flestrin +The Lamentation of Glumdalclitch for the Loss of Grildrig +To Mr Lemuel Gulliver +Mary Gulliver to Captain Lemuel Gulliver +1740, a Fragment of a Poem +The Fourth Epistle of the First Book of Horace +Epigram on one who made long Epitaphs +On an Old Gate +A Fragment +To Mr Gay +Argus +Prayer of Brutus +Lines on a Grotto, at Cruxeaston, Hants + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER + +THE DUNCIAD-- +A Letter to the Publisher +Martinus Scriblerus, his Prolegomena +Testimonies of Authors +Martinus Scriblerus of the Poem +Recardus Aristarchus of the Hero of the Poem +Book the First +Book the Second +Book the Third +Book the Fourth +Declaration by the Author + +APPENDIX-- +I. Preface prefixed to the Five First imperfect Editions +II. A List of Books, Papers, and Verses +III. Advertisement to the First Edition +IV. Advertisement to the First Edition of the Fourth Book +V. Advertisement to the Complete Edition of 1743 +VI. Advertisement printed in the Journals, 1730 +VII. A Parallel of the Characters of Mr Dryden and Mr Pope + +Index of Persons celebrated in this Poem + + + + +MORAL ESSAYS. + + +The 'Essay on Man' was intended to have been comprised in four books:-- + +The first of which, the author has given us under that title, in four +epistles. + +The second was to have consisted of the same number:--1. Of the extent +and limits of human reason. 2. Of those arts and sciences, and of the +parts of them, which are useful, and therefore attainable, together with +those which are unuseful, and therefore unattainable. 3. Of the nature, +ends, use, and application of the different capacities of men. 4. Of the +use of learning, of the science of the world, and of wit; concluding +with a satire against the misapplication of them, illustrated by +pictures, characters, and examples. + +The third book regarded civil regimen, or the science of politics, in +which the several forms of a republic were to have been examined and +explained; together with the several modes of religious worship, as far +forth as they affect society; between which the author always supposed +there was the most interesting relation and closest connexion; so that +this part would have treated of civil and religious society in their +full extent. + +The fourth and last book concerned private ethics or practical morality, +considered in all the circumstances, orders, professions, and stations +of human life. + +The scheme of all this had been maturely digested, and communicated to +the Lord Bolingbroke, Dr Swift, and one or two more, and was intended +for the only work of his riper years; but was, partly through ill +health, partly through discouragements from the depravity of the times, +and partly on prudential and other considerations, interrupted, +postponed, and, lastly, in a manner laid aside. + +But as this was the author's favourite work, which more exactly +reflected the image of his strong capacious mind, and as we can have but +a very imperfect idea of it from the _disjecta membra poetae_ that now +remain, it may not be amiss to be a little more particular concerning +each of these projected books. The first, as it treats of man in the +abstract, and considers him in general under every one of his relations, +becomes the foundation, and furnishes out the subjects, of the three +following; so that-- + +The second book takes up again the first and second epistles of the +first book, and treats of man in his intellectual capacity at large, as +has been explained above. Of this, only a small part of the conclusion +(which, as we said, was to have contained a satire against the +misapplication of wit and learning) may be found in the fourth book of +'The Dunciad,' and up and down, occasionally, in the other three. + +The third book, in like manner, reassumes the subject of the third +epistle of the first, which treats of man in his social, political, and +religious capacity. But this part the poet afterwards conceived might be +best executed in an epic poem; as the action would make it more +animated, and the fable less invidious; in which all the great +principles of true and false governments and religions should be chiefly +delivered in feigned examples. + +The fourth and last book pursues the subject of the fourth epistle of +the first, and treats of ethics, or practical morality; and would have +consisted of many members; of which the four following epistles were +detached portions: the two first, on the characters of men and women, +being the introductory part of this concluding book.--_Warburton._ + + +EPISTLE I.--TO SIR RICHARD TEMPLE, LORD COBHAM. + +ARGUMENT. + +OF THE KNOWLEDGE AND CHARACTERS OF MEN. + +That it is not sufficient for this knowledge to consider man in the +abstract: books will not serve the purpose, nor yet our own experience +singly, ver. 1. General maxims, unless they be formed upon both, will be +but notional, ver. 10. Some peculiarity in every man, characteristic to +himself, yet varying from himself, ver. 15. Difficulties arising from +our own passions, fancies, faculties, &c., ver. 31. The shortness of +life, to observe in, and the uncertainty of the principles of action in +men, to observe by, ver. 37, &c. Our own principle of action often hid +from ourselves, ver. 41. Some few characters plain, but in general +confounded, dissembled, or inconsistent, ver. 51. The same man utterly +different in different places and seasons, ver. 71. Unimaginable +weaknesses in the greatest, ver. 70, &c. Nothing constant and certain +but God and nature, ver. 95. No judging of the motives from the actions; +the same actions proceeding from contrary motives, and the same motives +influencing contrary actions, ver. 100. II. Yet to form characters, we +can only take the strongest actions of a man's life, and try to make +them agree: the utter uncertainty of this, from nature itself, and from +policy, ver. 120. Characters given according to the rank of men of the +world, ver. 135. And some reason for it, ver. 140. Education alters the +nature, or at least character of many, ver. 149. Actions, passions, +opinions, manners, humours, or principles, all subject to change. No +judging by nature, from ver. 158 to 174. III. It only remains to find +(if we can) his ruling passion: that will certainly influence all the +rest, and can reconcile the seeming or real inconsistency of all his +actions, ver. 175. Instanced in the extraordinary character of Clodio, +ver. 179. A caution against mistaking second qualities for first, which +will destroy all possibility of the knowledge of mankind, ver. 210. +Examples of the strength of the ruling passion, and its continuation to +the last breath, ver. 222, &c. + +Yes, you despise the man to books confined, +Who from his study rails at human kind; +Though what he learns he speaks, and may advance +Some general maxims, or be right by chance. +The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave, +That from his cage cries 'Cuckold,' 'Whore,' and 'Knave,' +Though many a passenger he rightly call, +You hold him no philosopher at all. + +And yet the fate of all extremes is such, +Men may be read, as well as books, too much. 10 +To observations which ourselves we make, +We grow more partial for the observer's sake; +To written wisdom, as another's, less: +Maxims are drawn from notions, those from guess. +There's some peculiar in each leaf and grain, +Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein: +Shall only man be taken in the gross? +Grant but as many sorts of mind as moss. + +That each from other differs, first confess; +Next that he varies from himself no less: 20 +Add nature's, custom's, reason's, passion's strife, +And all opinion's colours cast on life. + +Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows finds, +Quick whirls, and shifting eddies, of our minds? +On human actions reason though you can, +It may be reason, but it is not man: +His principle of action once explore, +That instant 'tis his principle no more. +Like following life through creatures you dissect, +You lose it in the moment you detect. 30 + +Yet more; the difference is as great between +The optics seeing, as the objects seen. +All manners take a tincture from our own; +Or come discolour'd, through our passions shown; +Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, +Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes. + +Nor will life's stream for observation stay, +It hurries all too fast to mark their way: +In vain sedate reflections we would make, +When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take. 40 +Oft, in the passions' wild rotation toss'd, +Our spring of action to ourselves is lost: +Tired, not determined, to the last we yield, +And what comes then is master of the field. +As the last image of that troubled heap, +When sense subsides, and fancy sports in sleep, +(Though past the recollection of the thought), +Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought: +Something as dim to our internal view, +Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. 50 + +True, some are open, and to all men known; +Others so very close, they're hid from none; +(So darkness strikes the sense no less than light) +Thus gracious Chandos is beloved at sight; +And every child hates Shylock, though his soul +Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole. +At half mankind when generous Manly raves, +All know 'tis virtue, for he thinks them knaves: +When universal homage Umbra pays, +All see 'tis vice, and itch of vulgar praise. 60 +When flattery glares, all hate it in a queen, +While one there is who charms us with his spleen. + +But these plain characters we rarely find; +Though strong the bent, yet quick the turns of mind: +Or puzzling contraries confound the whole; +Or affectations quite reverse the soul. +The dull, flat falsehood serves for policy; +And, in the cunning, truth itself's a lie: +Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise; +The fool lies hid in inconsistencies. 70 + +See the same man, in vigour, in the gout; +Alone, in company; in place, or out; +Early at business, and at hazard late; +Mad at a fox-chase, wise at a debate; +Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball; +Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall. + +Catius is ever moral, ever grave, +Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave, +Save just at dinner--then prefers, no doubt, +A rogue with venison to a saint without. 80 + +Who would not praise Patricio's[1] high desert, +His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart, +His comprehensive head, all interests weigh'd, +All Europe saved, yet Britain not betray'd? +He thanks you not, his pride is in picquet, +Newmarket fame, and judgment at a bet. + +What made (says Montaigne, or more sage Charron[2]) +Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon? +A perjured prince[3] a leaden saint revere, +A godless regent[4] tremble at a star? 90 +The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit, +Faithless through piety, and duped through wit? +Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule, +And just her wisest monarch made a fool? + +Know, God and Nature only are the same: +In man, the judgment shoots at flying game; +A bird of passage! gone as soon as found, +Now in the moon perhaps, now under ground. + +II. In vain the sage, with retrospective eye, +Would from the apparent _what_ conclude the _why_, 100 +Infer the motive from the deed, and show +That what we chanced was what we meant to do. +Behold! if fortune or a mistress frowns, +Some plunge in business, others shave their crowns: +To ease the soul of one oppressive weight, +This quits an empire, that embroils a state: +The same adust complexion has impell'd +Charles[5] to the convent, Philip[6] to the field. + +Not always actions show the man: we find +Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind; 110 +Perhaps prosperity becalm'd his breast, +Perhaps the wind just shifted from the east: +Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat, +Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the great: +Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, +He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: +Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise, +His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies. + +But grant that actions best discover man; +Take the most strong, and sort them as you can: 120 +The few that glare, each character must mark, +You balance not the many in the dark. +What will you do with such as disagree? +Suppress them, or miscall them policy? +Must then at once (the character to save) +The plain rough hero turn a crafty knave? +Alas! in truth the man but changed his mind, +Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not dined. +Ask why from Britain Caesar would retreat? +Caesar himself might whisper he was beat. 130 +Why risk the world's great empire for a punk?[7] +Caesar perhaps might answer he was drunk. +But, sage historians! 'tis your task to prove +One action, conduct; one, heroic love. + +'Tis from high life high characters are drawn; +A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn; +A judge is just, a chancellor juster still; +A gownman, learn'd; a bishop, what you will; +Wise, if a minister; but, if a king, +More wise, more learn'd, more just, more everything, 140 +Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate, +Born where Heaven's influence scarce can penetrate: +In life's low vale, the soil the virtues like, +They please as beauties, here as wonders strike. +Though the same sun with all-diffusive rays +Blush in the rose, and in the diamond blaze, +We prize the stronger effort of his power, +And justly set the gem above the flower. + +'Tis education forms the common mind, +Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. 150 +Boastful and rough, your first son is a squire; +The next a tradesman, meek, and much a liar; +Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave; +Will sneaks a scrivener, an exceeding knave: +Is he a Churchman? then he's fond of power: +A Quaker? sly: A Presbyterian? sour: +A smart free-thinker? all things in an hour. +Ask men's opinions: Scoto now shall tell +How trade increases, and the world goes well; +Strike off his pension, by the setting sun, 160 +And Britain, if not Europe, is undone. + +That gay free-thinker, a fine talker once, +What turns him now a stupid silent dunce? +Some god, or spirit he has lately found; +Or chanced to meet a minister that frown'd. + +Judge we by nature? Habit can efface, +Interest o'ercome, or policy take place: +By actions? those uncertainty divides: +By passions? these dissimulation hides: +Opinions? they still take a wider range: 170 +Find, if you can, in what you cannot change. + +Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes, +Tenets with books, and principles with times. + +III. Search, then, the ruling passion: there, alone, +The wild are constant, and the cunning known; +The fool consistent, and the false sincere; +Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here. +This clue once found, unravels all the rest, +The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confess'd. +Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, 180 +Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise: +Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, +Women and fools must like him or he dies; +Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke, +The club must hail him master of the joke. +Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? +He'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot[8] too. +Then turns repentant, and his God adores +With the same spirit that he drinks and whores; +Enough if all around him but admire, 190 +And now the punk applaud, and now the friar. +Thus with each gift of nature and of art, +And wanting nothing but an honest heart; +Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt; +And most contemptible, to shun contempt; +His passion still to covet general praise, +His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways; +A constant bounty which no friend has made; +An angel tongue, which no man can persuade; +A fool, with more of wit than half mankind, 200 +Too rash for thought, for action too refined; +A tyrant to the wife his heart approves; +A rebel to the very king he loves; +He dies, sad outcast of each church and state, +And, harder still! flagitious, yet not great. +Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule +'Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool. + +Nature well known, no prodigies remain, +Comets are regular, and Wharton plain. + +Yet, in this search, the wisest may mistake, 210 +If second qualities for first they take. +When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store; +When Caesar made a noble dame a whore;[9] +In this the lust, in that the avarice +Were means, not ends; ambition was the vice. +That very Caesar, born in Scipio's days, +Had aim'd, like him, by chastity at praise. +Lucullus, when frugality could charm, +Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm. +In vain the observer eyes the builder's toil, 220 +But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile. + +In this one passion man can strength enjoy, +As fits give vigour, just when they destroy. +Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand, +Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last sand. +Consistent in our follies and our sins, +Here honest Nature ends as she begins. + +Old politicians chew on wisdom past, +And totter on in business to the last; +As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out, 230 +As sober Lanesborough[10] dancing in the gout. + +Behold a reverend sire, whom want of grace +Has made the father of a nameless race, +Shoved from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd +By his own son, that passes by unbless'd: +Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees, +And envies every sparrow that he sees. + +A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; +The doctor call'd, declares all help too late: +'Mercy!' cries Helluo, 'mercy on my soul! 240 +Is there no hope? Alas! then bring the jowl.' + +The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend, +Still tries to save the hallow'd taper's end, +Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, +For one puff more, and in that puff expires. + +'Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke,' +(Were the last words that poor Narcissa[11] spoke), +'No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace +Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: +One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead-- 250 +And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.' + +The courtier smooth, who forty years had shined +An humble servant to all human kind, +Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir, +'If--where I'm going--I could serve you, sir?' + +'I give and I devise' (old Euclio said, +And sigh'd) 'my lands and tenements to Ned.' +'Your money, sir?' 'My money, sir, what! all? +Why--if I must'--(then wept)--'I give it Paul.' +'The manor, sir?'--'The manor! hold,' (he cried), 260 +'Not that--I cannot part with that'--and died. + +And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath +Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death: +Such in those moments as in all the past, + +'Oh, save my country, Heaven!' shall be your last. + + +VARIATIONS. + +After VER. 86, in the former editions-- + +Triumphant leaders, at an army's head, +Hemm'd round with glories, pilfer cloth or bread: +As meanly plunder as they bravely fought, +Now save a people, and now save a groat. + +VER. 129, in the former editions-- + +Ask why from Britain Caesar made retreat? +Caesar himself would tell you he was beat. +The mighty Czar what moved to wed a punk? +The mighty Czar would tell you he was drunk. + +In the former editions, VER. 208-- + +Nature well known, no _miracles_ remain. + + + +EPISTLE II.--TO A LADY. + +OF THE CHARACTERS OF WOMEN. + +Nothing so true as what you once let fall-- +'Most women have no characters at all.' +Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, +And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair. + +How many pictures of one nymph we view, +All how unlike each other, all how true! +Arcadia's Countess, here, in ermined pride, +Is there, Pastora by a fountain side. +Here Fannia, leering on her own good man, +And there, a naked Leda with a swan. 10 +Let then the fair one beautifully cry, +In Magdalen's loose hair and lifted eye, +Or dress'd in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine, +With simpering angels, palms, and harps divine; +Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it, +If folly grow romantic, I must paint it. + +Come then, the colours and the ground prepare! +Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air; +Choose a firm cloud, before it fall, and in it +Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20 + +Rufa, whose eye quick glancing o'er the park, +Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark, +Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke, +As Sappho's[12] diamonds with her dirty smock; +Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task, +With Sappho fragrant at an evening mask: +So morning insects that in muck begun, +Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the setting sun. + +How soft is Silia! fearful to offend; +The frail one's advocate, the weak one's friend: 30 +To her, Calista proved her conduct nice; +And good Simplicius asks of her advice. +Sudden, she storms! she raves! You tip the wink, +But spare your censure--Silia does not drink. +All eyes may see from what the change arose, +All eyes may see--a pimple on her nose. + +Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark, +Sighs for the shades--'How charming is a park!' +A park is purchased, but the fair he sees +All bathed in tears--'Oh odious, odious trees!' 40 + +Ladies, like variegated tulips, show, +'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe; +Fine by defect, and delicately weak, +Their happy spots the nice admirer take. +'Twas thus Calypso once each heart alarm'd, +Awed without virtue, without beauty charm'd; +Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her eyes, +Less wit than mimic, more a wit than wise; +Strange graces still, and stranger flights she had, +Was just not ugly, and was just not mad; 50 +Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create, +As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate. + +Narcissa's[13] nature, tolerably mild, +To make a wash, would hardly stew a child; +Has even been proved to grant a lover's prayer, +And paid a tradesman once, to make him stare; +Gave alms at Easter, in a Christian trim, +And made a widow happy, for a whim. +Why then declare good-nature is her scorn, +When 'tis by that alone she can be borne 60 +Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name? +A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame: +Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, +Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres: +Now conscience chills her, and now passion burns; +And atheism and religion take their turns; +A very heathen in the carnal part, +Yet still a sad, good Christian at her heart. + +See Sin in state, majestically drunk; +Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk; 70 +Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, +A teeming mistress, but a barren bride. +What then? let blood and body bear the fault, +Her head's untouch'd, that noble seat of thought: +Such this day's doctrine--in another fit +She sins with poets through pure love of wit. +What has not fired her bosom or her brain-- +Caesar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemagne? +As Helluo, late dictator of the feast, +The nose of _haut gout_, and the tip of taste, 80 +Critiqued your wine, and analysed your meat, +Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat; +So Philomede,[14] lecturing all mankind +On the soft passion and the taste refined, +The address, the delicacy--stoops at once, +And makes her hearty meal upon a dunce. + +Flavia's a wit, has too much sense to pray; +To toast our wants and wishes, is her way; +Nor asks of God, but of her stars, to give +The mighty blessing, 'While we live, to live.' 90 +Then all for death, that opiate of the soul! +Lucretia's dagger, Rosamonda's bowl. +Say, what can cause such impotence of mind? +A spark too fickle, or a spouse too kind. + +Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please; +With too much spirit to be e'er at ease; +With too much quickness ever to be taught; +With too much thinking to have common thought: +You purchase pain with all that joy can give, +And die of nothing, but a rage to live. 100 + +Turn then from wits; and look on Simo's mate, +No ass so meek, no ass so obstinate. +Or her, that owns her faults, but never mends, +Because she's honest, and the best of friends. +Or her, whose life the church and scandal share, +For ever in a passion or a prayer. +Or her, who laughs at hell, but (like her Grace[15]) +Cries, 'Ah! how charming, if there's no such place!' +Or who in sweet vicissitude appears +Of mirth and opium, ratafia and tears, 110 +The daily anodyne, and nightly draught, +To kill those foes to fair ones--time and thought. +Woman and fool are two hard things to hit; +For true no-meaning puzzles more than wit. + +But what are these to great Atossa's[16] mind? +Scarce once herself, by turns all womankind! +Who, with herself, or others, from her birth +Finds all her life one warfare upon earth: +Shines, in exposing knaves, and painting fools, +Yet is whate'er she hates and ridicules. 120 +No thought advances, but her eddy brain +Whisks it about, and down it goes again. +Full sixty years the world has been her trade, +The wisest fool much time has ever made. +From loveless youth to uninspected age, +No passion gratified, except her rage. +So much the fury still outran the wit, +The pleasure miss'd her, and the scandal hit. +Who breaks with her, provokes revenge from hell, +But he's a bolder man who dares be well. 130 +Her every turn with violence pursued, +Nor more a storm her hate than gratitude: +To that each passion turns, or soon or late; +Love, if it makes her yield, must make her hate: +Superiors? death! and equals? what a curse! +But an inferior not dependent? worse! +Offend her, and she knows not to forgive: +Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live: +But die, and she'll adore you--then the bust +And temple rise--then fall again to dust. 140 +Last night, her lord was all that's good and great: +A knave this morning, and his will a cheat. +Strange! by the means defeated of the ends, +By spirit robb'd of power, by warmth of friends, +By wealth of followers! without one distress, +Sick of herself through very selfishness! +Atossa, cursed with every granted prayer, +Childless with all her children, wants an heir. +To heirs unknown descends the unguarded store, +Or wanders, Heaven-directed, to the poor. 150 + +Pictures like these, dear Madam, to design, +Asks no firm hand, and no unerring line; +Some wandering touches, some reflected light, +Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right: +For how should equal colours do the knack? +Chameleons who can paint in white and black? + +'Yet Chloe, sure, was form'd without a spot'-- +Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. +'With every pleasing, every prudent part, +Say, what can Chloe[17] want?'--She wants a heart. 160 +She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought; +But never, never reach'd one generous thought. +Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, +Content to dwell in decencies for ever. +So very reasonable, so unmoved, +As never yet to love, or to be loved. +She, while her lover pants upon her breast, +Can mark the figures on an Indian chest; +And when she sees her friend in deep despair, +Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair. 170 +Forbid it, Heaven! a favour or a debt +She e'er should cancel--but she may forget. +Safe is your secret still in Chloe's ear; +But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear. +Of all her dears she never slander'd one, +But cares not if a thousand are undone. +Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead? +She bids her footman put it in her head. +Chloe is prudent--would you, too, be wise? +Then never break your heart when Chloe dies. 180 + +One certain portrait may (I grant) be seen, +Which Heaven has varnish'd out, and made a queen: +The same for ever! and described by all +With truth and goodness, as with crown and ball. +Poets heap virtues, painters gems at will, +And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill. +'Tis well--but, artists! who can paint or write, +To draw the naked is your true delight. +That robe of quality so struts and swells, +None see what parts of nature it conceals: 190 +The exactest traits of body or of mind, +We owe to models of an humble kind. +If Queensberry to strip there's no compelling, +'Tis from a handmaid we must take an Helen +From peer or bishop 'tis no easy thing +To draw the man who loves his God, or king: +Alas! I copy (or my draught would fail) +From honest Mahomet[18], or plain Parson Hale.[19] + +But grant, in public men sometimes are shown, +A woman's seen in private life alone: 200 +Our bolder talents in full light display'd; +Your virtues open fairest in the shade. +Bred to disguise, in public 'tis you hide; +There, none distinguish 'twixt your shame or pride, +Weakness or delicacy; all so nice, +That each may seem a virtue, or a vice. + +In men, we various ruling passions find; +In women, two almost divide the kind; +Those, only fix'd, they first or last obey, +The love of pleasure, and the love of sway. 210 + +That, Nature gives; and where the lesson taught +Is but to please, can pleasure seem a fault? +Experience, this; by man's oppression curst, +They seek the second not to lose the first. + +Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; +But every woman is at heart a rake: +Men, some to quiet, some to public strife; +But every lady would be queen for life. + +Yet mark the fate of a whole sex of queens! +Power all their end, but beauty all the means: 220 +In youth they conquer, with so wild a rage, +As leaves them scarce a subject in their age: +For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam; +No thought of peace or happiness at home. +But wisdom's triumph is well-timed retreat, +As hard a science to the fair as great! +Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless grown, +Yet hate repose, and dread to be alone, +Worn out in public, weary every eye, +Nor leave one sigh behind them when they die. 230 + +Pleasure the sex, as children birds, pursue, +Still out of reach, yet never out of view; +Sure, if they catch, to spoil the toy at most, +To covet flying, and regret when lost: +At last, to follies youth could scarce defend, +It grows their age's prudence to pretend; +Ashamed to own they gave delight before, +Reduced to feign it, when they give no more: +As hags hold Sabbaths, less for joy than spite, +So these their merry, miserable night; 240 +Still round and round the ghosts of beauty glide, +And haunt the places where their honour died. + +See how the world its veterans rewards! +A youth of frolics, an old age of cards; +Fair to no purpose, artful to no end, +Young without lovers, old without a friend; +A fop their passion, but their prize a sot, +Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot! + +Ah, friend! to dazzle let the vain design; +To raise the thought, and touch the heart, be thine! 250 +That charm shall grow, while what fatigues the ring, +Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing: +So when the sun's broad beam has tired the sight, +All mild ascends the moon's more sober light, +Serene in virgin modesty she shines, +And unobserved the glaring orb declines. + +Oh! bless'd with temper, whose unclouded ray +Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day; +She, who can love a sister's charms, or hear +Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear; 260 +She, who ne'er answers till a husband cools, +Or, if she rales him, never shows she rules; +Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, +Yet has her humour most when she obeys; +Let fops or fortune fly which way they will; +Disdains all loss of tickets, or codille; +Spleen, vapours, or small-pox, above them all, +And mistress of herself though China fall. + +And yet, believe me, good as well as ill, +Woman's at best a contradiction still. 270 +Heaven, when it strives to polish all it can +Its last, best work, but forms a softer man; +Picks from each sex, to make the favourite blest, +Your love of pleasure or desire of rest: +Blends, in exception to all general rules, +Your taste of follies, with our scorn of fools: +Reserve with frankness, art with truth allied, +Courage with softness, modesty with pride; +Fix'd principles, with fancy ever new; +Shakes all together, and produces--you. 280 + +Be this a woman's fame: with this unbless'd, +Toasts live a scorn, and queens may die a jest. +This Phoebus promised (I forget the year) +When those blue eyes first open'd on the sphere; +Ascendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care, +Averted half your parents' simple prayer; +And gave you beauty, but denied the pelf +That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself. +The generous god, who wit and gold refines, +And ripens spirits as he ripens mines, 290 +Kept dross for duchesses, the world shall know it, +To you gave sense, good-humour, and a poet. + + +VARIATIONS. + +VER. 77 in the MS.-- + +In whose mad brain the mix'd ideas roll +Of Tall-toy's breeches, and of Caesar's soul. + +After VER. 122 in the MS.-- + +Oppress'd with wealth and wit, abundance sad! +One makes her poor, the other makes her mad. + +After VER. 148 in the MS.-- + +This Death decides, nor lets the blessing fall +On any one she hates, but on them all. +Cursed chance! this only could afflict her more, +If any part should wander to the poor. + +After VER. 198 in the MS.-- + +Fain I'd in Fulvia spy the tender wife; +I cannot prove it on her, for my life: +And, for a noble pride, I blush no less, +Instead of Berenice, to think on Bess. +Thus while immortal Gibber only sings +(As ----- and H---y preach) for queens and kings, +The nymph that ne'er read Milton's mighty line, +May, if she love, and merit verse, have mine + +VER. 207 in the first edition-- + +In several men we several passions find; +In women, two almost divide the kind. + + +EPISTLE III.[20]--TO ALLEN LORD BATHURST. + +ARGUMENT. + +OF THE USE OF RICHES. + +That it is known to few, most falling into one of the extremes, avarice +or profusion, ver. 1., &c. The point discussed, whether the invention of +money has been more commodious, or pernicious to mankind, ver. 21 to 77. +That riches, either to the avaricious or the prodigal, cannot afford +happiness, scarcely necessaries, ver. 89 to 160. That avarice is an +absolute frenzy, without an end or purpose, ver. 113 to 152. Conjectures +about the motives of avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct +of men, with respect to riches, can only be accounted for by the order +of Providence, which works the general good out of extremes, and brings +all to its great end by perpetual revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a +miser acts upon principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. 179. How +a prodigal does the same, ver. l99. The due medium, and true use of +riches, ver. 219. The Man of Ross, ver. 250. The fate of the profuse and +the covetous, in two examples; both miserable in life and in death, ver. +300, &c. The story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end. + +_P_. Who shall decide, when doctors disagree, +And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me? +You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given, +That man was made the standing jest of Heaven; +And gold but sent to keep the fools in play, +For some to heap, and some to throw away. + +But I, who think more highly of our kind, +(And, surely, Heaven and I are of a mind) +Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound, +Deep hid the shining mischief under ground: 10 +But when, by man's audacious labour won, +Flamed forth this rival to its sire, the Sun, +Then careful Heaven supplied two sorts of men, +To squander these, and those to hide again. + +Like doctors thus, when much dispute has pass'd, +We find our tenets just the same at last. +Both fairly owning, riches, in effect, +No grace of Heaven or token of the elect; +Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, +To Ward,[21] to Waters, Chartres,[22] and the devil. 20 + +_B_. What nature wants, commodious gold bestows, +'Tis thus we eat the bread another sows. + +_P_. But how unequal it bestows, observe, +Tis thus we riot, while who sow it starve: +What nature wants (a phrase I much distrust) +Extends to luxury, extends to lust: +Useful, I grant, it serves what life requires, +But dreadful too, the dark assassin hires: + +_B_. Trade it may help, society extend. + +_P_. But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend. 30 + +_B_. It raises armies in a nation's aid. + +_P_. But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd. +In vain may heroes fight, and patriots rave; +If secret gold sap on from knave to knave. +Once, we confess, beneath the patriot's cloak,[23] +From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea spoke, +And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew, +'Old Cato is as great a rogue as you.' +Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! +That lends corruption lighter wings to fly! 40 +Gold imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things, +Can pocket states, can fetch or carry kings; +A single leaf shall waft an army o'er, +Or ship off senates[24] to a distant shore; +A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro +Our fates and fortunes, as the winds shall blow: +Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen, +And silent sells a king, or buys a queen, + +Oh! that such bulky bribes as all might see, +Still, as of old, encumber'd villainy! 50 +Could France or Rome divert our brave designs, +With all their brandies, or with all their wines? +What could they more than knights and squires confound, +Or water all the quorum ten miles round? +A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil! +'Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil; +Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door; +A hundred oxen at your levee roar.' + +Poor avarice one torment more would find; +Nor could profusion squander all in kind. 60 +Astride his cheese, Sir Morgan might we meet; +And Worldly crying coals[25] from street to street, +Whom, with a wig so wild, and mien so mazed, +Pity mistakes for some poor tradesman crazed. +Had Colepepper's[26] whole wealth been hops and hogs, +Could he himself have sent it to the dogs? +His Grace will game: to White's a bull be led, +With spurning heels, and with a butting head: +To White's be carried, as to ancient games, +Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames. 70 +Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep, +Bear home six whores and make his lady weep? +Or soft Adonis, so perfumed and fine, +Drive to St James's a whole herd of swine? +Oh filthy check on all industrious skill, +To spoil the nation's last great trade--quadrille? +Since then, my lord, on such a world we fall, +What say you? + +_B_. Say! Why, take it, gold and all. + +_P_. What riches give us, let us then inquire: +Meat, fire, and clothes. + +_B_. What more? + +_P_. Meat, clothes, and fire. 80 +Is this too little? would you more than live? +Alas! 'tis more than Turner[27] finds they give. +Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions past) +Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last! +What can they give? to dying Hopkins,[28] heirs; +To Chartres, vigour; Japhet,[29] nose and ears? +Can they in gems bid pallid Hippia glow, +In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below; +Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail, +With all the embroidery plaster'd at thy tail? 90 +They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend) +Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend; +Or find some doctor that would save the life +Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife: +But thousands die, without or this or that, +Die, and endow a college, or a cat.[30] +To some, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate, +T' enrich a bastard, or a son they hate. + +Perhaps you think the poor might have their part? +Bond[31] damns the poor, and hates them from his heart: 100 +The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule, +That 'every man in want is knave or fool:' +'God cannot love' (says Blunt, with tearless eyes) +'The wretch he starves'--and piously denies: +But the good bishop, with a meeker air, +Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care. + +Yet, to be just to these poor men of pelf, +Each does but hate his neighbour as himself: +Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides +The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides. 110 + +_B_. Who suffer thus, mere charity should own, +Must act on motives powerful, though unknown. + +_P_. Some war, some plague, or famine, they foresee, +Some revelation hid from you and me. +Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found, +He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound. +What made directors cheat in South-sea year? +To live on venison[32] when it sold so dear. +Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys? +Phryne foresees a general excise.[33] 120 +Why she and Sappho raise that monstrous sum? +Alas! they fear a man will cost a plum. + +Wise Peter[34] sees the world's respect for gold, +And therefore hopes this nation may be sold: +Glorious ambition! Peter, swell thy store, +And be what Rome's great Didius[35] was before. + +The crown of Poland, venal twice an age, +To just three millions stinted modest Gage. +But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold, +Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold. 130 +Congenial souls! whose life one avarice joins, +And one fate buries in the Asturian mines. + +Much-injured Blunt![36] why bears he Britain's hate? +A wizard told him in these words our fate: +'At length corruption, like a general flood, +(So long by watchful ministers withstood) +Shall deluge all; and avarice creeping on, +Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the sun, +Statesman and patriot ply alike the stocks, +Peeress and butler share alike the box, 140 +And judges job, and bishops bite the town, +And mighty dukes pack cards for half-a-crown. +See Britain sunk in lucre's sordid charms, +And France revenged of Anne's and Edward's arms!' +'Twas no court-badge, great scrivener! fired thy brain, +Nor lordly luxury, nor city gain: +No, 'twas thy righteous end, ashamed to see +Senates degenerate, patriots disagree, +And nobly wishing party-rage to cease, +To buy both sides, and give thy country peace. 150 + +'All this is madness,' cries a sober sage: +But who, my friend, has reason in his rage? +'The ruling passion, be it what it will, +The ruling passion conquers reason still.' +Less mad the wildest whimsy we can frame, +Than even that passion, if it has no aim; +For though such motives folly you may call, +The folly's greater to have none at all. + +Hear, then, the truth: ''Tis Heaven each passion sends, +And different men directs to different ends. 160 +Extremes in Nature equal good produce, +Extremes in man concur to general use.' +Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow? +That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow, +Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain, +Through reconciled extremes of drought and rain. +Builds life on death, on change duration founds, +And gives the eternal wheels to know their rounds. + +Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie, +Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 170 +Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, +Sees but a backward steward for the poor; +This year a reservoir, to keep and spare; +The next a fountain, spouting through his heir, +In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, +And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst. + +Old Cotta shamed his fortune and his birth, +Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth: +What though (the use of barbarous spits forgot) +His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot? 180 +His court with nettles, moats with cresses stored, +With soups unbought and salads bless'd his board? +If Cotta lived on pulse, it was no more +Than Brahmins, saints, and sages did before; +To cram the rich was prodigal expense, +And who would take the poor from Providence? +Like some lone Chartreux stands the good old Hall, +Silence without, and fasts within the wall; +No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound, +No noontide-bell invites the country round: 190 +Tenants with sighs the smokeless towers survey, +And turn the unwilling steeds another way: +Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er, +Curse the saved candle, and unopening door; +While the gaunt mastiff growling at the gate, +Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat. + +Not so his son; he mark'd this oversight, +And then mistook reverse of wrong for right. +(For what to shun will no great knowledge need, +But what to follow, is a task indeed). 200 +Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise, +More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise. +What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine, +Fill the capacious squire, and deep divine! +Yet no mean motive this profusion draws, +His oxen perish in his country's cause; +'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup, +And zeal for that great house which eats him up. +The woods recede around the naked seat, +The silvans groan--no matter--for the fleet; 210 +Next goes his wool--to clothe our valiant bands, +Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands. +To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, +And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a pope. +And shall not Britain now reward his toils, +Britain, that pays her patriots with her spoils? +In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his cause, +His thankless country leaves him to her laws. + +The sense to value riches, with the art +To enjoy them, and the virtue to impart, 220 +Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursued, +Not sunk by sloth, nor raised by servitude: +To balance fortune by a just expense, +Join with economy, magnificence; +With splendour, charity; with plenty, health; +Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by wealth! +That secret rare, between the extremes to move +Of mad good-nature and of mean self-love. + +_B_. To worth or want well-weigh'd, be bounty given, +And ease, or emulate, the care of Heaven; 230 +(Whose measure full o'erflows on human race) +Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace. +Wealth in the gross is death, but life, diffused; +As poison heals, in just proportion used: +In heaps, like ambergris, a stink it lies, +But well-dispersed, is incense to the skies. + +_P_. Who starves by nobles, or with nobles eats? +The wretch that trusts them, and the rogue that cheats. +Is there a lord, who knows a cheerful noon +Without a fiddler, flatterer, or buffoon? 240 +Whose table, wit, or modest merit share, +Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player? +Who copies yours, or Oxford's better part,[37] +To ease the oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart? +Where'er he shines, O Fortune! gild the scene, +And angels guard him in the golden mean! +There, English bounty yet awhile may stand, +And honour linger ere it leaves the land. + +But all our praises why should lords engross? +Rise, honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross:[38] 250 +Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, +And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. +Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? +From the dry rock who bade the waters flow? +Not to the skies in useless columns toss'd, +Or in proud falls magnificently lost, +But clear and artless pouring through the plain +Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. +Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows? +Whose seats the weary traveller repose? 260 +Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise? +'The Man of Ross,' each lisping babe replies. +Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread! +The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread: +He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state, +Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate: +Him portion'd maids, apprenticed orphans bless'd, +The young who labour, and the old who rest. +Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves, +Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes, and gives. 270 +Is there a variance? enter but his door, +Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. +Despairing quacks with curses fled the place, +And vile attorneys, now a useless race. + +_B_. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue +What all so wish, but want the power to do! +Oh say, what sums that generous hand supply? +What mines, to swell that boundless charity? + +_P_. Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, +This man possess'd--five hundred pounds a-year. 280 +Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud courts, withdraw your blaze! +Ye little stars, hide your diminish'd rays! + +_B_. And what? no monument, inscription, stone? +His race, his form, his name almost unknown? + +_P_. Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, +Will never mark the marble with his name: +Go, search it there,[39] where to be born and die, +Of rich and poor makes all the history; +Enough, that virtue fill'd the space between; +Proved, by the ends of being, to have been. 290 +When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend +The wretch who, living, saved a candle's end: +Shouldering God's altar a vile image stands, +Belies his features, nay, extends his hands; +That live-long wig which Gorgon's self might own, +Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.[40] +Behold what blessings wealth to life can lend! +And see what comfort it affords our end! + +In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, +The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, 300 +On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, +With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, +The George and Garter dangling from that bed +Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, +Great Villiers[41] lies--alas! how changed from him, +That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim! +Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove, +The bower of wanton Shrewsbury,[42] and love; +Or just as gay, at council, in a ring +Of mimick'd statesmen, and their merry king. 310 +No wit to flatter, left of all his store; +No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. +There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, +And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends. + +His Grace's fate sage Cutler[43] could foresee, +And well (he thought) advised him, 'Live like me.' +As well his Grace replied, 'Like you, Sir John? +That I can do, when all I have is gone.' +Resolve me, Reason, which of these is worse, +Want with a full, or with an empty purse? 320 +Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confess'd, +Arise, and tell me, was thy death more bless'd? +Cutler saw tenants break, and houses fall; +For very want he could not build a wall. +His only daughter in a stranger's power; +For very want he could not pay a dower. +A few gray hairs his reverend temples crown'd, +'Twas very want that sold them for two pound. +What even denied a cordial at his end, +Banish'd the doctor, and expell'd the friend? 330 +What but a want, which you perhaps think mad, +Yet numbers feel--the want of what he had! +Cutler and Brutus, dying, both exclaim, +'Virtue! and Wealth! what are ye but a name!' + +Say, for such worth are other worlds prepared +Or are they both in this their own reward? +A knotty point! to which we now proceed. +But you are tired--I'll tell a tale-- + +_B_. Agreed. + +_P_. Where London's column,[44] pointing at the skies +Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies; 340 +There dwelt a citizen of sober fame, +A plain good man, and Balaam was his name; +Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth; +His word would pass for more than he was worth. +One solid dish his week-day meal affords, +An added pudding solemnised the Lord's: +Constant at church, and 'Change; his gains were sure, +His givings rare, save farthings to the poor. + +The devil was piqued such saintship to behold, +And long'd to tempt him like good Job of old: 350 +But Satan now is wiser than of yore, +And tempts by making rich, not making poor. + +Roused by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds sweep +The surge, and plunge his father in the deep; +Then lull against his Cornish lands they roar, +And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky shore. + +Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, +He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes: +'Live like yourself,' was soon my Lady's word; +And, lo! two puddings smoked upon the board. 360 + +Asleep and naked as an Indian lay, +An honest factor stole a gem away: +He pledged it to the knight; the knight had wit, +So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit. +Some scruple rose, but thus he eased his thought-- +'I'll now give sixpence where I gave a groat; +Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice-- +And am so clear, too, of all other vice.' + +The Tempter saw his time; the work he plied; +Stocks and subscriptions pour on every side, 370 +Till all the demon makes his full descent +In one abundant shower of cent, per cent.; +Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole, +Then dubs director, and secures his soul. + +Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit, +Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit; +What late he call'd a blessing, now was wit, +And God's good providence, a lucky hit. +Things change their titles, as our manners turn: +His counting-house employ'd the Sunday-morn; 380 +Seldom at church ('twas such a busy life) +But duly sent his family and wife. +There (so the devil ordain'd) one Christmas-tide, +My good old lady catch'd a cold, and died. + +A nymph of quality admires our knight; +He marries, bows at court, and grows polite: +Leaves the dull cits, and joins (to please the fair) +The well-bred cuckolds in St James's air: +First, for his son a gay commission buys, +Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies: 390 +His daughter flaunts a viscount's tawdry wife; +She bears a coronet and pox for life. +In Britain's senate he a seat obtains, +And one more pensioner St Stephen gains. +My lady falls to play; so bad her chance, +He must repair it; takes a bribe from France; +The House impeach him; Coningsby harangues; +The court forsake him--and Sir Balaam hangs: +Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, +His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown: 400 +The devil and the king divide the prize, +And sad Sir Balaam curses God, and dies. + + +VARIATIONS. + +After VER. 50, in the MS.-- + +To break a trust were Peter bribed with wine, +Peter! 'twould pose as wise a head as thine. + +VER. 77, in the former edition-- + +Well then, since with the world we stand or fall, +Come, take it as we find it, gold and all. + +After VER. 218 in the MS.-- + +Where one lean herring furnish'd Cotta's board, +And nettles grew, fit porridge for their lord; +Where mad good-nature, bounty misapplied, +In lavish Curio blazed awhile and died; +There Providence once more shall shift the scene, +And showing H----y, teach the golden mean. + +After VER. 226, in the MS.-- + +That secret rare with affluence hardly join'd, +Which W----n lost, yet B----y ne'er could find; +Still miss'd by vice, and scarce by virtue hit, +By G----'s goodness, or by S----'s wit. + +After VER. 250 in the MS-- + +Trace humble worth beyond Sabrina's shore, +Who sings not him, oh, may he sing no more! + +VER. 287, thus in the MS.-- + +The register enrolls him with his poor, +Tells he was born and died, and tells no more. +Just as he ought, he fill'd the space between; +Then stole to rest, unheeded and unseen. + +VER. 337, in the former editions-- + +That knotty point, my lord, shall I discuss +Or tell a tale!--A tale.--It follows thus. + + +EPISTLE IV.--TO RICHARD BOYLE, EARL OF BURLINGTON. + +ARGUMENT. + +OF THE USE OF RICHES. + +The vanity of expense in people of wealth and quality. The abuse of the +word 'taste,' ver. 13. That the first principle and foundation, in this +as in every thing else, is good sense, ver. 40. The chief proof of it is +to follow nature, even in works of mere luxury and elegance. Instanced +in architecture and gardening, where all must be adapted to the genius +and use of the place, and the beauties not forced into it, but resulting +from it, ver. 50. How men are disappointed in their most expensive +undertakings, for want of this true foundation, without which nothing +can please long, if at all; and the best examples and rules will but be +perverted into something burdensome or ridiculous, ver. 65 to 92. A +description of the false taste of magnificence; the first grand error of +which is to imagine that greatness consists in the size and dimension, +instead of the proportion and harmony of the whole, ver. 97; and the +second, either in joining together parts incoherent, or too minutely +resembling, or in the repetition of the same too frequently, ver. 105, +&c. A word or two of false taste in books, in music, in painting, even +in preaching and prayer, and lastly in entertainments, ver. 133, &c. Yet +Providence is justified in giving wealth to be squandered in this +manner, since it is dispersed to the poor and laborious part of mankind, +ver. 169 [recurring to what is laid down in the 'Essay on Man,' ep. ii. +and in the epistle preceding this, ver. 159, &c.] What are the proper +objects of magnificence, and a proper field for the expense of great +men, ver. 177, &c.; and finally, the great and public works which become +a prince, ver. 191, to the end. + + +'Tis strange, the miser should his cares employ +To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy: +Is it less strange, the prodigal should waste +His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste? +Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats; +Artists must choose his pictures, music, meats; +He buys for Topham[45] drawings and designs, +For Pembroke statues, dirty gods, and coins; +Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne[46] alone, +And books for Mead, and butterflies for Sloane. 10 +Think we all these are for himself? no more +Than his fine wife, alas! or finer whore. + +For what has Virro painted, built, and planted? +Only to show how many tastes he wanted. +What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste? +Some demon whisper'd, 'Visto! have a taste.' +Heaven visits with a taste the wealthy fool, +And needs no rod but Ripley[47] with a rule. +See! sportive fate, to punish awkward pride, +Bids Bubo[48] build, and sends him such a guide: 20 +A standing sermon, at each year's expense, +That never coxcomb reach'd magnificence! + +You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse, +And pompous buildings once were things of use. +Yet shall (my lord) your just, your noble rules +Fill half the land with imitating fools, +Who random drawings from your sheets shall take, +And of one beauty many blunders make; +Load some vain church with old theatric state, +Turn arcs of triumph to a garden-gate; 30 +Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all +On some patch'd dog-hole eked with ends of wall; +Then clap four slices of pilaster on't, +That, laced with bits of rustic, makes a front. +Shall call the winds through long arcades to roar, +Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door; +Conscious they act a true Palladian part. +And if they starve, they starve by rules of art. + +Oft have you hinted to your brother peer, +A certain truth, which many buy too dear: 40 +Something there is more needful than expense, +And something previous even to taste--'tis sense: +Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven, +And though no science, fairly worth the seven: +A light, which in yourself you must perceive; +Jones and Le Notre have it not to give. + +To build, to plant, whatever you intend, +To rear the column, or the arch to bend, +To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot; +In all, let Nature never be forgot. 50 +But treat the goddess like a modest fair, +Nor overdress, nor leave her wholly bare; +Let not each beauty everywhere be spied, +Where half the skill is decently to hide. +He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds, +Surprises, varies, and conceals the bounds. + +Consult the genius of the place in all; +That tells the waters or to rise, or fall; +Or helps the ambitious hill the heavens to scale, +Or scoops in circling theatres the vale; 60 +Calls in the country, catches opening glades, +Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades; +Now breaks, or now directs, the intending lines; +Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs. + +Still follow sense, of every art the soul, +Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole, +Spontaneous beauties all around advance, +Start even from difficulty, strike from chance; +Nature shall join you; time shall make it grow +A work to wonder at--perhaps a Stowe. 70 + +Without it, proud Versailles! thy glory falls; +And Nero's terraces desert their walls: +The vast parterres a thousand hands shall make, +Lo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake: +Or cut wide views through mountains to the plain, +You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat again. +Even in an ornament its place remark, +Nor in an hermitage set Dr Clarke.[49] +Behold Villario's ten years' toil complete; +His quincunx darkens, his espaliers meet; 80 +The wood supports the plain, the parts unite, +And strength of shade contends with strength of light; +A waving glow the blooming beds display, +Blushing in bright diversities of day, +With silver-quivering rills meander'd o'er-- +Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more; +Tired of the scene parterres and fountains yield, +He finds at last he better likes a field. + +Through his young woods how pleased Sabinus stray'd, +Or sat delighted in the thickening shade, 90 +With annual joy the reddening shoots to greet, +Or see the stretching branches long to meet! +His son's fine taste an opener vista loves, +Foe to the Dryads of his father's groves; +One boundless green, or flourish'd carpet views, +With all the mournful family of yews; +The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks made, +Now sweep those alleys they were born to shade. + +At Timon's villa[50] let us pass a day, +Where all cry out, 'What sums are thrown away!' 100 +So proud, so grand; of that stupendous air, +Soft and agreeable come never there. +Greatness, with Timon, dwells in such a draught +As brings all Brobdignag before your thought. +To compass this, his building is a town, +His pond an ocean, his parterre a down: +Who but must laugh, the master when he sees, +A puny insect, shivering at a breeze! +Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around! +The whole a labour'd quarry above ground; 110 +Two Cupids squirt before: a lake behind +Improves the keenness of the northern wind. +His gardens next your admiration call, +On every side you look, behold the wall! +No pleasing intricacies intervene, +No artful wildness to perplex the scene; +Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, +And half the platform just reflects the other. +The suffering eye inverted nature sees, +Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees; 120 +With here a fountain, never to be play'd; +And there a summer-house, that knows no shade; +Here Amphitrite sails through myrtle bowers; +There gladiators fight, or die in flowers; +Unwater'd see the drooping sea-horse mourn, +And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urn. + +My lord advances with majestic mien, +Smit with the mighty pleasure, to be seen: +But soft--by regular approach--not yet-- +First through the length of yon hot terrace sweat; 130 +And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighs, +Just at his study-door he'll bless your eyes. + +His study! with what authors is it stored? +In books, not authors, curious is my lord; +To all their dated backs he turns you round: +These Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has bound. +Lo! some are vellum, and the rest as good +For all his lordship knows, but they are wood. +For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to look, 140 +These shelves admit not any modern book. + +And now the chapel's silver bell you hear, +That summons you to all the pride of prayer: +Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, +Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven. +On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, +Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre,[51] +On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, +And bring all Paradise before your eye. +To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, +Who never mentions hell[51] to ears polite. 150 + +But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call; +A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall: +The rich buffet well-colour'd serpents grace, +And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face. +Is this a dinner? this a genial room? +No, 'tis a temple, and a hecatomb. +A solemn sacrifice, perform'd in state, +You drink by measure, and to minutes eat. +So quick retires each flying course, you'd swear +Sancho's dread doctor[53] and his wand were there. 160 +Between each act the trembling salvers ring, +From soup to sweet-vine, and God bless the king. +In plenty starving, tantalised in state, +And complaisantly help'd to all I hate, +Treated, caress'd, and tired, I take my leave, +Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve; +I curse such lavish cost, and little skill, +And swear no day was ever pass'd so ill. + +Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hungry fed; +Health to himself, and to his infants bread 170 +The labourer bears: what his hard heart denies, +His charitable vanity supplies. + +Another age shall see the golden ear +Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre, +Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd, +And laughing Ceres reassume the land. + +Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil?-- +Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle. +'Tis use alone that sanctifies expense, +And splendour borrows all her rays from sense. 180 + +His father's acres who enjoys in peace, +Or makes his neighbours glad, if he increase: +Whose cheerful tenants bless their yearly toil, +Yet to their lord owe more than to the soil; +Whose ample lawns are not ashamed to feed +The milky heifer and deserving steed; +Whose rising forests, not for pride or show, +But future buildings, future navies, grow: +Let his plantations stretch from down to down, +First shade a country, and then raise a town. 190 + +You, too, proceed! make falling arts your care, +Erect new wonders, and the old repair; +Jones and Palladio to themselves restore, +And be whate'er Vitruvius was before: +Till kings call forth the ideas of your mind, +(Proud to accomplish what such hands design'd.) +Bid harbours open, public ways extend, +Bid temples, worthier of the god, ascend; +Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain, +The mole projected break the roaring main; 200 +Back to his bonds their subject sea command, +And roll obedient rivers through the land; +These honours, peace to happy Britain brings, +These are imperial works, and worthy kings. + + +VARIATION. + +After VER. 22 in the MS.-- + +Must bishops, lawyers, statesmen have the skill +To build, to plant, judge paintings, what you will? +Then why not Kent as well our treaties draw, +Bridginan explain the gospel, Gibs the law? + + +EPISTLE V. TO MR ADDISON. + +OCCASIONED BY HIS DIALOGUES ON MEDALS.[54] + +See the wild waste of all-devouring years! +How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears, +With nodding arches, broken temples spread! +The very tombs now vanish'd, like their dead! +Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil'd +Where mix'd with slaves the groaning martyr toil'd: +Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, +Now drain'd a distant country of her floods: +Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey, +Statues of men, scarce less alive than they! 10 +Some felt the silent stroke of mouldering age, +Some hostile fury, some religious rage, +Barbarian blindness, Christian zeal conspire, +And Papal piety, and Gothic fire. +Perhaps, by its own ruins saved from flame, +Some buried marble half-preserves a name; +That name the learn'd with fierce disputes pursue, +And give to Titus old Vespasian's due. + +Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to trust +The faithless column, and the crumbling bust: 20 +Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore, +Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more! +Convinced, she now contracts her vast design, +And all her triumphs shrink into a coin. +A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps, +Beneath her palm, here sad Judaea weeps. +Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, +And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine; +A small Euphrates through the piece is roll'd, +And little eagles wave their wings in gold. 30 + +The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, +Through climes and ages bears each form and name: +In one short view subjected to our eye +Gods, emperors, heroes, sages, beauties, lie. +With sharpen'd sight, pale antiquaries pore, +The inscription value, but the rust adore. +This the blue varnish, that the green endears, +The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years! +To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes, +One grasps a Cecrops in ecstatic dreams. 40 +Poor Vadius,[55] long with learned spleen devour'd. +Can taste no pleasure since his shield was scour'd: +And Curio, restless by the fair one's side, +Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride. + +Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine: +Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine; +Her gods, and god-like heroes rise to view, +And all her faded garlands bloom anew. +Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage; +These pleased the fathers of poetic rage; 50 +The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, +And Art reflected images to Art. + +Oh! when shall Britain, conscious of her claim, +Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame? +In living medals see her wars enroll'd, +And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold? +Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face; +There, warriors frowning in historic brass: +Then future ages with delight shall see +How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree; 60 +Or in fair series laurell'd bards be shown, +A Virgil there, and here an Addison. +Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine) +On the cast ore, another Pollio, shine; +With aspect open, shall erect his head, +And round the orb in lasting notes be read, +'Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, +In action faithful, and in honour clear; +Who broke no promise, served no private end, +Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; 70 +Ennobled by himself, by all approved, +And praised, unenvied, by the Muse he loved.' + + + + +TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. + +SAPPHO TO PHAON. + +FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID'S EPISTLES. + +Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, +Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? +Must then her name the wretched writer prove, +To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love? +Ask not the cause that I new numbers choose, +The lute neglected and the lyric Muse; +Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow, +And tuned my heart to elegies of woe, +I burn, I burn, as when through ripen'd corn +By driving winds the spreading flames are borne! 10 +Phaon to AEtna's scorching fields retires, +While I consume with more than AEtna's fires! +No more my soul a charm in music finds; +Music has charms alone for peaceful minds. +Soft scenes of solitude no more can please; +Love enters there, and I'm my own disease. +No more the Lesbian dames my passion move, +Once the dear objects of my guilty love; +All other loves are lost in only thine, +Ah, youth ungrateful to a flame like mine! 20 +Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise, +Those heavenly looks, and dear deluding eyes! +The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear, +A brighter Phoebus Phaon might appear; +Would you with ivy wreath your flowing hair, +Not Bacchus' self with Phaon could compare: +Yet Phoebus loved, and Bacchus felt the flame, +One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan dame; +Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me, +Than e'en those gods contend in charms with thee. 30 +The Muses teach me all their softest lays, +And the wide world resounds with Sappho's praise. +Though great Alcaeus more sublimely sings, +And strikes with bolder rage the sounding strings, +No less renown attends the moving lyre, +Which Venus tunes, and all her loves inspire. +To me what nature has in charms denied, +Is well by wit's more lasting flames supplied. +Though short my stature, yet my name extends +To heaven itself, and earth's remotest ends. 40 +Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame +Inspired young Perseus with a generous flame; +Turtles and doves of different hues unite, +And glossy jet is pair'd with shining white. +If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign, +But such as merit, such as equal thine, +By none, alas! by none thou canst be moved, +Phaon alone by Phaon must be loved! +Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ, +Once in her arms you centred all your joy: 50 +No time the dear remembrance can remove, +For, oh! how vast a memory has love! +My music, then, you could for ever hear, +And all my words were music to your ear. +You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting tongue, +And found my kisses sweeter than my song, +In all I pleased, but most in what was best; +And the last joy was dearer than the rest. +Then with each word, each glance, each motion fired, +You still enjoy'd, and yet you still desired, 60 +Till, all dissolving, in the trance we lay, +And in tumultuous raptures died away. +The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame; +Why was I born, ye gods, a Lesbian dame? +But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast +That wandering heart which I so lately lost; +Nor be with all those tempting words abused, +Those tempting words were all to Sappho used. +And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains, +Have pity, Venus, on your poet's pains! 70 +Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run, +And still increase the woes so soon begun? +Inured to sorrow from my tender years, +My parents' ashes drank my early tears: +My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame, +Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame: +An infant daughter late my griefs increased, +And all a mother's cares distract my breast, +Alas! what more could Fate itself impose, +But thee, the last, and greatest of my woes? 80 +No more my robes in waving purple flow, +Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow; +No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse +The costly sweetness of Arabian dews, +Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind, +That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind: +For whom should Sappho use such arts as these? +He's gone, whom only she desired to please! +Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move; +Still is there cause for Sappho still to love: 90 +So from my birth the Sisters fix'd my doom, +And gave to Venus all my life to come; +Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains, +My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains. +By charms like thine, which all my soul have won, +Who might not--ah! who would not be undone? +For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn, +And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn. +For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep; +And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep; 100 +Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies; +But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes. +Oh scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy! +Oh useful time for lovers to employ! +Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race, +Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace! +The vows you never will return, receive; +And take, at least, the love you will not give. +See, while I write, my words are lost in tears! +The less my sense, the more my love appears. 110 +Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind adieu, +(At least to feign was never hard to you) +'Farewell, my Lesbian love,' you might have said; +Or coldly thus, 'Farewell, O Lesbian maid!' +No tear did you, no parting kiss receive, +Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve. +No lover's gift your Sappho could confer, +And wrongs and woes were all you left with her. +No charge I gave you, and no charge could give, +But this, 'Be mindful of our loves, and live.' 120 +Now by the Nine, those powers adored by me, +And Love, the god that ever waits on thee, +When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew) +That you were fled, and all my joys with you, +Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood, +Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd my freezing blood; +No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow, +Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe: +But when its way the impetuous passion found, +I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound: 130 +I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain; +Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again. +Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame, +Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral flame. +My scornful brother with a smile appears, +Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears; +His hated image ever haunts my eyes; +'And why this grief? thy daughter lives!' he cries. +Stung with my love, and furious with despair, +All torn my garments, and my bosom bare, 140 +My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim; +Such inconsistent things are love and shame! +'Tis thou art all my care and my delight, +My daily longing, and my dream by night; +Oh night more pleasing than the brightest day, +When fancy gives what absence takes away, +And, dress'd in all its visionary charms, +Restores my fair deserter to my arms! +Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine, +Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine: 150 +A thousand tender words I hear and speak; +A thousand melting kisses give and take: +Then fiercer joys, I blush to mention these, +Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please. +But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly, +And all things wake to life and joy but I, +As if once more forsaken, I complain, +And close my eyes to dream of you again: +Then frantic rise, and like some Fury rove +Through lonely plains, and through the silent grove; 160 +As if the silent grove, and lonely plains, +That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains. +I view the grotto, once the scene of love, +The rocks around, the hanging roofs above, +That charm'd me more, with native moss o'ergrown, +Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone; +I find the shades that veil'd our joys before; +But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more. +Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray +Where oft entwined in amorous folds we lay; 170 +I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you, +And all with tears the withering herbs bedew. +For thee the fading trees appear to mourn, +And birds defer their songs till thy return: +Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, +All but the mournful Philomel and I: +With mournful Philomel I join my strain, +Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain. + +A spring there is, whose silver waters show, +Clear as a glass, the shining sands below: 180 +A flowery lotus spreads its arms above, +Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove; +Eternal greens the mossy margin grace, +Watch'd by the sylvan genius of the place. +Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood, +Before my sight a watery virgin stood: +She stood and cried, 'O you that love in vain! +Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main; +There stands a rock, from whose impending steep +Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep; 190 +There injured lovers, leaping from above, +Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. +Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd, +In vain he loved, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd: +But when from hence he plunged into the main, +Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha loved in vain. +Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw +Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!' +She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice--I rise, +And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes. 200 +I go, ye nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove; +How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! +I go, ye nymphs! where furious love inspires: +Let female fears submit to female fires. +To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate, +And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. +Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, +And softly lay me on the waves below! +And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, +Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, 210 +Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood profane! +On Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow, +And this inscription shall be placed below: +'Here she who sung, to him that did inspire, +Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre; +What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee: +The gift, the giver, and the god agree.' + +But why, alas! relentless youth, ah, why +To distant seas must tender Sappho fly? +Thy charms than those may far more powerful be, 220 +And Phoebus' self is less a god to me. +Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea, +Oh far more faithless and more hard than they? +Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast +Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bosom press'd? +This breast which once, in vain, you liked so well; +Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses dwell. +Alas! the Muses now no more inspire; +Untuned my lute, and silent is my lyre. +My languid numbers have forgot to flow, 230 +And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe. +Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames, +Themes of my verse, and objects of my flames, +No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring, +No more these hands shall touch the trembling string: +My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign; +(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!) +Return, fair youth! return, and bring along +Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song: +Absent from thee, the poet's flame expires; 240 +But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires? +Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move +One savage heart, or teach it how to love? +The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bear, +The flying winds have lost them all in air! +Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales +To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails? +If you return--ah, why these long delays? +Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays. +Oh launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain; 250 +Venus for thee shall smooth her native main. +Oh launch thy bark, secure of prosperous gales; +Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails. +If you will fly--(yet ah! what cause can be, +Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?) +If not from Phaon I must hope for ease, +Ah, let me seek it from the raging seas: +To raging seas unpitied I'll remove, +And either cease to live, or cease to love! + + + +THE FABLE OF DRYOPE.[56] + +FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. + +She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs; +When the fair consort of her son replies: +'Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan, +And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own, +Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate +A nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate. +No nymph of all Oechalia could compare +For beauteous form with Dryope the fair, +Her tender mother's only hope and pride, +(Myself the offspring of a second bride). 10 +This nymph, compress'd by him who rules the day, +Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey, +Andraemon loved; and, bless'd in all those charms +That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms. + +'A lake there was with shelving banks around, +Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd. +These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought, +And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought: +Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she press'd +Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast. 20 +Not distant far, a watery lotus grows; +The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs, +Adorn'd with blossoms, promised fruits that vie +In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye: +Of these she cropp'd, to please her infant son, +And I myself the same rash act had done: +But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood) +The violated blossoms drop with blood; +Upon the tree I cast a frightful look; +The trembling tree with sudden horror shook. 30 +Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true) +As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew, +Forsook her form, and, fixing here, became +A flowery plant, which still preserves her name. + +'This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight, +My trembling sister strove to urge her flight; +And first the pardon of the nymphs implored, +And those offended sylvan powers adored: +But when she backward would have fled, she found +Her stiffening feet were rooted in the ground: 40 +In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove, +And as she struggles only moves above; +She feels th' encroaching bark around her grow +By quick degrees, and cover all below: +Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves +To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves: +Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen +To rise, and shade her with a sudden green. +The child Amphissus, to her bosom press'd, +Perceived a colder and a harder breast, 50 +And found the springs, that ne'er till then denied +Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried. +I saw, unhappy! what I now relate, +And stood the helpless witness of thy fate; +Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd, +There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade. + +'Behold Andraemon and th' unhappy sire +Appear, and for their Dryope inquire: +A springing tree for Dryope they find, +And print warm kisses on the panting rind, 60 +Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew, +And close embrace as to the roots they grew. +The face was all that now remain'd of thee, +No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree; +Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear, +From every leaf distils a trickling tear; +And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains, +Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs complains: + +'"If to the wretched any faith be given, +I swear by all th' unpitying powers of Heaven, 70 +No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred; +In mutual innocence our lives we led: +If this be false, let these new greens decay, +Let sounding axes lop my limbs away, +And crackling flames on all my honours prey. +But from my branching arms this infant bear, +Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care: +And to his mother let him oft be led, +Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed: +Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame 80 +Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name, +To hail this tree, and say, with weeping eyes, +'Within this plant my hapless parent lies:' +And when in youth he seeks the shady woods, +Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods, +Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn'd by me, +Believe a goddess shrined in every tree. +My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell! +If in your breasts or love or pity dwell, +Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel 90 +The browsing cattle or the piercing steel. +Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join +My lips to yours, advance at least to mine. +My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive, +While yet thy mother has a kiss to give. +I can no more; the creeping rind invades +My closing lips, and hides my head in shades: +Remove your hands, the bark shall soon suffice +Without their aid to seal these dying eyes." + +'She ceased at once to speak and ceased to be, 100 +And all the nymph was lost within the tree; +Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd, +And long the plant a human heat retain'd.' + + + +VERTUMNUS AND POMONA, + +FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. + +The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign; +Of all the virgins of the sylvan train +None taught the trees a nobler race to bear, +Or more improved the vegetable care. +To her the shady grove, the flowery field, +The streams and fountains no delights could yield: +'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend, +And see the boughs with happy burdens bend. +The hook she bore instead of Cynthia's spear, +To lop the growth of the luxuriant year, 10 +To decent forms the lawless shoots to bring, +And teach th' obedient branches where to spring. +Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives, +And yields an offspring more than nature gives; +Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew, +And feed their fibres with reviving dew. + +These cares alone her virgin breast employ, +Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy. +Her private orchards, wall'd on every side, +To lawless sylvans all access denied. 20 +How oft the satyrs and the wanton fauns, +Who haunt the forests or frequent the lawns, +The god whose ensign scares the birds of prey, +And old Silenus, youthful in decay, +Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care +To pass the fences, and surprise the fair! +Like these, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame, +Like these, rejected by the scornful dame. +To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears; +And first a reaper from the field appears: 30 +Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain +O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain: +Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid, +And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade: +Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears, +Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers: +Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines, +And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines: +Now gathering what the bounteous year allows, +He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs: 40 +A soldier now, he with his sword appears; +A fisher next, his trembling angle bears: +Each shape he varies, and each art he tries, +On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes. + +A female form at last Vertumnus wears, +With all the marks of reverend age appears, +His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: +Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes, +A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows. +The god in this decrepid form array'd 50 +The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd; +And, 'Happy you!' he thus address'd the maid, +'Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine, +As other gardens are excell'd by thine!' +Then kiss'd the fair; (his kisses warmer grow +Than such as women on their sex bestow) +Then, placed beside her on the flowery ground, +Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd. +An elm was near, to whose embraces led, +The curling vine her swelling clusters spread: 60 +He view'd her twining branches with delight, +And praised the beauty of the pleasing sight. + +'Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,' he said, +'Had stood neglected, and a barren shade; +And this fair vine, but that her arms surround +Her married elm, had crept along the ground. +Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move +Your mind, averse from all the joys of love. +Deign to be loved, and every heart subdue! +What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you? 70 +Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur's arms, +Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms. +Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain, +A thousand court you, though they court in vain-- +A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods, +That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods. +But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, +Whom age and long experience render wise, +And one whose tender care is far above +All that these lovers ever felt of love, 80 +(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd) +Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest: +For his firm faith I dare engage my own: +Scarce to himself, himself is better known. +To distant lands Vertumnus never roves; +Like you, contented with his native groves; +Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair: +For you he lives; and you alone shall share +His last affection, as his early care. +Besides, he's lovely far above the rest, 90 +With youth immortal, and with beauty bless'd. +Add, that he varies every shape with ease, +And tries all forms that may Pomona please. +But what should most excite a mutual flame, +Your rural cares and pleasures are the same. +To him your orchard's early fruits are due; +(A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you) +He values these; but yet, alas! complains +That still the best and dearest gift remains. +Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows 100 +With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows; +Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise, +Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies; +You, only you, can move the god's desire: +Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire! +Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind: +Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind: +So may no frost, when early buds appear, +Destroy the promise of the youthful year; +Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows, 110 +Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!' + +This, when the various god had urged in vain, +He straight assumed his native form again: +Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears, +As when through clouds th' emerging sun appears, +And thence exerting his refulgent ray, +Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day. +Force he prepared, but check'd the rash design; +For when, appearing in a form divine, +The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace 120 +Of charming features and a youthful face, +In her soft breast consenting passions move, +And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love. + + + +THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS. + +TRANSLATED IN THE YEAR 1703. + +ARGUMENT. + +Oedipus, King of Thebes, having, by mistake, slain his father Laius, and +married his mother Jocasta, put out his own eyes, and resigned his realm +to his sons Eteocles and Polynices. Being neglected by them, he makes +his prayer to the fury Tisiphone, to sow debate betwixt the brothers. +They agree at last to reign singly, each a year by turns, and the first +lot is obtained by Eteocles. Jupiter, in a council of the gods, declares +his resolution of punishing the Thebans, and Argives also, by means of a +marriage betwixt Polynices and one of the daughters of Adrastus, King of +Argos. Juno opposes, but to no effect; and Mercury is sent on a message +to the shades, to the ghost of Laius, who is to appear to Eteocles, and +provoke him to break the agreement. Polynices, in the meantime, departs +from Thebes by night, is overtaken by a storm, and arrives at Argos, +where he meets with Tydeus, who had fled from Calydon, having killed his +brother. Adrastus entertains them, having received an oracle from Apollo +that his daughters should be married to a boar and a lion, which he +understands to be meant by these strangers, by whom the hides of those +beasts were worn, and who arrived at the time when he kept an annual +feast in honour of that god. The rise of this solemnity, he relates to +his guests; the loves of Phoebus and Psamathe, and the story of +Choroebus. He inquires, and is made acquainted with their descent and +quality. The sacrifice is renewed, and the book concludes with a hymn to +Apollo.--_P_. + + +Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes' alarms, +Th' alternate reign destroy'd by impious arms, +Demand our song; a sacred fury fires +My ravish'd breast, and all the Muse inspires. +O goddess! say, shall I deduce my rhymes +From the dire nation in its early times, +Europa's rape, Agenor's stern decree, +And Cadmus searching round the spacious sea? +How with the serpent's teeth he sow'd the soil, +And reap'd an iron harvest of his toil? 10 +Or how from joining stones the city sprung, +While to his harp divine Amphion sung? +Or shall I Juno's hate to Thebes resound, +Whose fatal rage th' unhappy monarch found? +The sire against the son his arrows drew, +O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew, +And while her arms a second hope contain, +Sprung from the rocks, and plunged into the main. + +But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong, +And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song 20 +At Oedipus--from his disasters trace +The long confusions of his guilty race: +Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder wing, +And mighty Caesar's conquering eagles sing; +How twice he tamed proud Ister's rapid flood, +While Dacian mountains stream'd with barbarous blood; +Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll, +And stretch'd his empire to the frozen pole; +Or, long before, with early valour strove +In youthful arms t' assert the cause of Jove. 30 +And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame, +Increase of glory to the Latian name! +Oh! bless thy Rome with an eternal reign, +Nor let desiring worlds entreat in vain. +What though the stars contract their heavenly space, +And crowd their shining ranks to yield thee place; +Though all the skies, ambitious of thy sway, +Conspire to court thee from our world away; +Though Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine, +And in thy glories more serenely shine; 40 +Though Jove himself no less content would be +To part his throne, and share his heaven with thee: +Yet stay, great Caesar! and vouchsafe to reign +O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watery main; +Resign to Jove his empire of the skies, +And people heaven with Roman deities. + +The time will come when a diviner flame +Shall warm my breast to sing of Caesar's fame; +Meanwhile, permit that my preluding Muse +In Theban wars an humbler theme may choose: 50 +Of furious hate surviving death she sings, +A fatal throne to two contending kings, +And funeral flames, that, parting wide in air, +Express the discord of the souls they bear: +Of towns dispeopled, and the wandering ghosts +Of kings unburied in the wasted coasts; +When Dirce's fountain blush'd with Grecian blood, +And Thetis, near Ismenos' swelling flood, +With dread beheld the rolling surges sweep +In heaps his slaughter'd sons into the deep. 60 + +What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate? +The rage of Tydeus, or the prophet's fate? +Or how, with hills of slain on every side, +Hippomedon repell'd the hostile tide? +Or how the youth, with every grace adorn'd, +Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd? +Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend, +And sing with horror his prodigious end. + +Now wretched Oedipus, deprived of sight, +Led a long death in everlasting night; 70 +But while he dwells where not a cheerful ray +Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day, +The clear reflecting mind presents his sin +In frightful views, and makes it day within; +Returning thoughts in endless circles roll, +And thousand Furies haunt his guilty soul: +The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies +Those empty orbs from whence he tore his eyes, +Whose wounds, yet fresh, with bloody hands he strook, +While from his breast these dreadful accents broke: 80 + +'Ye gods! that o'er the gloomy regions reign, +Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain; +Thou, sable Styx! whose livid streams are roll'd +Through dreary coasts, which I though blind behold; +Tisiphone! that oft hast heard my prayer, +Assist, if Oedipus deserve thy care. +If you received me from Jocasta's womb, +And nursed the hope of mischiefs yet to come; +If, leaving Polybus, I took my way +To Cyrrha's temple, on that fatal day 90 +When by the son the trembling father died, +Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide; +If I the Sphynx's riddles durst explain, +Taught by thyself to win the promised reign; +If wretched I, by baleful Furies led, +With monstrous mixture stain'd my mother's bed, +For hell and thee begot an impious brood, +And with full lust those horrid joys renew'd; +Then, self-condemn'd to shades of endless night, +Forced from these orbs the bleeding balls of sight; 100 +Oh, hear! and aid the vengeance I require, +If worthy thee, and what thou might'st inspire! +My sons their old, unhappy sire despise, +Spoil'd of his kingdom, and deprived of eyes; +Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn, +Whilst these exalt their sceptres o'er my urn: +These sons, ye gods! who with flagitious pride +Insult my darkness and my groans deride. +Art thou a father, unregarding Jove! +And sleeps thy thunder in the realms above? 110 +Thou Fury! then some lasting curse entail, +Which o'er their children's children shall prevail; +Place on their heads that crown, distain'd with gore, +Which these dire hands from my slain father tore; +Go! and a parent's heavy curses bear; +Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare +Their kindred souls to mutual hate and war. +Give them to dare, what I might wish to see, +Blind as I am, some glorious villany! +Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands, 120 +Their ready guilt preventing thy commands: +Couldst thou some great proportion'd mischief frame, +They'd prove the father from whose loins they came.' + +The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink +Her snakes, untied, sulphureous waters drink; +But at the summons roll'd her eyes around, +And snatch'd the starting serpents from the ground. +Not half so swiftly shoots along in air +The gliding lightning or descending star; +Through crowds of airy shades she wing'd her flight, 130 +And dark dominions of the silent night; +Swift as she pass'd the flitting ghosts withdrew, +And the pale spectres trembled at her view: +To th' iron gates of Tenarus she flies, +There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies. +The day beheld, and, sickening at the sight, +Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of night. +Affrighted Atlas on the distant shore +Trembled, and shook the heavens and gods he bore. +Now from beneath Malea's airy height 140 +Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight; +With eager speed the well-known journey took, +Nor here regrets the hell she late forsook. +A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade, +A hundred serpents guard her horrid head; +In her sunk eyeballs dreadful meteors glow: +Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow, +When, labouring with strong charms, she shoots from high +A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky. +Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came 150 +Blue steaming poisons, and a length of flame. +From every blast of her contagious breath +Famine and drought proceed, and plagues and death. +A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown, +A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone. +She toss'd her meagre arms; her better hand +In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand: +A serpent from her left was seen to rear +His flaming crest, and lash the yielding air. +But when the Fury took her stand on high, 160 +Where vast Cithaeron's top salutes the sky, +A hiss from all the snaky tire went round: +The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound, +And through th' Achaian cities send the sound. +Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the voice; +Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise; +Again Leucothoe shook at these alarms, +And press'd Palaermon closer in her arms. +Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs, +And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings, 170 +Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds +Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds. +Straight with the rage of all their race possess'd, +Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest, +And all their Furies wake within their breast: +Their tortured minds repining Envy tears, +And Hate, engender'd by suspicious fears: +And sacred thirst of sway, and all the ties +Of nature broke; and royal perjuries; +And impotent desire to reign alone, 180 +That scorns the dull reversion of a throne: +Each would the sweets of sovereign rule devour, +While Discord waits upon divided power. + +As stubborn steers, by brawny ploughmen broke, +And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke, +Alike disdain with servile necks to bear +Th' unwonted weight, or drag the crooked share, +But rend the reins, and bound a different way, +And all the furrows in confusion lay: +Such was the discord of the royal pair 190 +Whom fury drove precipitate to war. +In vain the chiefs contrived a specious way +To govern Thebes by their alternate sway: +Unjust decree! while this enjoys the state, +That mourns in exile his unequal fate, +And the short monarch of a hasty year +Foresees with anguish his returning heir. +Thus did the league their impious arms restrain, +But scarce subsisted to the second reign. + +Yet then no proud aspiring piles were raised, 200 +No fretted roofs with polish'd metals blazed; +No labour'd columns in long order placed, +No Grecian stone the pompous arches graced: +No nightly bands in glittering armour wait +Before the sleepless tyrant's guarded gate; +No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd gold, +Nor silver vases took the forming mould; +Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to shine, +Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine-- +Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage? 210 +Say, to what end your impious arms engage? +Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn, +Or when his evening beams the west adorn, +When the south glows with his meridian ray, +And the cold north receives a fainter day; +For crimes like these, not all those realms suffice, +Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize! + +But Fortune now (the lots of empire thrown) +Decrees to proud Eteocles the crown: +What joys, O tyrant! swell'd thy soul that day, 220 +When all were slaves thou couldst around survey, +Pleased to behold unbounded power thy own, +And singly fill a fear'd and envied throne! + +But the vile vulgar, ever discontent, +Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent; +Still prone to change, though still the slaves of state, +And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate; +New lords they madly make, then tamely bear, +And softly curse the tyrants whom they fear. +And one of those who groan beneath the sway 230 +Of kings imposed, and grudgingly obey, +(Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spite, +With scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight) +Exclaim'd--'O Thebes! for thee what fates remain, +What woes attend this inauspicious reign? +Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare +Each haughty master's yoke by turns to bear, +And still to change whom changed we still must fear? +These now control a wretched people's fate +These can divide, and these reverse the state: 240 +E'en fortune rules no more--O servile land, +Where exiled tyrants still by turns command! +Thou sire of gods and men, imperial Jove! +Is this th' eternal doom decreed above? +On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this fate +From the first birth of our unhappy state, +When banish'd Cadmus, wandering o'er the main, +For lost Europa search'd the world in vain, +And, fated in Boeotian fields to found, +A rising empire on a foreign ground, 250 +First raised our walls on that ill omen'd plain +Where earth-born brothers were by brothers slain? +What lofty looks th' unrivall'd monarch bears! +How all the tyrant in his face appears! +What sullen fury clouds his scornful brow! +Gods! how his eyes with threatening ardour glow! +Can this imperious lord forget to reign, +Quit all his state, descend, and serve again? +Yet who, before, more popularly bow'd? +Who more propitious to the suppliant crowd? 260 +Patient of right, familiar in the throne, +What wonder then? he was not then alone. +Oh wretched we! a vile, submissive train, +Fortune's tame fools, and slaves in every reign! + +'As when two winds with rival force contend, +This way and that the wavering sails they bend, +While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow, +Now here, now there, the reeling vessel throw; +Thus on each side, alas! our tottering state +Feels all the fury of resistless fate, 270 +And doubtful still, and still distracted stands, +While that prince threatens, and while this commands.' + +And now th' almighty Father of the gods +Convenes a council in the bless'd abodes. +Far in the bright recesses of the skies, +High o'er the rolling heavens, a mansion lies, +Whence, far below, the gods at once survey +The realms of rising and declining day, +And all th' extended space of earth, and air, and sea. +Full in the midst, and on a starry throne, 280 +The Majesty of heaven superior shone: +Serene he look'd, and gave an awful nod, +And all the trembling spheres confess'd the god. +At Jove's assent the deities around +In solemn state the consistory crown'd. +Next a long order of inferior powers +Ascend from hills, and plains, and shady bowers; +Those from whose urns the rolling rivers flow, +And those that give the wandering winds to blow: +Here all their rage and ev'n their murmurs cease, 290 +And sacred silence reigns, and universal peace. +A shining synod of majestic gods +Gilds with new lustre the divine abodes: +Heaven seems improved with a superior ray, +And the bright arch reflects a double day. +The monarch then his solemn silence broke, +The still creation listen'd while he spoke; +Each sacred accent bears eternal weight, +And each irrevocable word is fate. + +'How long shall man the wrath of Heaven defy, 300 +And force unwilling vengeance from the sky? +O race confederate into crimes, that prove +Triumphant o'er th' eluded rage of Jove! +This wearied arm can scarce the bolt sustain, +And unregarded thunder rolls in vain: +Th' o'erlabour'd Cyclops from his task retires, +Th' AEolian forge exhausted of its fires. +For this, I suffer'd Phoebus' steeds to stray, +And the mad ruler to misguide the day, +When the wide earth to heaps of ashes turn'd, 310 +And Heaven itself the wandering chariot burn'd: +For this my brother of the watery reign +Released the impetuous sluices of the main; +But flames consumed, and billows raged in vain. +Two races now, allied to Jove, offend; +To punish these, see Jove himself descend. +The Theban kings their line from Cadmus trace, +From godlike Perseus those of Argive race. +Unhappy Cadmus' fate who does not know, +And the long series of succeeding woe? 320 +How oft the Furies, from the deeps of night, +Arose, and mix'd with men in mortal fight; +Th' exulting mother stain'd with filial blood, +The savage hunter and the haunted wood? +The direful banquet why should I proclaim, +And crimes that grieve the trembling gods to name? +Ere I recount the sins of these profane, +The sun would sink into the western main, +And, rising, gild the radiant east again. +Have we not seen (the blood of Laius shed) 330 +The murdering son ascend his parent's bed, +Through violated nature force his way, +And stain the sacred womb where once he lay? +Yet now in darkness and despair he groans, +And for the crimes of guilty fate atones; +His sons with scorn their eyeless father view, +Insult his wounds, and make them bleed anew. +Thy curse, O OEdipus! just Heaven alarms, +And sets th' avenging Thunderer in arms. +I from the root thy guilty race will tear, 340 +And give the nations to the waste of war. +Adrastus soon, with gods averse, shall join +In dire alliance with the Theban line; +Hence strife shall rise, and mortal war succeed; +The guilty realms of Tantalus shall bleed: +Fix'd is their doom. This all-remembering breast +Yet harbours vengeance for the tyrant's feast.' + +He said; and thus the queen of heaven return'd: +(With sudden grief her labouring bosom burn'd) +'Must I, whose cares Phoroneus' towers defend, 350 +Must I, O Jove! in bloody wars contend? +Thou know'st those regions my protection claim, +Glorious in arms, in riches, and in fame: +Though there the fair Egyptian heifer fed, +And there deluded Argus slept and bled: +Though there the brazen tower was storm'd of old, +When Jove descended in almighty gold! +Yet I can pardon those obscurer rapes, +Those bashful crimes disguised in borrow'd shapes; +But Thebes, where, shining in celestial charms, 360 +Thou cam'st triumphant to a mortal's arms, +When all my glories o'er her limbs were spread, +And blazing lightnings danced around her bed; +Cursed Thebes the vengeance it deserves may prove-- +Ah! why should Argos feel the rage of Jove? +Yet since thou wilt thy sister-queen control, +Since still the lust of discord fires thy soul, +Go, raze my Samos, let Mycene fall, +And level with the dust the Spartan wall; +No more let mortals Juno's power invoke, 370 +Her fanes no more with Eastern incense smoke, +Nor victims sink beneath the sacred stroke! +But to your Isis all my rights transfer, +Let altars blaze and temples smoke for her; +For her, through Egypt's fruitful clime renown'd, +Let weeping Nilus hear the timbrel sound. +But if thou must reform the stubborn times, +Avenging on the sons the fathers' crimes, +And from the long records of distant age +Derive incitements to renew thy rage; 380 +Say, from what period then has Jove design'd +To date his vengeance? to what bounds confined? +Begin from thence, where first Alpheus hides +His wandering stream, and through the briny tides +Unmix'd to his Sicilian river glides. +Thy own Arcadians there the thunder claim, +Whose impious rites disgrace thy mighty name; +Who raise thy temples where the chariot stood +Of fierce Oenomaues, defiled with blood; +Where once his steeds their savage banquet found, 390 +And human bones yet whiten all the ground. +Say, can those honours please? and canst thou love +Presumptuous Crete, that boasts the tomb of Jove? +And shall not Tantalus's kingdoms share +Thy wife and sister's tutelary care? +Reverse, O Jove! thy too severe decree, +Nor doom to war a race derived from thee; +On impious realms and barbarous kings impose +Thy plagues, and curse them with such sons[57] as those.' + +Thus in reproach and prayer the queen express'd 400 +The rage and grief contending in her breast; +Unmoved remain'd the ruler of the sky, +And from his throne return'd this stern reply: +''Twas thus I deem'd thy haughty soul would bear +The dire, though just revenge which I prepare +Against a nation thy peculiar care: +No less Dione might for Thebes contend. +Nor Bacchus less his native town defend; +Yet these in silence see the Fates fulfil +Their work, and reverence our superior will: 410 +For by the black infernal Styx I swear, +(That dreadful oath which binds the Thunderer) +'Tis fix'd, th' irrevocable doom of Jove; +No force can bend me, no persuasion more. +Haste then, Cyllenius, through the liquid air; +Go, mount the winds, and to the shades repair; +Bid hell's black monarch my commands obey, +And give up Laius to the realms of day, +Whose ghost yet shivering on Cocytus' sand +Expects its passage to the further strand: 420 +Let the pale sire revisit Thebes, and bear +These pleasing orders to the tyrant's ear; +That, from his exiled brother, swell'd with pride +Of foreign forces and his Argive bride, +Almighty Jove commands him to detain +The promised empire, and alternate reign: +Be this the cause of more than mortal hate; +The rest, succeeding times shall ripen into fate.' + +The god obeys, and to his feet applies +Those golden wings that cut the yielding skies; 430 +His ample hat his beamy locks o'erspread, +And veil'd the starry glories of his head. +He seized the wand that causes sleep to fly, +Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye; +That drives the dead to dark Tartarean coasts, +Or back to life compels the wandering ghosts. +Thus through the parting clouds the son of May +Wings on the whistling winds his rapid way; +Now smoothly steers through air his equal flight, +Now springs aloft, and towers th' ethereal height: 440 +Then wheeling down the steep of heaven he flies, +And draws a radiant circle o'er the skies. + +Meantime the banish'd Polynices roves +(His Thebes abandon'd) through the Aonian groves, +While future realms his wandering thoughts delight, +His daily vision, and his dream by night; +Forbidden Thebes appears before his eye, +From whence he sees his absent brother fly, +With transport views the airy rule his own, +And swells on an imaginary throne. 450 +Fain would he cast a tedious age away, +And live out all in one triumphant day. +He chides the lazy progress of the sun, +And bids the year with swifter motion run: +With anxious hopes his craving mind is toss'd +And all his joys in length of wishes lost. + +The hero then resolves his course to bend +Where ancient Danaus' fruitful fields extend; +And famed Mycene's lofty towers ascend; +(Where late the sun did Atreus' crimes detest, 460 +And disappear'd in horror of the feast). +And now by chance, by fate, or furies led, +From Bacchus' consecrated caves he fled, +Where the shrill cries of frantic matrons sound, +And Pentheus' blood enrich'd the rising ground; +Then sees Cithaeron towering o'er the plain, +And thence declining gently to the main; +Next to the bounds of Nisus' realm repairs, +Where treacherous Scylla cut the purple hairs; +The hanging cliffs of Scyron's rock explores, 470 +And hears the murmurs of the different shores; +Passes the strait that parts the foaming seas, +And stately Corinth's pleasing site surveys. + +'Twas now the time when Phoebus yields to night, +And rising Cynthia sheds her silver light; +Wide o'er the world in solemn pomp she drew +Her airy chariot, hung with pearly dew: +All birds and beasts lie hush'd; sleep steals away +The wild desires of men, and toils of day, +And brings, descending through the silent air, 480 +A sweet forgetfulness of human care. +Yet no red clouds, with golden borders gay, +Promise the skies the bright return of day; +No faint reflections of the distant light +Streak with long gleams the scattering shades of night: +From the damp earth impervious vapours rise, +Increase the darkness, and involve the skies. +At once the rushing winds with roaring sound +Burst from th' AEolian caves, and rend the ground; +With equal rage their airy quarrel try, 490 +And win by turns the kingdom of the sky; +But with a thicker night black Auster shrouds +The heavens, and drives on heaps the rolling clouds, +From whose dark womb a rattling tempest pours, +Which the cold north congeals to haily showers. +From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud, +And broken lightnings flash from every cloud. +Now smokes with showers the misty mountain-ground, +And floated fields lie undistinguish'd round; +Th' Inachian streams with headlong fury run, 500 +And Erasinus rolls a deluge on; +The foaming Lerna swells above its bounds, +And spreads its ancient poisons o'er the grounds: +Where late was dust, now rapid torrents play, +Rush through the mounds, and bear the dams away: +Old limbs of trees, from crackling forests torn, +Are whirl'd in air, and on the winds are borne: +The storm the dark Lycaean groves display'd, +And first to light exposed the sacred shade. +Th' intrepid Theban hears the bursting sky, +Sees yawning rocks in massy fragments fly, +And views astonish'd, from the hills afar, +The floods descending, and the watery war, 510 +That, driven by storms, and pouring o'er the plain, +Swept herds, and hinds, and houses to the main. +Through the brown horrors of the night he fled, +Nor knows, amazed, what doubtful path to tread; +His brother's image to his mind appears, +Inflames his heart with rage, and wings his feet with fears. + +So fares the sailor on the stormy main, 520 +When clouds conceal Bootes' golden wain, +When not a star its friendly lustre keeps, +Nor trembling Cynthia glimmers on the deeps; +He dreads the rocks, and shoals, and seas, and skies, +While thunder roars, and lightning round him flies. + +Thus strove the chief, on every side distress'd; +Thus still his courage with his toils increased: +With his broad shield opposed, he forced his way +Through thickest woods, and roused the beasts of prey +Till he beheld, where from Larissa's height, 530 +The shelving walls reflect a glancing light: +Thither with haste the Theban hero flies; +On this side Lerna's poisonous water lies, +On that Prosymna's grove and temple rise: +He pass'd the gates which then unguarded lay, +And to the regal palace bent his way; +On the cold marble, spent with toil, he lies, +And waits till pleasing slumbers seal his eyes. + +Adrastus here his happy people sways, +Bless'd with calm peace in his declining days; 540 +By both his parents of descent divine, +Great Jove and Phoebus graced his noble line: +Heaven had not crown'd his wishes with a son, +But two fair daughters heir'd his state and throne. +To him Apollo (wondrous to relate! +But who can pierce into the depths of fate?) +Had sung--'Expect thy sons on Argos' shore, +A yellow lion and a bristly boar.' +This, long revolved in his paternal breast, +Sat heavy on his heart, and broke his rest; 550 +This, great Amphiaraus! lay hid from thee, +Though skill'd in fate and dark futurity. +The father's care and prophet's art were vain, +For thus did the predicting god ordain. + +Lo, hapless Tydeus, whose ill-fated hand +Had slain his brother, leaves his native land, +And, seized with horror, in the shades of night, +Through the thick deserts headlong urged his flight: +Now by the fury of the tempest driven, +He seeks a shelter from th' inclement heaven, 560 +Till, led by fate, the Theban's steps he treads, +And to fair Argos' open court succeeds. + +When thus the chiefs from different lands resort +To Adrastus' realms and hospitable court, +The king surveys his guests with curious eyes, +And views their arms and habit with surprise. +A lion's yellow skin the Theban wears, +Horrid his mane, and rough with curling hairs: +Such once employ'd Alcides' youthful toils, +Ere yet adorn'd with Nemea's dreadful spoils. 570 +A boar's stiff hide, of Calydonian breed, +Oenides' manly shoulders overspread; +Oblique his tusks, erect his bristles stood, +Alive, the pride and terror of the wood. + +Struck with the sight, and fix'd in deep amaze, +The king th' accomplish'd oracle surveys, +Reveres Apollo's vocal caves, and owns +The guiding godhead, and his future sons. +O'er all his bosom secret transports reign, +And a glad horror shoots through every vein: 580 +To heaven he lifts his hands, erects his sight, +And thus invokes the silent queen of night: + +'Goddess of shades! beneath whose gloomy reign +Yon spangled arch glows with the starry train; +You who the cares of heaven and earth allay +Till nature, quicken'd by th' inspiring ray, +Wakes to new vigour with the rising day: +O thou who freest me from my doubtful state, +Long lost and wilder'd in the maze of fate, +Be present still, O goddess! in our aid; 590 +Proceed, and firm those omens thou hast made. +We to thy name our annual rites will pay, +And on thy altars sacrifices lay; +The sable flock shall fall beneath the stroke, +And fill thy temples with a grateful smoke. +Hail, faithful Tripos! hail, ye dark abodes +Of awful Phoebus; I confess the gods!' + +Thus, seized with sacred fear, the monarch pray'd; +Then to his inner court the guests convey'd, +Where yet thin fumes from dying sparks arise, 600 +And dust yet white upon each altar lies, +The relics of a former sacrifice. +The king once more the solemn rites requires, +And bids renew the feasts and wake the fires. +His train obey; while all the courts around +With noisy care and various tumult sound. +Embroider'd purple clothes the golden beds; +This slave the floor, and that the table spreads; +A third dispels the darkness of the night, +And fills depending lamps with beams of light; 610 +Here loaves in canisters are piled on high, +And there in flames the slaughter'd victims fly. +Sublime in regal state Adrastus shone, +Stretch'd on rich carpets on his ivory throne; +A lofty couch receives each princely guest; +Around, at awful distance, wait the rest. + +And now the king, his royal feast to grace, +Acestis calls, the guardian of his race, +Who first their youth in arts of virtue train'd, +And their ripe years in modest grace maintain'd; 620 +Then softly whisper'd in her faithful ear, +And bade his daughters at the rites appear. +When from the close apartments of the night +The royal nymphs approach, divinely bright, +Such was Diana's, such Minerva's face; +Nor shine their beauties with superior grace, +But that in these a milder charm endears, +And less of terror in their looks appears. +As on the heroes first they cast their eyes, +O'er their fair cheeks the glowing blushes rise; 630 +Their downcast looks a decent shame confess'd, +Then on their father's reverend features rest. + +The banquet done, the monarch gives the sign +To fill the goblet high with sparkling wine, +Which Danaus used in sacred rites of old, +With sculpture graced, and rough with rising gold: +Here to the clouds victorious Perseus flies, +Medusa seems to move her languid eyes, +And, e'en in gold, turns paler as she dies: +There from the chase Jove's towering eagle bears, 640 +On golden wings, the Phrygian to the stars; +Still as he rises in th' ethereal height, +His native mountains lessen to his sight, +While all his sad companions upward gaze, +Fix'd on the glorious scene in wild amaze; +And the swift hounds, affrighted as he flies, +Run to the shade, and bark against the skies. + +This golden bowl with generous juice was crown'd, +The first libation sprinkled on the ground; +By turns on each celestial power they call; 650 +With Phoebus' name resounds the vaulted hall. +The courtly train, the strangers, and the rest, +Crown'd with chaste laurel, and with garlands dress'd, +While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze, +Salute the god in numerous hymns of praise. + +Then thus the king: 'Perhaps, my noble guests, +These honour'd altars, and these annual feasts +To bright Apollo's awful name design'd, +Unknown, with wonder may perplex your mind. +Great was the cause: our old solemnities 660 +From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise; +But saved from death, our Argives yearly pay +These grateful honours to the god of day. + +'When by a thousand darts the Python slain, +With orbs unroll'd lay covering all the plain, +(Transfix'd as o'er Castalia's streams he hung, +And suck'd new poisons with his triple tongue), +To Argos' realms the victor god resorts, +And enters old Crotopus' humble courts. +This rural prince one only daughter bless'd, 670 +That all the charms of blooming youth possess'd; +Pair was her face, and spotless was her mind, +Where filial love with virgin sweetness join'd: +Happy! and happy still she might have proved, +Were she less beautiful, or less beloved! +But Phoebus loved, and on the flowery side +Of Nemea's stream the yielding fair enjoy'd. +Now, ere ten moons their orb with light adorn, +Th' illustrious offspring of the god was born; +The nymph, her father's anger to evade, 680 +Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade; +To woods and wilds the pleasing burden bears, +And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares. + +'How mean a fate, unhappy child! is thine! +Ah! how unworthy those of race divine! +On flowery herbs in some green covert laid, +His bed the ground, his canopy the shade, +He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries, +While the rude swain his rural music tries, +To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes. 690 +Yet ev'n in those obscure abodes to live +Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give; +For on the grassy verdure as he lay, +And breathed the freshness of the early day, +Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore, +Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore. +Th' astonish'd mother, when the rumour came, +Forgets her father, and neglects her fame; +With loud complaints she fills the yielding air, +And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair; 700 +Then, wild with anguish, to her sire she flies, +Demands the sentence, and contented dies. + +'But, touch'd with sorrow for the deed too late, +The raging god prepares t' avenge her fate. +He sends a monster horrible and fell, +Begot by Furies in the depths of hell. +The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears; +High on her crown a rising snake appears, +Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs: +About the realm she walks her dreadful round, 710 +When Night with sable wings o'erspreads the ground, +Devours young babes before their parents' eyes, +And feeds and thrives on public miseries. + +'But generous rage the bold Choroebus warms, +Choroebus, famed for virtue as for arms. +Some few like him, inspired with martial flame, +Thought a short life well lost for endless fame. +These, where two ways in equal parts divide, +The direful monster from afar descried, +Two bleeding babes depending at her side, 720 +Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she draws, +And in their hearts imbrues her cruel claws. +The youths surround her with extended spears; +But brave Choroebus in the front appears; +Deep in her breast he plunged his shining sword, +And hell's dire monster back to hell restored. +Th' Inachians view the slain with vast surprise, +Her twisting volumes, and her rolling eyes, +Her spotted breast, and gaping womb, imbrued +With livid poison and our children's blood. 730 +The crowd in stupid wonder fix'd appear, +Pale ev'n in joy, nor yet forget to fear. +Some with vast beams the squalid corse engage, +And weary all the wild efforts of rage. +The birds obscene, that nightly flock'd to taste, +With hollow screeches fled the dire repast; +And ravenous dogs, allured by scented blood, +And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood. + +'But fired with rage, from cleft Parnassus' brow +Avenging Phoebus bent his deadly bow, 740 +And hissing flew the feather'd fates below: +A night of sultry clouds involved around +The towers, the fields, and the devoted ground: +And now a thousand lives together fled; +Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread, +And a whole province in his triumph led. + +'But Phoebus, ask'd why noxious fires appear, +And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year, +Demands their lives by whom his monster fell, +And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell. 750 + +'Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame +Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name, +Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave, +In such a cause disdained thy life to save, +But view'd the shrine with a superior look, +And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke: +"With piety, the soul's securest guard, +And conscious virtue, still its own reward, +Willing I come, unknowing how to fear, +Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here: 760 +Thy monster's death to me was owed alone, +And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown. +Behold him here, for whom, so many days, +Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays; +For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care, +Such numbers fell by pestilential air! +But if th' abandon'd race of human kind +From gods above no more compassion find; +If such inclemency in heaven can dwell, +Yet why must unoffending Argos feel 770 +The vengeance due to this unlucky steel? +On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, +Nor err from me, since I deserve it all: +Unless our desert cities please thy sight, +Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light. +Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend, +And to the shades a ghost triumphant send; +But for my country let my fate atone; +Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own!" + +'Merit distress'd, impartial heaven relieves: 780 +Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives; +For not the vengeful power, that glow'd with rage, +With such amazing virtue durst engage. +The clouds dispersed, Apollo's wrath expired, +And from the wondering god th' unwilling youth retired. +Thence we these altars in his temple raise, +And offer annual honours, feasts, and praise; +These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus please; +These honours, still renew'd, his ancient wrath appease. + +'But say, illustrious guest, (adjoin'd the king) 790 +What name you bear, from what high race you spring? +The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and known +Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon: +Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night +And silent hours to various talk invite.' + +The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, +Confused, and sadly thus at length replies:-- +'Before these altars how shall I proclaim +(O generous prince!) my nation or my name, +Or through what veins our ancient blood has roll'd? 800 +Let the sad tale for ever rest untold! +Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown, +You seek to share in sorrows not your own, +Know then from Cadmus I derive my race, +Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place.' + +To whom the king (who felt his generous breast +Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest) +Replies--'Ah! why forbears the son to name +His wretched father, known too well by fame? +Fame, that delights around the world to stray, 810 +Scorns not to take our Argos in her way. +Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance roll, +In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole, +And those who tread the burning Libyan lands, +The faithless Syrtes, and the moving sands; +Who view the western sea's extremest bounds, +Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds; +All these the woes of Oedipus have known, +Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town. +If on the sons the parents' crimes descend, 820 +What prince from those his lineage can defend? +Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t' efface, +With virtuous acts, thy ancestors' disgrace, +And be thyself the honour of thy race. +But see! the stars begin to steal away, +And shine more faintly at approaching day; +Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays +Once more resound the great Apollo's praise.' + +'O father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coast +And snowy mountains thy bright presence boast: 830 +Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair, +And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair; +Or pleased to find fair Delos float no more, +Delight in Cynthus and the shady shore; +Or choose thy seat in Ilion's proud abodes, +The shining structures raised by labouring gods: +By thee the bow and mortal shafts are borne; +Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn: +Skill'd in the laws of secret fate above, +And the dark counsels of almighty Jove, 840 +'Tis thine the seeds of future war to know, +The change of sceptres and impending woe, +When direful meteors spread through glowing air +Long trails of light and shake their blazing hair. +Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire +T' excel the music of thy heavenly lyre; +Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty flame, +Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame; +Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost +Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast. 850 +In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge appears, +Condemn'd to Furies and eternal fears; +He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye, +The mouldering rock that trembles from on high. + +'Propitious hear our prayer, O power divine! +And on thy hospitable Argos shine; +Whether the style of Titan please thee more, +Whose purple rays th' Achaemenes adore: +Or great Osiris, who first taught the swain +In Pharian fields to sow the golden grain; 860 +Or Mithra, to whose beams the Persian bows, +And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows; +Mithra! whose head the blaze of light adorns, +Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar horns.' + + + * * * * * + + +JANUARY AND MAY. + +FROM CHAUCER.[58] + +There lived in Lombardy, as authors write, +In days of old, a wise and worthy knight; +Of gentle manners, as of generous race, +Bless'd with much sense, more riches, and some grace: +Yet, led astray by Venus' soft delights, +He scarce could rule some idle appetites: +For long ago, let priests say what they could, +Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood. + +But in due time, when sixty years were o'er, +He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more; 10 +Whether pure holiness inspired his mind, +Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find; +But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed, +And try the pleasures of a lawful bed. +This was his nightly dream, his daily care, +And to the heavenly powers his constant prayer, +Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful life +Of a kind husband and a loving wife. + +These thoughts he fortified with reasons still +(For none want reasons to confirm their will). 20 +Grave authors say, and witty poets sing, +That honest wedlock is a glorious thing: +But depth of judgment most in him appears +Who wisely weds in his maturer years. +Then let him choose a damsel young and fair, +To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir; +To soothe his cares, and, free from noise and strife, +Conduct him gently to the verge of life. +Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore, +Full well they merit all they feel, and more: 30 +Unawed by precepts, human or divine, +Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join; +Nor know to make the present blessing last, +To hope the future, or esteem the past: +But vainly boast the joys they never tried, +And find divulged the secrets they would hide. +The married man may bear his yoke with ease, +Secure at once himself and Heaven to please; +And pass his inoffensive hours away, +In bliss all night, and innocence all day: 40 +Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains, +Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains. + +But what so pure which envious tongues will spare? +Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair. +With matchless impudence they style a wife +The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life; +A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, +A night invasion, and a midday devil. +Let not the wise these slanderous words regard, +But curse the bones of every lying bard. 50 +All other goods by fortune's hand are given, +A wife is the peculiar gift of Heaven. +Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay, +Like empty shadows, pass, and glide away; +One solid comfort, our eternal wife, +Abundantly supplies us all our life: +This blessing lasts (if those who try say true) +As long as heart can wish--and longer too. + +Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possess'd, +Alone, and e'en in Paradise unbless'd, 60 +With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd, +And wander'd in the solitary shade. +The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd +Woman, the last, the best reserved of God. + +A wife! ah, gentle deities! can he +That has a wife e'er feel adversity? +Would men but follow what the sex advise, +All things would prosper, all the world grow wise. +Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won +His father's blessing from an elder son: 70 +Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit life +To the wise conduct of a prudent wife: +Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show, +Preserved the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian foe: +At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword +Was sheath'd, and Israel lived to bless the Lord. + +These weighty motives January the sage +Maturely ponder'd in his riper age; +And, charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober life, +Would try that Christian comfort, call'd a wife. 80 +His friends were summon'd on a point so nice +To pass their judgment, and to give advice; +But fix'd before, and well resolved was he; +(As men that ask advice are wont to be). + +'My friends,' he cried (and cast a mournful look +Around the room, and sigh'd before he spoke), +'Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend, +And, worn with cares, am hastening to my end: +How I have lived, alas! you know too well, +In worldly follies which I blush to tell, 90 +But gracious Heaven has oped my eyes at last, +With due regret I view my vices past, +And, as the precept of the church decrees, +Will take a wife, and live in holy ease: +But since by counsel all things should be done, +And many heads are wiser still than one; +Choose you for me, who best shall be content +When my desire's approved by your consent. + +'One caution yet is needful to be told, +To guide your choice: this wife must not be old: 100 +There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, +Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed. +My soul abhors the tasteless dry embrace +Of a stale virgin with a winter face: +In that cold season Love but treats his guest +With beanstraw, and tough forage at the best. +No crafty widows shall approach my bed; +Those are too wise for bachelors to wed. +As subtle clerks by many schools are made, +Twice-married dames are mistresses o' th' trade: 110 +But young and tender virgins, ruled with ease, +We form like wax, and mould them as we please. + +'Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss; +'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss; +Since, if I found no pleasure in my spouse, +As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows? +Then should I live in lewd adultery, +And sink downright to Satan when I die: +Or were I cursed with an unfruitful bed, +The righteous end were lost for which I wed; 120 +To raise up seed to bless the powers above, +And not for pleasure only, or for love. +Think not I dote; 'tis time to take a wife, +When vigorous blood forbids a chaster life: +Those that are bless'd with store of grace divine, +May live like saints, by Heaven's consent and mine! + +'And since I speak of wedlock, let me say +(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may), +My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart, +And a new vigour springs in every part. 130 +Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed +These reverend honours on my hoary head: +Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms white as snow, +The vital sap then rising from below. +Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear +Like winter greens, that flourish all the year. +Now, sirs, you know to what I stand inclined, +Let every friend with freedom speak his mind.' + +He said; the rest in different parts divide; +The knotty point was urged on either side: 140 +Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd, +Some praised with wit, and some with reason blamed. +Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies, +Each wondrous positive and wondrous wise, +There fell between his brothers a debate: +Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that. + +First to the knight Placebo thus begun, +(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone): +'Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears, +As plainly proves experience dwells with years! 150 +Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice, +To work by counsel when affairs are nice: +But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest, +So may my soul arrive at ease and rest, +As still I hold your own advice the best. + +'Sir, I have lived a courtier all my days, +And studied men, their manners, and their ways; +And have observed this useful maxim still. +To let my betters always have their will. +Nay, if my lord affirm'd that black was white, 160 +My word was this, "Your honour's in the right." +Th' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise +As his mistaken patron to advise, +Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought; +A noble fool was never in a fault. +This, sir, affects not you, whose every word +Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a lord: +Your will is mine: and is (I will maintain) +Pleasing to God, and should be so to man; +At least your courage all the world must praise, 170 +Who dare to wed in your declining days. +Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood, +And let gray fools be indolently good, +Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense, +With reverend dulness and grave impotence.' + +Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man, +Thus with a philosophic frown began: + +'A heathen author, of the first degree, +(Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we), +Bids us be certain our concerns to trust 180 +To those of generous principles and just. +The venture's greater, I'll presume to say, +To give your person, than your goods away: +And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest, +First learn your lady's qualities at least: +Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil, +Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil; +Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool, +Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule. +'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find 190 +In all this world, much less in womankind: +But if her virtues prove the larger share, +Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare. +Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend, +Who knows too well the state you thus commend; +And, spite of all his praises, must declare, +All he can find is bondage, cost, and care. +Heaven knows I shed full many a private tear, +And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear; +While all my friends applaud my blissful life, 200 +And swear no mortal's happier in a wife; +Demure and chaste as any vestal nun, +The meekest creature that beholds the sun! +But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain, +And he that smarts has reason to complain. +Do what you list, for me; you must be sage, +And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age: +But at these years to venture on the fair! +By Him who made the ocean, earth, and air, +To please a wife, when her occasions call, 210 +Would busy the most vigorous of us all. +And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose, +Will ask observance, and exact her dues. +If what I speak my noble lord offend, +My tedious sermon here is at an end.' + +''Tis well, 'tis wondrous well,' the knight replies, +'Most worthy kinsman, faith, you're mighty wise! +We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause +To heathenish authors, proverbs, and old saws.' +He spoke with scorn, and turn'd another way: 220 +'What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?' + +'I say,' quoth he, 'by Heaven, the man's to blame, +To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.' + +At this the council rose without delay; +Each, in his own opinion, went his way; +With full consent, that, all disputes appeased, +The knight should marry when and where he pleased. + +Who now but January exults with joy? +The charms of wedlock all his soul employ: +Each nymph by turns his wavering mind possess'd, 230 +And reign'd the short-lived tyrant of his breast; +Whilst fancy pictured every lively part, +And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart. +Thus, in some public forum fix'd on high, +A mirror shows the figures moving by; +Still one by one, in swift succession, pass +The gliding shadows o'er the polish'd glass. +This lady's charms the nicest could not blame, +But vile suspicions had aspersed her fame; +That was with sense, but not with virtue bless'd; 240 +And one had grace that wanted all the rest. +Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey +He fix'd at last upon the youthful May. +Her faults he knew not, love is always blind, +But every charm revolved within his mind: +Her tender age, her form divinely fair, +Her easy motion, her attractive air, +Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face, +Her moving softness, and majestic grace. +Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice, 250 +And thought no mortal could dispute his choice: +Once more in haste he summon'd every friend, +And told them all their pains were at an end. +'Heaven, that (said he) inspired me first to wed, +Provides a consort worthy of my bed: +Let none oppose th' election, since on this +Depends my quiet and my future bliss. + +'A dame there is, the darling of my eyes, +Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise; +Chaste, though not rich; and, though not nobly born, 260 +Of honest parents, and may serve my turn. +Her will I wed, if gracious Heaven so please, +To pass my age in sanctity and ease; +And, thank the powers, I may possess alone +The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none! +If you, my friends, this virgin can procure, +My joys are full, my happiness is sure. + +'One only doubt remains: full oft, I've heard +By casuists grave, and deep divines averr'd, +That 'tis too much for human race to know 270 +The bliss of heaven above and earth below; +Now, should the nuptial pleasures prove so great, +To match the blessings of the future state, +Those endless joys were ill exchanged for these; +Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.' + +This Justin heard, nor could his spleen control, +Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the soul. +'Sir knight,' he cried, 'if this be all you dread, +Heaven put it past your doubt whene'er you wed: +And to my fervent prayers so far consent, 280 +That, ere the rites are o'er, you may repent! +Good Heaven, no doubt, the nuptial state approves, +Since it chastises still what best it loves. +Then be not, sir, abandoned to despair: +Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair +One that may do your business to a hair; +Not e'en in wish your happiness delay, +But prove the scourge to lash you on your way: +Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go, +Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow! 290 +Provided still, you moderate your joy, +Nor in your pleasures all your might employ; +Let reason's rule your strong desires abate, +Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate +Old wives there are, of judgment most acute, +Who solve these questions beyond all dispute; +Consult with those, and be of better cheer; +Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.' + +So said, they rose, nor more the work delay'd +The match was offer'd, the proposals made. 300 +The parents, you may think, would soon comply +The old have interest ever in their eye. +Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind; +When fortune favours, still the fair are kind. + +I pass each previous settlement and deed, +Too long for me to write, or you to read; +Nor will with quaint impertinence display +The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array. +The time approach'd; to church the parties went, +At once with carnal and devout intent: 310 +Forth came the priest, and bade the obedient wife +Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life; +Then pray'd the powers the fruitful bed to bless, +And made all sure enough with holiness. + +And now the palace gates are open'd wide, +The guests appear in order, side by side, +And, placed in state, the bridegroom and the bride. +The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around, +And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound; +The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring, 320 +These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string. +Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre, +Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire, +Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly strain +Could swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train. + +Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace, +(So poets sing) was present on the place: +And lovely Venus, goddess of delight, +Shook high her flaming torch in open sight, +And danced around, and smiled on every knight: 330 +Pleased her best servant would his courage try, +No less in wedlock than in liberty. +Full many an age old Hymen had not spied +So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride. +Ye bards! renown'd among the tuneful throng +For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song, +Think not your softest numbers can display +The matchless glories of this blissful day; +The joys are such as far transcend your rage, +When tender youth has wedded stooping age. 340 + +The beauteous dame sat smiling at the board, +And darted amorous glances at her lord. +Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing, +E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian king: +Bright as the rising sun in summer's day, +And fresh and blooming as the month of May! +The joyful knight survey'd her by his side, +Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride: +Still as his mind revolved with vast delight +Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night, 350 +Restless he sat, invoking every power +To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour. +Meantime the vigorous dancers beat the ground, +And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round. +With odorous spices they perfumed the place, +And mirth and pleasure shone in every face. + +Damian alone, of all the menial train, +Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh'd for pain; +Damian alone, the knight's obsequious squire, +Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire. 360 +His lovely mistress all his soul possess'd, +He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no rest: +His task perform'd, he sadly went his way, +Fell on his bed, and loath'd the light of day: +There let him lie; till his relenting dame +Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame. + +The weary sun, as learned poets write, +Forsook th' horizon, and roll'd down the light; +While glittering stars his absent beams supply. +And night's dark mantle overspread the sky. 370 +Then rose the guests, and, as the time required, +Each paid his thanks, and decently retired. + +The foe once gone, our knight prepared t' undress, +So keen he was, and eager to possess; +But first thought fit th' assistance to receive, +Which grave physicians scruple not to give: +Satyrion near, with hot eringoes stood, +Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood, +Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes, +And critics learn'd explain to modern times. 380 + +By this the sheets were spread, the bride undress'd, +The room was sprinkled, and the bed was bless'd. +What next ensued beseems not me to say; +'Tis sung, he labour'd till the dawning day, +Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light, +As all were nothing he had done by night, +And sipp'd his cordial as he sat upright. +He kiss'd his balmy spouse with wanton play, +And feebly sung a lusty roundelay: +Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast; 390 +For every labour must have rest at last. + +But anxious cares the pensive squire oppress'd, +Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast; +The raging flames that in his bosom dwell, +He wanted art to hide, and means to tell: +Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray, +Composed a sonnet to the lovely May; +Which, writ and folded with the nicest art, +He wrapp'd in silk, and laid upon his heart. + +When now the fourth revolving day was run, 400 +('Twas June, and Cancer had received the sun), +Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride; +The good old knight moved slowly by her side. +High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall; +The servants round stood ready at their call +The squire alone was absent from the board, +And much his sickness grieved his worthy lord, +Who pray'd his spouse, attended with her train, +To visit Damian, and divert his pain. +Th' obliging dames obey'd with one consent: 410 +They left the hall, and to his lodging went. +The female tribe surround him as he lay, +And close beside him sat the gentle May: +Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drew +A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view! +Then gave his bill, and bribed the Powers divine +With secret vows, to favour his design. + +Who studies now but discontented May? +On her soft couch uneasily she lay: 420 +The lumpish husband snored away the night, +Till coughs awaked him near the morning light. +What then he did, I'll not presume to tell, +Nor if she thought herself in heaven or hell: +Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay, +Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray. + +Were it by forceful destiny decreed, +Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed; +Or that some star, with aspect kind to love, +Shed its selectest influence from above; +Whatever was the cause, the tender dame 430 +Felt the first motions of an infant flame; +Received th' impressions of the love-sick squire, +And wasted in the soft infectious fire. + +Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move +Your gentle minds to pity those who love! +Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found, +The poor adorer sure had hang'd or drown'd; +But she, your sex's mirror, free from pride, +Was much too meek to prove a homicide. + +But to my tale:--Some sages have defined 440 +Pleasure the sovereign bliss of humankind: +Our knight (who studied much, we may suppose) +Derived his high philosophy from those; +For, like a prince, he bore the vast expense +Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: +His house was stately, his retinue gay, +Large was his train, and gorgeous his array. +His spacious garden, made to yield to none, +Was compass'd round with walls of solid stone; +Priapus could not half describe the grace 450 +(Though god of gardens) of this charming place: +A place to tire the rambling wits of France +In long descriptions, and exceed romance: +Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings +Of painted meadows, and of purling springs. + +Full in the centre of the flowery ground +A crystal fountain spread its streams around, +The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd. +About this spring (if ancient fame say true) +The dapper elves their moonlight sports pursue: 460 +Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen, +In circling dances gamboll'd on the green, +While tuneful sprites a merry concert made, +And airy music warbled through the shade. + +Hither the noble knight would oft repair, +(His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care): +For this he held it dear, and always bore +The silver key that lock'd the garden door. +To this sweet place, in summer's sultry heat, +He used from noise and business to retreat: 470 +And here in dalliance spend the livelong day, +_Solus cum sola_, with his sprightly May: +For whate'er work was undischarged abed, +The duteous knight in this fair garden sped. + +But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure? +How short a space our worldly joys endure! +O Fortune! fair, like all thy treacherous kind, +But faithless still, and wavering as the wind! +O painted monster, form'd mankind to cheat +With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit! 480 +This rich, this amorous, venerable knight, +Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight, +Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief, +And calls on death, the wretch's last relief. + +The rage of jealousy then seized his mind, +For much he fear'd the faith of womankind. +His wife, not suffer'd from his side to stray, +Was captive kept; he watch'd her night and day, +Abridged her pleasures, and confined her sway. +Full oft in tears did hapless May complain, 490 +And sigh'd full oft; but sigh'd and wept in vain: +She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye; +For oh, 'twas fix'd; she must possess or die! +Nor less impatience vex'd her amorous squire, +Wild with delay, and burning with desire. +Watch'd as she was, yet could he not refrain +By secret writing to disclose his pain; +The dame by signs reveal'd her kind intent, +Till both were conscious what each other meant. + +Ah! gentle knight, what would thy eyes avail, 500 +Though they could see as far as ships can sail? +'Tis better, sure, when blind, deceived to be, +Than be deluded when a man can see! + +Argus himself, so cautious and so wise, +Was overwatch'd, for all his hundred eyes: +So many an honest husband may, 'tis known, +Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own. + +The dame at last, by diligence and care, +Procured the key her knight was wont to bear; +She took the wards in wax before the fire, 510 +And gave th' impression to the trusty squire. +By means of this some wonder shall appear, +Which, in due place and season, you may hear. +Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of yore, +What slight is that which love will not explore? +And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show +The feats true lovers, when they list, can do: +Though watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all, +They found the art of kissing through a wall. + +But now no longer from our tale to stray; 520 +It happ'd, that once, upon a summer's day, +Our reverend knight was urged to amorous play; +He raised his spouse ere matin-bell was rung, +And thus his morning canticle he sung: + +'Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes! +Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise! +Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain, +And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain: +The winter's past; the clouds and tempests fly; +The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky. 530 +Fair without spot, whose every charming part +My bosom wounds, and captivates my heart! +Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage, +Joy of my life, and comfort of my age!' + +This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made +To haste before; the gentle squire obey'd: +Secret and undescried he took his way, +And, ambush'd close, behind an arbour lay. + +It was not long ere January came, +And hand in hand with him his lovely dame; 540 +Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure, +He turn'd the key, and made the gate secure. + +'Here let us walk,' he said, 'observed by none, +Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown: +So may my soul have joy, as thou, my wife, +Art far the dearest solace of my life; +And rather would I choose, by heaven above! +To die this instant, than to lose thy love. +Reflect what truth was in my passion shown, +When, unendow'd, I took thee for my own, 550 +And sought no treasure but thy heart alone. +Old as I am, and now deprived of sight, +Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true knight, +Nor age, nor blindness rob me of delight. +Each other loss with patience I can bear, +The loss of thee is what I only fear. + +'Consider then, my lady, and my wife, +The solid comforts of a virtuous life. +As, first, the love of Christ himself you gain; +Next, your own honour undefiled maintain; 560 +And, lastly, that which sure your mind must move, +My whole estate shall gratify your love: +Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's sun +Displays his light, by heaven, it shall be done! +I seal the contract with a holy kiss, +And will perform, by this--my dear, and this-- +Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy lord unkind; +'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind! +For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage, +And join'd to them my own unequal age, 570 +From thy dear side I have no power to part, +Such secret transports warm my melting heart. +For who that once possess'd those heavenly charms, +Could live one moment absent from thy arms?' + +He ceased, and May with modest grace replied, +(Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cried): +'Heaven knows (with that a tender sigh she drew) +I have a soul to save as well as you; +And, what no less you to my charge commend, +My dearest honour will to death defend. 580 +To you in holy church I gave my hand, +And join'd my heart in wedlock's sacred band: +Yet after this, if you distrust my care, +Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear: + +'First may the yawning earth her bosom rend, +And let me hence to hell alive descend; +Or die the death I dread no less than hell, +Sew'd in a sack, and plunged into a well, +Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace, +Or once renounce the honour of my race. 590 +For know, sir knight, of gentle blood I came; +I loathe a whore, and startle at the name. +But jealous men on their own crimes reflect, +And learn from thence their ladies to suspect: +Else why these heedless cautions, sir, to me +These doubts and fears of female constancy +This chime still rings in every lady's ear, +The only strain a wife must hope to hear.' + +Thus while she spoke a sidelong glance she cast, +Where Damian, kneeling, worshipp'd as she pass'd. 600 +She saw him watch the motions of her eye, +And singled out a pear-tree planted nigh: +'Twas charged with fruit that made a goodly show, +And hung with dangling pears was every bough. +Thither th' obsequious squire address'd his pace, +And, climbing, in the summit took his place; +The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view, +Where let us leave them and our tale pursue. + +'Twas now the season when the glorious sun +His heavenly progress through the Twins had run; 610 +And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields, +To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields: +Clear was the day, and Phoebus, rising bright, +Had streak'd the azure firmament with light; +He pierced the glittering clouds with golden streams, +And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams. + +It so befell, in that fair morning tide, +The fairies sported on the garden side, +And in the midst their monarch and his bride. +So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round, 620 +The knights so nimbly o'er the greensward bound, +That scarce they bent the flowers or touch'd the ground. +The dances ended, all the fairy train +For pinks and daisies search'd the flowery plain; +While on a bank reclined of rising green, +Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen: + +''Tis too apparent, argue what you can, +The treachery you women use to man: +A thousand authors have this truth made out, +And sad experience leaves no room for doubt. 630 + +'Heaven rest thy spirit, noble Solomon! +A wiser monarch never saw the sun: +All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree +Of earthly bliss, was well bestow'd on thee! +For sagely hast thou said, Of all mankind, +One only just, and righteous, hope to find: +But shouldst thou search the spacious world around, +Yet one good woman is not to be found. + +'Thus says the king, who knew your wickedness; +The son of Sirach testifies no less. 640 +So may some wild-fire on your bodies fall, +Or some devouring plague consume you all; +As well you view the lecher in the tree, +And well this honourable knight you see: +But, since he's blind and old (a helpless case), +His squire shall cuckold him before your face. + +'Now by my own dread majesty I swear, +And by this awful sceptre which I bear, +No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd long, +That in my presence offers such a wrong. 650 +I will this instant undeceive the knight, +And in the very act restore his sight: +And set the strumpet here in open view, +A warning to these ladies, and to you, +And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.' + +'And will you so,' replied the queen, 'indeed? +Now, by my mother's soul, it is decreed, +She shall not want an answer at her need. +For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage, +And all the sex in each succeeding age; 660 +Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence, +And fortify their crimes with confidence. +Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace, +Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place; +All they shall need is to protest and swear, +Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear; +Till their wise husbands, gull'd by arts like these, +Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese. + +'What though this slanderous Jew, this Solomon, +Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; 670 +The wiser wits of later times declare +How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are: +Witness the martyrs who resign'd their breath, +Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death; +And witness next what Roman authors tell, +How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell. + +'But since the sacred leaves to all are free, +And men interpret texts, why should not we? +By this no more was meant than to have shown +That sovereign goodness dwells in Him alone, 680 +Who only Is, and is but only One. +But grant the worst; shall women then be weigh'd +By every word that Solomon hath said +What though this king (as ancient story boasts) +Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts; +He ceased at last his Maker to adore, +And did as much for idol gods, or more. +Beware what lavish praises you confer +On a rank lecher and idolater; +Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ, 690 +Did but for David's righteous sake permit; +David the monarch after Heaven's own mind, +Who loved our sex, and honour'd all our kind. + +'Well, I'm a woman, and as such must speak; +Silence would swell me, and my heart would break. +Know, then, I scorn your dull authorities, +Your idle wits, and all their learned lies: +By heaven, those authors are our sex's foes, +Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose!' + +'Nay,' quoth the king, 'dear madam, be not wroth; 700 +I yield it up; but since I gave my oath, +That this much-injured knight again should see; +It must be done--I am a king,' said he, +'And one whose faith has ever sacred been--' + +'And so has mine' (she said)--'I am a queen: +Her answer she shall have, I undertake; +And thus an end of all dispute I make. +Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord, +It is not in our sex to break our word.' + +We leave them here in this heroic strain, 710 +And to the knight our story turns again; +Who in the garden, with his lovely May, +Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: +This was his song, 'Oh kind and constant be; +Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.' + +Thus singing as he went, at last he drew +By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew: +The longing dame look'd up, and spied her love +Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above. +She stopp'd, and sighing, 'O good gods!' she cried, 720 +'What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side +Oh for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green; +Help, for the love of heaven's immortal queen! +Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life +Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!' + +Sore sigh'd the knight to hear his lady's cry, +But could not climb, and had no servant nigh: +Old as he was, and void of eyesight too, +What could, alas! a helpless husband do? +'And must I languish, then, (she said), and die, 730 +Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye? +At least, kind sir, for charity's sweet sake, +Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take; +Then from your back I might ascend the tree; +Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.' + +'With all my soul,' he thus replied again, +'I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.' +With that his back against the trunk he bent; +She seized a twig, and up the tree she went. + +Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all! 740 +Nor let on me your heavy anger fall: +'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refined; +Though blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind. +What feats the lady in the tree might do, +I pass, as gambols never known to you; +But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore, +Than in her life she ever felt before. + +In that nice moment, lo! the wondering knight +Look'd out, and stood restored to sudden sight. +Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, 750 +As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent; +But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress'd, +His rage was such as cannot be express'd: +Not frantic mothers, when their infants die, +With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: +He cried, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair: +'Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there?' + +'What ails my lord?' the trembling dame replied, +'I thought your patience had been better tried: +Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, 760 +This my reward for having cured the blind? +Why was I taught to make my husband see, +By struggling with a man upon a tree +Did I for this the power of magic prove? +Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!' + +'If this be struggling, by this holy light, +'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth the knight): +So Heaven preserve the sight it has restored, +As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored; +Whored by my slave--perfidious wretch! may hell 770 +As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.' + +'Guard me, good angels!' cried the gentle May, +'Pray heaven this magic work the proper way! +Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see, +You ne'er had used these killing words to me: +So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight, +But some faint glimmering of a doubtful light.' + +'What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain, +For by th' immortal powers it seem'd too plain--' + +'By all those powers, some frenzy seized your mind 780 +(Replied the dame), are these the thanks I find? +Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!' +She said; a rising sigh express'd her woe, +The ready tears apace began to flow, +And, as they fell, she wiped from either eye +The drops (for women, when they list, can cry). + +The knight was touch'd; and in his looks appear'd +Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer'd: +'Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er! +Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 +Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said, +For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made: +Let my repentance your forgiveness draw; +By heaven, I swore but what I _thought_ I saw.' + +'Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind (she cried) +On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. +But, till your sight's establish'd, for a while, +Imperfect objects may your sense beguile. +Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display, +The balls are wounded with the piercing ray, 800 +And dusky vapours rise and intercept the day; +So, just recovering from the shades of night, +Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light, +Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight. +Then, sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; +Heaven knows how seldom things are what they seem! +Consult your reason, and you soon shall find +'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind: +Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this, +None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.' 810 + +With that she leap'd into her lord's embrace, +With well-dissembled virtue in her face. +He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er, +Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no more: +Both, pleased and bless'd, renew'd their mutual vows: +A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse. + +Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make, +Let all wise husbands hence example take; +And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives, +To be so well deluded by their wives. 820 + + + + +THE WIFE OF BATH, HER PROLOGUE. + +FROM CHAUCER. + +Behold the woes of matrimonial life, +And hear with reverence an experienced wife! +To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due, +And think, for once, a woman tells you true. +In all these trials I have borne a part: +I was myself the scourge that caused the smart; +For, since fifteen, in triumph have I led +Five captive husbands from the church to bed. + +Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says, +And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days; 10 +Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice, +No pious Christian ought to marry twice. + +But let them read, and solve me if they can, +The words address'd to the Samaritan; +Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd, +And sure the certain stint was ne'er defined. + +'Increase and multiply' was Heaven's command, +And that's a text I clearly understand: +This, too, 'Let men their sires and mothers leave, +And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.' 20 +More wives than one by Solomon were tried, +Or else the wisest of mankind's belied. +I've had myself full many a merry fit, +And trust in heaven I may have many yet; +For when my transitory spouse, unkind, +Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, +I'll take the next good Christian I can find. + +Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn, +Declared 'twas better far to wed than burn. +There's danger in assembling fire and tow; 30 +I grant 'em that; and what it means you know. +The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own'd +No precept for virginity he found: +'Tis but a counsel--and we women still +Take which we like, the counsel or our will. + +I envy not their bliss, if he or she +Think fit to live in perfect chastity: +Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice; +I for a few slight spots am not so nice. +Heaven calls us different ways; on these bestows 40 +One proper gift, another grants to those; +Not every man's obliged to sell his store, +And give up all his substance to the poor: +Such as are perfect may, I can't deny; +But, by your leaves, divines! so am not I. + +Full many a saint, since first the world began, +Lived an unspotted maid in spite of man: +Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed, +And let us honest wives eat barley bread. +For me, I'll keep the post assign'd by heaven, 50 +And use the copious talent it has given: +Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right, +And keep an equal reckoning every night; +His proper body is not his, but mine; +For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound divine. + +Know then, of those five husbands I have had, +Three were just tolerable, two were bad. +The three were old, but rich and fond beside, +And toil'd most piteously to please their bride; +But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine, 60 +The rest, without much loss, I could resign: +Sure to be loved, I took no pains to please, +Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease. + +Presents flow'd in apace: with showers of gold +They made their court, like Jupiter of old: +If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found, +And a new palsy seized them when I frown'd. +Ye sovereign wives! give ear, and understand: +Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command; +For never was it given to mortal man 70 +To lie so boldly as we women can: +Forswear the fact, though seen with both his eyes, +And call your maids to witness how he lies. + +Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I used to say) +Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and gay +Treated, caress'd, where'er she's pleased to roam-- +I sit in tatters, and immured at home. +Why to her house dost thou so oft repair? +Art thou so amorous? and is she so fair? +If I but see a cousin or a friend, 80 +Lord! how you swell and rage, like any fiend! +But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, +Then preach till midnight in your easy chair; +Cry, Wives are false, and every woman evil, +And give up all that's female to the devil. +If poor (you say), she drains her husband's purse; +If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse; +If highly born, intolerably vain, +Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain; +Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 90 +Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick: +If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide, +By pressing youth attack'd on every side; +If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures, +Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, +Or else she dances with becoming grace, +Or shape excuses the defects of face. +There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late +She finds some honest gander for her mate. + +Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may try, 100 +And ring suspected vessels ere they buy; +But wives, a random choice, untried they take, +They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake; +Then, nor till then, the veil's removed away, +And all the woman glares in open day. + +You tell me, to preserve your wife's good grace, +Your eyes must always languish on my face, +Your tongue with constant flatteries feed my ear, +And tag each sentence with 'My life! My dear!' +If, by strange chance, a modest blush be raised, 110 +Be sure my fine complexion must be praised. +My garments always must be new and gay, +And feasts still kept upon my wedding day. +Then must my nurse be pleased, and favourite maid: +And endless treats and endless visits paid +To a long train of kindred, friends, allies: +All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are lies. + +On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye: +What! can your 'prentice raise your jealousy? +Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair, 120 +And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair. +But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow, +I'd scorn your 'prentice should you die to-morrow. + +Why are thy chests all lock'd? on what design? +Are not thy worldly goods and treasures mine? +Sir, I'm no fool; nor shall you, by St John, +Have goods and body to yourself alone. +One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes-- +I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies. +If you had wit, you'd say, 'Go where you will, 130 +Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell: +Take all the freedoms of a married life; +I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.' + +Lord! when you have enough, what need you care +How merrily soever others fare? +Though all the day I give and take delight, +Doubt not, sufficient will be left at night. +'Tis but a just and rational desire +To light a taper at a neighbour's fire. +There's danger too, you think, in rich array, 140 +And none can long be modest that are gay. +The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin, +The chimney keeps, and sits content within: +But once grown sleek, will from her corner run, +Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun: +She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad +To show her fur, and to be catterwaw'd. + +Lo! thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires +These three right ancient venerable sires. +I told 'em, Thus you say, and thus you do; 150 +And told 'em false, but Jenkin swore 'twas true. +I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine, +And first complain'd whene'er the guilt was mine. +I tax'd them oft with wenching and amours, +When their weak legs scarce dragg'd them out of doors +And swore, the rambles that I took by night +Were all to spy what damsels they bedight: +That colour brought me many hours of mirth; +For all this wit is given us from our birth. +Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace 160 +To spin, to weep, and cully human race. +By this nice conduct and this prudent course, +By murmuring, wheedling, stratagem, and force, +I still prevail'd, and would be in the right, +Or curtain lectures made a restless night. +If once my husband's arm was o'er my side, +'What! so familiar with your spouse?' I cried: +I levied first a tax upon his need; +Then let him--'twas a nicety indeed! +Let all mankind this certain maxim hold; 170 +Marry who will, our sex is to be sold. +With empty hands no tassels you can lure, +But fulsome love for gain we can endure; +For gold we love the impotent and old, +And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold. +Yet with embraces curses oft I mix'd, +Then kiss'd again, and chid, and rail'd betwixt. +Well, I may make my will in peace, and die, +For not one word in man's arrears am I. +To drop a dear dispute I was unable, 180 +E'en though the Pope himself had sat at table: +But when my point was gain'd, then thus I spoke: +'Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look! +Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek; +Thou shouldst be always thus, resign'd and meek! +Of Job's great patience since so oft you preach, +Well should you practise who so well can teach. +'Tis difficult to do, I must allow, +But I, my dearest! will instruct you how. +Great is the blessing of a prudent wife, 190 +Who puts a period to domestic strife. +One of us two must rule, and one obey; +And since in man right reason bears the sway, +Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way. +The wives of all my family have ruled +Their tender husbands, and their passions cool'd. +Fye! 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan: +What! would you have me to yourself alone? +Why, take me, love! take all and every part! +Here's your revenge! you love it at your heart. 200 +Would I vouchsafe to sell what nature gave, +You little think what custom I could have. +But see! I'm all your own--nay, hold--for shame! +What means my dear?--indeed, you are to blame.' + +Thus with my first three lords I pass'd my life, +A very woman, and a very wife. +What sums from these old spouses I could raise, +Procured young husbands in my riper days. +Though past my bloom, not yet decay'd was I, +Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie. 210 +In country-dances still I bore the bell, +And sung as sweet as evening Philomel. +To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul, +Full oft I drain'd the spicy nut-brown bowl; +Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve, +And warm the swelling veins to feats of love: +For 'tis as sure as cold engenders hail, +A liquorish mouth must have a lecherous tail: +Wine lets no lover unrewarded go, +As all true gamesters by experience know. 220 + +But oh, good gods! whene'er a thought I cast +On all the joys of youth and beauty past, +To find in pleasures I have had my part, +Still warms me to the bottom of my heart. +This wicked world was once my dear delight; +Now, all my conquests, all my charms, good night! +The flour consumed, the best that now I can +Is e'en to make my market of the bran. + +My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true; +He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two: 230 +But all that score I paid--As how? you'll say, +Not with my body, in a filthy way; +But I so dress'd, and danced, and drank, and dined, +And view'd a friend with eyes so very kind, +As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry, +With burning rage and frantic jealousy +His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory, +For here on earth I was his purgatory. +Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung, +He put on careless airs, and sat and sung. 240 +How sore I gall'd him only heaven could know, +And he that felt, and I that caused the woe: +He died, when last from pilgrimage I came, +With other gossips from Jerusalem, +And now lies buried underneath a rood, +Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood: +A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures graced +Than that Mausolus' pious widow placed, +Or where enshrined the great Darius lay; +But cost on graves is merely thrown away. 250 +The pit fill'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er; +So bless the good man's soul! I say no more. + +Now for my fifth loved lord, the last and best; +(Kind heaven afford him everlasting rest!) +Full hearty was his love, and I can show +The tokens on my ribs in black and blue; +Yet with a knack my heart he could have won, +While yet the smart was shooting in the bone. +How quaint an appetite in woman reigns! +Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us pains: 260 +Let men avoid us, and on them we leap; +A glutted market makes provisions cheap. + +In pure goodwill I took this jovial spark, +Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk. +He boarded with a widow in the town, +A trusty gossip, one dame Alison; +Full well the secrets of my soul she knew, +Better than e'er our parish priest could do. +To her I told whatever could befall: +Had but my husband piss'd against a wall, 270 +Or done a thing that might have cost his life, +She--and my niece--and one more worthy wife, +Had known it all: what most he would conceal, +To these I made no scruple to reveal. +Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame +That e'er he told a secret to his dame. + +It so befell, in holy time of Lent, +That oft a day I to this gossip went; +(My husband, thank my stars, was out of town) +From house to house we rambled up and down, 280 +This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour, Alse, +To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales. +Visits to every church we daily paid, +And march'd in every holy masquerade; +The stations duly, and the vigils kept; +Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept. +At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: +The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best array; +The cause was this, I wore it every day. + +'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields, 290 +This clerk and I were walking in the fields. +We grew so intimate, I can't tell how, +I pawn'd my honour, and engaged my vow, +If e'er I laid my husband in his urn, +That he, and only he, should serve my turn. +We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed; +I still have shifts against a time of need: +The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole +Can never be a mouse of any soul. + +I vow'd I scarce could sleep since first I knew him, 300 +And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him +If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone, +And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown: +All this I said; but dreams, sirs, I had none: +I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore, +Who bid me tell this lie--and twenty more. + +Thus day by day, and month by mouth we pass'd; +It pleased the Lord to take my spouse at last. +I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust, +And beat my breasts, as wretched widows must. 310 +Before my face my handkerchief I spread, +To hide the flood of tears I did not shed. +The good man's coffin to the church was borne; +Around, the neighbours, and my clerk, too, mourn: +But as he march'd, good gods! he show'd a pair +Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair! +Of twenty winters' age he seem'd to be; +I (to say truth) was twenty more than he; +But vigorous still, a lively buxom dame, +And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame. 320 +A conjuror once, that deeply could divine, +Assured me Mars in Taurus was my sign. +As the stars order'd, such my life has been: +Alas, alas! that ever love was sin! +Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace, +And Mars assurance and a dauntless face. +By virtue of this powerful constellation, +I follow'd always my own inclination. + +But to my tale: A month scarce pass'd away, +With dance and song we kept the nuptial day. 330 +All I possess'd I gave to his command, +My goods and chattels, money, house, and land; +But oft repented, and repent it still; +He proved a rebel to my sovereign will; +Nay, once, by heaven! he struck me on the face; +Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case. + +Stubborn as any lioness was I, +And knew full well to raise my voice on high; +As true a rambler as I was before, +And would be so in spite of all he swore. 340 +He against this right sagely would advise, +And old examples set before my eyes; +Tell how the Roman matrons led their life, +Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife; +And close the sermon, as beseem'd his wit, +With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ. +Oft would he say, 'Who builds his house on sands, +Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands; +Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam, +Deserves a fool's cap and long ears at home.' 350 +All this avail'd not, for whoe'er he be +That tells my faults, I hate him mortally! +And so do numbers more, I'll boldly say, +Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay. + +My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred) +A certain treatise oft at evening read, +Where divers authors (whom the devil confound +For all their lies) were in one volume bound: +Valerius whole, and of St Jerome part; +Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art, 360 +Solomon's Proverbs, Eloisa's Loves, +And many more than, sure, the Church approves. +More legends were there here of wicked wives +Than good in all the Bible and saints' lives. +Who drew the lion vanquish'd? 'Twas a man: +But could we women write as scholars can, +Men should stand mark'd with far more wickedness +Than all the sons of Adam could redress. +Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, +And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise. 370 +Those play the scholars who can't play the men, +And use that weapon which they have, their pen: +When old, and past the relish of delight, +Then down they sit, and in their dotage write, +That not one woman keeps her marriage-vow. +(This by the way, but to my purpose now:) + +It chanced my husband, on a winter's night, +Read in this book aloud with strange delight, +How the first female (as the Scriptures show) +Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe; 380 +How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire +Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd shirt, and set on fire; +How cursed Eriphyle her lord betray'd, +And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid; +But what most pleased him was the Cretan dame +And husband-bull--Oh, monstrous! fye, for shame! + +He had by heart the whole detail of woe +Xantippe made her good man undergo; +How oft she scolded in a day he knew, +How many pisspots on the sage she threw; 390 +Who took it patiently, and wiped his head: +'Rain follows thunder,' that was all he said. + +He read how Arius to his friend complain'd +A fatal tree was growing in his land, +On which three wives successively had twined +A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. +'Where grows this plant,' replied the friend, 'oh! where? +For better fruit did never orchard bear: +Give me some slip of this most blissful tree, +And in my garden planted it shall be!' 400 + +Then how two wives their lords' destruction prove, +Through hatred one, and one through too much love; +That for her husband mix'd a poisonous draught, +And this for lust an amorous philtre bought: +The nimble juice soon seized his giddy head, +Frantic at night, and in the morning dead. + +How some with swords their sleeping lords have slain, +And some have hammer'd nails into their brain, +And some have drench'd them with a deadly potion: +All this he read, and read with great devotion. 410 + +Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, and frown'd; +But when no end of these vile tales I found, +When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again, +And half the night was thus consumed in vain, +Provoked to vengeance, three large leaves I tore, +And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor. +With that my husband in a fury rose, +And down he settled me with hearty blows. +I groan'd, and lay extended on my side; +'Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth!' I cried, 420 +'Yet I forgive thee--take my last embrace--' +He wept, kind soul! and stoop'd to kiss my face: +I took him such a box as turn'd him blue, +Then sigh'd, and cried, 'Adieu, my dear, adieu!' + +But after many a hearty struggle past, +I condescended to be pleased at last. +Soon as he said, 'My mistress and my wife! +Do what you list the term of all your life,' +I took to heart the merits of the cause, +And stood content to rule by wholesome laws; 430 +Received the reins of absolute command, +With all the government of house and land, +And empire o'er his tongue and o'er his hand. +As for the volume that reviled the dames, +'Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames. + +Now, Heaven, on all my husbands gone bestow +Pleasures above for tortures felt below: +That rest they wish'd for, grant them in the grave, +And bless those souls my conduct help'd to save! + + + + +PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUES + + + +A PROLOGUE + +TO A PLAY FOR MR DENNIS'S BENEFIT, IN 1733, WHEN HE WAS OLD, BLIND, AND +IN GREAT DISTRESS, A LITTLE BEFORE HIS DEATH. + +As when that hero, who, in each campaign, +Had braved the Goth, and many a Vandal slain, +Lay fortune-struck, a spectacle of woe! +Wept by each friend, forgiven by every foe: +Was there a generous, a reflecting mind, +But pitied Belisarius, old and blind? +Was there a chief but melted at the sight? +A common soldier, but who clubb'd his mite? +Such, such emotions should in Britons rise, +When press'd by want and weakness Dennis lies; 10 +Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns, +Their quibbles routed, and defied their puns; +A desperate bulwark, sturdy, firm, and fierce, +Against the Gothic sons of frozen verse: +How changed from him who made the boxes groan, +And shook the stage with thunders all his own! +Stood up to dash each vain pretender's hope, +Maul the French tyrant, or pull down the Pope! +If there's a Briton then, true bred and born, +Who holds dragoons and wooden shoes in scorn; 20 +If there's a critic of distinguished rage; +If there's a senior who contemns this age: +Let him to night his just assistance lend, +And be the critic's, Briton's, old man's friend. + + + +PROLOGUE TO MR ADDISON'S 'CATO.' + +To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, +To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; +To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, +Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold: +For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage, +Commanding tears to stream through every age; +Tyrants no more their savage nature kept, +And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept. +Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move +The hero's glory, or the virgin's love; 10 +In pitying love, we but our weakness show, +And wild ambition well deserves its woe. +Here tears shall flow from a more generous cause, +Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws: +He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise, +And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes. +Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws, +What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was: +No common object to your sight displays, +But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys, 20 +A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, +And greatly falling with a falling state. +While Cato gives his little senate laws, +What bosom beats not in his country's cause? +Who sees him act, but envies every deed? +Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed? +E'en when proud Caesar, 'midst triumphal cars, +The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars, +Ignobly vain, and impotently great, +Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state; 30 +As her dead father's reverend image pass'd, +The pomp was darkened, and the day o'ercast; +The triumph ceased, tears gush'd from every eye; +The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by; +Her last good man dejected Rome adored, +And honour'd Caesar's less than Cato's sword. + +Britons, attend: be worth like this approved, +And show you have the virtue to be moved. +With honest scorn the first famed Cato view'd +Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdued: 40 +Your scene precariously subsists too long +On French translation and Italian song. +Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage, +Be justly warm'd with your own native rage: +Such plays alone should win a British ear, +As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear. + + + +PROLOGUE TO THOMSON'S 'SOPHONISBA.'[59] + +When Learning, after the long Gothic night, +Fair, o'er the western world, renew'd its light, +With arts arising, Sophonisba rose; +The tragic Muse, returning, wept her woes. +With her th' Italian scene first learn'd to glow, +And the first tears for her were taught to flow: +Her charms the Gallic Muses next inspired; +Corneille himself saw, wonder'd, and was fired. + +What foreign theatres with pride have shown, +Britain, by juster title, makes her own. 10 +When freedom is the cause, 'tis hers to fight, +And hers, when freedom is the theme, to write. +For this a British author bids again +The heroine rise, to grace the British scene: +Here, as in life, she breathes her genuine flame, +She asks, What bosom has not felt the same? +Asks of the British youth--is silence there? +She dares to ask it of the British fair. +To-night our homespun author would be true, +At once to nature, history, and you. 20 +Well pleased to give our neighbours due applause, +He owns their learning, but disdains their laws; +Not to his patient touch, or happy flame, +'Tis to his British heart he trusts for fame. +If France excel him in one freeborn thought, +The man, as well as poet, is in fault. +Nature! informer of the poet's art, +Whose force alone can raise or melt the heart, +Thou art his guide; each passion, every line, +Whate'er he draws to please, must all be thine. 30 +Be thou his judge: in every candid breast +Thy silent whisper is the sacred test. + + + +PROLOGUE, DESIGNED FOR MR D'URFEY'S LAST PLAY. + +Grown old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard +Your persevering, unexhausted bard; +Damnation follows death in other men, +But your damn'd poet lives and writes again. +The adventurous lover is successful still, +Who strives to please the fair against her will: +Be kind, and make him in his wishes easy, +Who in your own despite has strove to please ye. +He scorn'd to borrow from the wits of yore, +But ever writ, as none e'er writ before. 10 +You modern wits, should each man bring his claim, +Have desperate debentures on your fame; +And little would be left you, I'm afraid, +If all your debts to Greece and Rome were paid. +From this deep fund our author largely draws, +Nor sinks his credit lower than it was. +Though plays for honour in old time he made, +'Tis now for better reasons--to be paid. +Believe him, he has known the world too long, +And seen the death of much immortal song. 20 +He says, poor poets lost, while players won, +As pimps grow rich, while gallants are undone. +Though Tom the poet writ with ease and pleasure, +The comic Tom abounds in other treasure. +Fame is at best an unperforming cheat; +But 'tis substantial happiness to eat. +Let ease, his last request, be of your giving, +Nor force him to be damn'd to get his living. + + + +PROLOGUE TO 'THE THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE' + +Authors are judged by strange capricious rules; +The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: +Yet sure the best are most severely fated; +For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated. +Blockheads with reason men of sense abhor; +But fool 'gainst fool, is barbarous civil war. +Why on all authors, then, should critics fall? +Since some have writ, and shown no wit at all. +Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade it; +Cry, 'Damn not us, but damn the French, who made it.' 10 +By running goods these graceless owlers gain; +Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain; +But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought, +Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common draught. +They pall Moliere's and Lopez' sprightly strain, +And teach dull harlequins to grin in vain. + +How shall our author hope a gentler fate, +Who dares most impudently not translate? +It had been civil, in these ticklish times, +To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes; 20 +Spaniards and French abuse to the world's end, +But spare old England, lest you hurt a friend. +If any fool is by our satire bit, +Let him hiss loud, to show you all he's hit. +Poets make characters, as salesmen clothes; +We take no measure of your fops and beaux; +But here all sizes and all shapes you meet, +And fit yourselves, like chaps in Monmouth Street. + +Gallants, look here! this fool's cap[60] has an air, 30 +Goodly and smart, with ears of Issachar. +Let no one fool engross it, or confine +A common blessing: now 'tis yours, now mine. +But poets in all ages had the care +To keep this cap for such as will, to wear. +Our author has it now (for every wit +Of course resign'd it to the next that writ) +And thus upon the stage 'tis fairly thrown;[61] +Let him that takes it wear it as his own. + + + +EPILOGUE TO MR ROWE'S 'JANE SHORE.' + +DESIGNED FOR MRS OLDFIELD. + +Prodigious this! the frail one of our play +From her own sex should mercy find to-day! +You might have held the pretty head aside, +Peep'd in your fans, been serious thus, and cried-- +'The play may pass--but that strange creature, Shore, +I can't--indeed now--I so hate a whore--' +Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull, +And thanks his stars he was not born a fool; +So from a sister sinner you shall hear, +'How strangely you expose yourself, my dear!' 10 +But let me die, all raillery apart, +Our sex are still forgiving at their heart; +And, did not wicked custom so contrive, +We'd be the best good-natured things alive. + +There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale, +That virtuous ladies envy while they rail; +Such rage without, betrays the fire within; +In some close corner of the soul they sin; +Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice, +Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice. 20 +The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns, +Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams. +Would you enjoy soft nights and solid dinners? +Faith, gallants, board with saints, and bed with sinners, + +Well, if our author in the wife offends, +He has a husband that will make amends; +He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving; +And sure such kind good creatures may be living. +In days of old, they pardon'd breach of vows, +Stern Cato's self was no relentless spouse: 30 +Plu--Plutarch, what's his name that writes his life? +Tells us, that Cato dearly loved his wife: +Yet if a friend, a night or so, should need her, +He'd recommend her as a special breeder. +To lend a wife, few here would scruple make; +But, pray, which of you all would take her back? +Though with the Stoic chief our stage may ring, +The Stoic husband was the glorious thing. +The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true, +And loved his country--but what's that to you? 40 +Those strange examples ne'er were made to fit ye, +But the kind cuckold might instruct the city: +There, many an honest man may copy Cato, +Who ne'er saw naked sword, or look'd in Plato. + +If, after all, you think it a disgrace, +That Edward's miss thus perks it in your face; +To see a piece of failing flesh and blood, +In all the rest so impudently good; +Faith, let the modest matrons of the town +Come here in crowds, and stare the strumpet down. 50 + + + + +MISCELLANIES + + + +THE BASSET-TABLE.[62] + +AN ECLOGUE. + +CARDELIA. + +The basset-table spread, the tallier come; +Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room? +Rise, pensive nymph, the tallier waits for you! + +SMILINDA. + +Ah, madam, since my Sharper is untrue, +I joyless make my once adored Alpeu. +I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair, +And whisper with that soft, deluding air, +And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listening fair. + +CARDELIA. + +Is this the cause of your romantic strains? +A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains. 10 +As you by love, so I by fortune cross'd, +One, one bad deal, three Septlevas have lost. + +SMILINDA. + +Is that the grief, which you compare with mine? +With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign: +Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone! +Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone. + +CARDELIA. + +A lover lost, is but a common care; +And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: +The Knave of Clubs thrice lost! Oh! who could guess +This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress? 20 + +SMILINDA. + +See Betty Lovet! very _apropos_ +She all the cares of love and play does know: +Dear Betty shall th' important point decide; +Betty, who oft the pain of each has tried; +Impartial, she shall say who suffers most, +By cards' ill usage, or by lovers lost. + +LOVET. + +Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, +Though time is precious, and I want some tea. + +CARDELIA. + +Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, +With fifty guineas (a great pen'orth) bought. 30 +See, on the tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive; +And both the struggling figures seem alive. +Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face; +A myrtle foliage round the thimble-case. +Jove, Jove himself, does on the scissors shine; +The metal, and the workmanship, divine! + +SMILINDA. + +This snuff-box,--once the pledge of Sharper's love, +When rival beauties for the present strove; +At Corticelli's he the raffle won; +Then first his passion was in public shown: 40 +Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside, +A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide. +This snuff-box,--on the hinge see brilliants shine: +This snuff-box will I stake; the prize is mine. + +CARDELIA. + +Alas! far lesser losses than I bear, +Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. +And oh! what makes the disappointment hard, +'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card. +In complaisance, I took the Queen he gave; +Though my own secret wish was for the Knave. 50 +The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose; +And the next pull, my Septleva I lose. + +SMILINDA. + +But ah! what aggravates the killing smart, +The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart; +This cursed Ombrelia, this undoing fair, +By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear; +She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears, +She owes to me the very charms she wears. +An awkward thing, when first she came to town; +Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown: 60 +She was my friend; I taught her first to spread +Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red: +I introduced her to the park and plays; +And, by my interest, Cozens made her stays. +Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert, +She dares to steal my favourite lover's heart. + +CARDELIA. + +Wretch that I was, how often have I swore, +When Winnall tallied, I would punt no more? +I know the bite, yet to my ruin run; +And see the folly, which I cannot shun. 70 + +SMILINDA. + +How many maids have Sharper's vows deceived? +How many cursed the moment they believed? +Yet his known falsehood could no warning prove: +Ah! what is warning to a maid in love? + +CARDELIA. + +But of what marble must that breast be form'd, +To gaze on basset, and remain unwarm'd? +When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are set in decent rank; +Exposed in glorious heaps the tempting bank, +Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train; +The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain: 80 +In bright confusion open rouleaus lie, +They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye. +Fired by the sight, all reason I disdain; +My passions rise, and will not bear the rein. +Look upon basset, you who reason boast, +And see if reason must not there be lost. + +SMILINDA. + +What more than marble must that heart compose, +Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows? +Then, when he trembles, when his blushes rise, +When awful love seems melting in his eyes! 90 +With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves: +He loves!--I whisper to myself--he loves! +Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears, +I lose all memory of my former fears; +My panting heart confesses all his charms, +I yield at once, and sink into his arms: +Think of that moment, you who prudence boast; +For such a moment, prudence well were lost. + +CARDELIA. + +At the groom-porter's, batter'd bullies play, +Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away. 100 +But who the bowl or rattling dice compares +To basset's heavenly joys, and pleasing cares? + +SMILINDA. + +Soft Simplicetta dotes upon a beau; +Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show. +Their several graces in my Sharper meet; +Strong as the footman, as the master sweet. + +LOVET. + +Cease your contention, which has been too long; +I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong. +Attend, and yield to what I now decide; +The equipage shall grace Smilinda's side: 110 +The snuff-box to Cardelia I decree. +Now leave complaining, and begin your tea. + + + +LINES + +ON RECEIVING FROM THE EIGHT HON. THE LADY FRANCES SHIRLEY[63] A STANDISH +AND TWO PENS. + +1 Yes, I beheld the Athenian queen + Descend in all her sober charms; + 'And take,' she said, and smiled serene, + 'Take at this hand celestial arms: + +2 'Secure the radiant weapons wield; + This golden lance shall guard desert; + And if a vice dares keep the field, + This steel shall stab it to the heart.' + +3 Awed, on my bended knees I fell, + Received the weapons of the sky; + And dipp'd them in the sable well, + The fount of fame or infamy. + +4 'What well? what weapon?' Flavia cries-- + 'A standish, steel, and golden pen! + It came from Bertrand's,[64] not the skies; + I gave it you to write again. + +5 'But, friend, take heed whom you attack; + You'll bring a house (I mean of peers) + Red, blue, and green, nay, white and black, + L---- and all about your ears. + +6 'You'd write as smooth again on glass, + And run, on ivory, so glib, + As not to stick at fool or ass,[65] + Nor stop at flattery or fib.[66] + +7 'Athenian queen! and sober charms! + I tell ye, fool, there's nothing in't: + 'Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms;[67] + In Dryden's Virgil see the print.[68] + +8 'Come, if you'll be a quiet soul, + That dares tell neither truth nor lies,[69] + I'll list you in the harmless roll + Of those that sing of these poor eyes.' + + + +VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU. + +UN JOUR DIT UN AUTEUR, ETC. + +Once (says an author--where I need not say) +Two travellers found an oyster in their way; +Both fierce, both hungry; the dispute grew strong, +While, scale in hand, Dame Justice pass'd along. +Before her each with clamour pleads the laws, +Explain'd the matter and would win the cause. +Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right, +Takes, opens, swallows it, before their sight. +The cause of strife removed so rarely well, +'There,--take' (says Justice) 'take ye each a shell. +We thrive at Westminster on fools like you: +'Twas a fat oyster--live in peace--adieu.' + + + +ANSWER TO THE FOLLOWING QUESTION OF MRS HOWE. + +What is prudery? + +'Tis a bledam, +Seen with wit and beauty seldom. +'Tis a fear that starts at shadows. +Tis, (no, 'tisn't) like Miss Meadows. +'Tis a virgin hard of feature, +Old, and void of all good-nature; +Lean and fretful; would seem wise; +Yet plays the fool before she dies. +'Tis an ugly, envious shrew, +That rails at dear Lepell and you. + + + +OCCASIONED BY SOME VERSES OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. + +Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends, +And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends, +Let crowds of critics now my verse assail, +Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail: +This more than pays whole years of thankless pain; +Time, health, and fortune are not lost in vain, +Sheffield approves, consenting Phoebus bends, +And I and Malice from this hour are friends. + + + +MACER: A CHARACTER. + +When simple Macer, now of high renown, +First sought a poet's fortune in the town, +'Twas all the ambition his high soul could feel, +To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele. +Some ends of verse his betters might afford, +And gave the harmless fellow a good word. +Set up with these, he ventured on the town, +And with a borrow'd play, out-did poor Crowne. +There he stopp'd short, nor since has writ a tittle, +But has the wit to make the most of little: 10 +Like stunted, hide-bound trees that just have got +Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot. +Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends, +Not of the wits, his foes, but fools, his friends. + +So some coarse country wench, almost decay'd, +Trudges to town, and first turns chambermaid; +Awkward and supple, each devoir to pay, +She flatters her good lady twice a-day; +Thought wondrous honest, though of mean degree, +And strangely liked for her simplicity: +In a translated suit, then tries the town, +With borrow'd pins, and patches not her own: +But just endured the winter she began, +And in four months a batter'd harridan. +Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk, +To bawd for others, and go shares with punk. + + + +SONG, + +BY A PERSON OF QUALITY, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1733. + +1 Fluttering, spread thy purple pinions, +Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart, +I a slave in thy dominions; +Nature must give way to art. + +2 Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, +Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, +See my weary days consuming, +All beneath yon flowery rocks. + +3 Thus the Cyprian goddess, weeping, +Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth: +Him the boar, in silence creeping, +Gored with unrelenting tooth. + +4 Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; +Fair Discretion, string the lyre; +Soothe my ever-waking slumbers: +Bright Apollo, lend thy choir. + +5 Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, +Arm'd in adamantine chains, +Lead me to the crystal mirrors, +Watering soft Elysian plains. + +6 Mournful cypress, verdant willow, +Gilding my Aurelia's brows, +Morpheus hovering o'er my pillow, +Hear me pay my dying vows. + +7 Melancholy smooth Maeander, +Swiftly purling in a round, +On thy margin lovers wander, +With thy flowery chaplets crown'd. + +8 Thus when Philomela, drooping, +Softly seeks her silent mate, +See the bird of Juno stooping; +Melody resigns to fate. + + + +ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT. + +1 I know the thing that's most uncommon; +(Envy be silent, and attend!) +I know a reasonable woman, +Handsome and witty, yet a friend. + +2 Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour, +Not grave through pride, or gay through folly, +An equal mixture of good humour, +And sensible soft melancholy. + +3 'Has she no faults, then (Envy says), sir?' +Yes, she has one, I must aver: +When all the world conspires to praise her, +The woman's deaf, and does not hear. + + + +ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKENHAM, + +COMPOSED OF MARBLES, SPARS, GEMS, ORES, AND MINERALS. + +Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave +Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave; +Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil, +And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill, +Unpolish'd gems no ray on pride bestow, +And latent metals innocently glow: +Approach! Great Nature studiously behold! +And eye the mine without a wish for gold. +Approach: but awful! lo! the Aegerian grot,[70] +Where, nobly-pensive, St John sate and thought; +Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole, +And the bright flame was shot through Marchmont's soul. +Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor, +Who dare to love their country, and be poor! + +VARIATIONS. + +After VER. 6, in the MS.-- + +Yon see that island's wealth, where, only free, +Earth to her entrails feels not tyranny. + +--i.e. Britain is the only place on the globe which feels not tyranny +even to its very entrails. Alluding to the condemnation of criminals to +the mines, one of the inflictions of civil justice in most countries--W. + +VER. 11, in MS. it was thus-- + +To Wyndham's breast the patriot passions stole. + + + +ROXANA, OR THE DRAWING-ROOM. + +AN ECLOGUE. + +Roxana, from the Court returning late, +Sigh'd her soft sorrow at St James's gate: +Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast, +Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd: +They curse the cruel weight they're doom'd to bear; +She in more gentle sounds express'd her care. + +'Was it for this, that I these roses wear? +For this, new-set the jewels for my hair? +Ah, Princess! with what zeal have I pursued! +Almost forgot the duty of a prude. 10 +This king I never could attend too soon; +I miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon. +For thee, ah! what for thee did I resign? +My passions, pleasures, all that e'er was mine: +I've sacrificed both modesty and ease; +Left operas, and went to filthy plays: +_Double-entendres_ shock'd my tender ear; +Yet even this, for thee, I chose to bear: +In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay, +And every joy of life before me lay; 20 +By honour prompted, and by pride restrain'd, +The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd: +Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe +Censured my neighbours, and said daily prayer. +Alas, how changed! with this same sermon-mien, +The filthy _What-d'ye-call-it_[71]--I have seen. +Ah, royal Princess! for whose sake I lost +The reputation, which so dear had cost; +I, who avoided every public place, +When bloom and beauty bid me show my face, 30 +Now near thee, constant, I each night abide, +With never-failing duty, by thy side; +Myself and daughters standing in a row, +To all the foreigners a goodly show. +Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin, +And merchants' wives close by your side had been, +Had I not amply fill'd the empty place, +And saved your Highness from the dire disgrace: +Yet Cockatilla's artifice prevails, +When all my duty and my merit fails: 40 +That Cockatilla, whose deluding airs +Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares; +So sunk her character, and lost her fame, +Scarce visited before your Highness came: +Yet for the bedchamber 'tis she you choose, +Whilst zeal, and lame, and virtue you refuse. +Ah, worthy choice; not one of all your train +Which censures blast not, or dishonours stain. +I know the Court, with all its treacherous wiles, +The false caresses, and undoing smiles. 50 +Ah, Princess! learn'd in all the courtly arts, +To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts.' + + + +TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE. + +1 In beauty or wit, +No mortal as yet +To question your empire has dared; +But men of discerning +Have thought that in learning +To yield to a lady was hard. + +2 Impertinent schools, +With musty dull rules, +Have reading to females denied: +So Papists refuse +The Bible to use, +Lest flocks should be wise as their guide. + +3 'Twas a woman at first +(Indeed she was cursed) +In knowledge that tasted delight, +And sages agree +The laws should decree +To the first possessor the right. + +4 Then bravely, fair dame, +Resume the old claim, +Which to your whole sex does belong; +And let men receive, +From a second bright Eve, +The knowledge of right and of wrong. + +5 But if the first Eve +Hard doom did receive, +When only one apple had she, +What a punishment new +Shall be found out for you, +Who, tasting, have robb'd the whole tree! + + + +EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES + +ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, PAINTED BY KNELLER. + +The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, +That happy air of majesty and truth, +So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try, +My narrow genius does the power deny; +The equal lustre of the heavenly mind, +Where every grace with every virtue's join'd: +Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe, +With greatness easy, and with wit sincere; +With just description show the soul divine, +And the whole princess in my work should shine. + + + +LINES SUNG BY DURASTANTI, + +WHEN SHE TOOK LEAVE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. + +1 Generous, gay, and gallant nation, +Bold in arms, and bright in arts; +Land secure from all invasion, +All but Cupid's gentle darts! +From your charms, oh! who would run? +Who would leave you for the sun? +Happy soil, adieu, adieu! + +2 Let old charmers yield to new; +In arms, in arts, be still more shining: +All your joys be still increasing; +All your tastes be still refining; +All your jars for ever ceasing; +But let old charmers yield to new: +Happy soil, adieu, adieu! + + + +UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S HOUSE AT WOODSTOCK. + +'See, sir, here's the grand approach, +This way is for his Grace's coach: +There lies the bridge, and here's the clock, +Observe the lion and the cock, +The spacious court, the colonnade, +And mark how wide the hall is made! +The chimneys are so well design'd, +They never smoke in any wind. +This gallery's contrived for walking, +The windows to retire and talk in; +The council chamber for debate, +And all the rest are rooms of state.' + +'Thanks, sir,' cried I, ''tis very fine, +But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine? +I find by all you have been telling +That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.' + + + +VERSES LEFT BY MR POPE. + +ON HIS LYING IN THE SAME BED WHICH WILMOT, THE CELEBRATED EARL OF +ROCHESTER, SLEPT IN AT ADDERBURY, THEN BELONGING TO THE DUKE OF ARGYLL, +JULY 9, 1739. + +1 With no poetic ardour fired, + I press the bed where Wilmot lay; + That here he loved, or here expired, + Begets no numbers, grave or gay. + +2 Beneath thy roof, Argyll, are bred + Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie + Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed, + Beneath a nobler roof--the sky. + +3 Such flames as high in patriots burn, + Yet stoop to bless a child or wife; + And such as wicked kings may mourn, + When freedom is more dear than life. + + + +THE CHALLENGE, A COURT BALLAD. + +TO THE TUNE OF 'TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.' + +1 To one fair lady out of Court, +And two fair ladies in, +Who think the Turk[72] and Pope[73] a sport, +And wit and love no sin; +Come these soft lines, with nothing stiff in, +To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.[74] +With a fa, la, la. + +2 What passes in the dark third row, +And what behind the scene, +Couches and crippled chairs I know, +And garrets hung with green; +I know the swing of sinful hack, +Where many damsels cry alack. +With a fa, la, la. + +3 Then why to Courts should I repair, +Where's such ado with Townshend? +To hear each mortal stamp and swear, +And every speech with 'zounds!' end; +To hear 'em rail at honest Sunderland, +And rashly blame the realm of Blunderland.[75] +With a fa, la, la. + +4 Alas! like Schutz I cannot pun, +Like Grafton court the Germans; +Tell Pickenbourg how slim she's grown, +Like Meadows[76] run to sermons; +To Court ambitious men may roam, +But I and Marlbro' stay at home. +With a fa, la, la. + +5 In truth, by what I can discern +Of courtiers, 'twixt you three, +Some wit you have, and more may learn +From Court, than Gay or me; +Perhaps, in time, you'll leave high diet, +To sup with us on milk and quiet. +With a fa, la, la. + +6 At Leicester Fields, a house full high, +With door all painted green, +Where ribbons wave upon the tie, +(A milliner I mean;) +There may you meet us, three to three, +For Gay can well make two of me. +With a fa, la, la. + +7 But should you catch the prudish itch +And each become a coward, +Bring sometimes with you Lady Rich, +And sometimes Mistress Howard; +For virgins, to keep chaste, must go +Abroad with such as are not so. +With a fa, la, la. + +8 And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends; +God send the king safe landing;[77] +And make all honest ladies friends +To armies that are standing; +Preserve the limits of those nations, +And take off ladies' limitations. +With a fa, la, la. + + + +THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS. + +Of gentle Philips[78] will I ever sing, +With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring; +My numbers, too, for ever will I vary, +With gentle Budgell,[79] and with gentle Carey.[80] +Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill, +With gentle Carey, and with gentle Budgell, +Oh! may all gentle bards together place ye, +Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy. +May satire ne'er befool ye, or beknave ye, +And from all wits that have a knack, God save ye! + + + +EPIGRAM, + +ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG WHICH I GAVE TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. + +I am His Highness' dog at Kew; +Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you? + + + +THE TRANSLATOR. + +Ozell, at Sanger's call, invoked his Muse, +For who to sing for Sanger could refuse? +His numbers such as Sanger's self might use. +Reviving Perrault, murdering Boileau, he +Slander'd the ancients first, then Wycherley; +Which yet not much that old bard's anger raised, +Since those were slander'd most whom Ozell praised. +Nor had the gentle satire caused complaining, +Had not sage Rowe pronounced it entertaining; +How great must be the judgment of that writer, +Who the Plain Dealer damns, and prints the Biter! + + + +THE LOOKING-GLASS. + +ON MRS PULTENEY.[81] + +With scornful mien, and various toss of air, +Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair, +Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain, +She looks ambition, and she moves disdain. +Far other carriage graced her virgin life, +But charming Gumley's lost in Pulteney's wife. +Not greater arrogance in him we find, +And this conjunction swells at least her mind: +Oh could the sire, renown'd in glass, produce +One faithful mirror for his daughter's use! +Wherein she might her haughty errors trace, +And by reflection learn to mend her face: +The wonted sweetness to her form restore, +Be what she was, and charm mankind once more! + + + +A FAREWELL TO LONDON + +IN THE YEAR 1715. + +1 Dear, damn'd, distracting town, farewell! +Thy fools no more I'll tease: +This year in peace, ye critics, dwell, +Ye harlots, sleep at ease! + +2 Soft B----s and rough C----s, adieu! +Earl Warwick, make your moan, +The lively H----k and you +May knock up whores alone. + +3 To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd +Till the third watchman's toll; +Let Jervas gratis paint, and Frowde +Save threepence and his soul. + +4 Farewell, Arbuthnot's raillery +On every learned sot; +And Garth, the best good Christian he, +Although he knows it not. + +5 Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go; +Farewell, unhappy Tonson! +Heaven gives thee for thy loss of Rowe, +Lean Philips and fat Johnson. + +6 Why should I stay? Both parties rage; +My vixen mistress squalls; +The wits in envious feuds engage; +And Homer (damn him!) calls. + +7 The love of arts lies cold and dead +In Halifax's urn; +And not one Muse of all he fed +Has yet the grace to mourn. + +8 My friends, by turns, my friends confound, +Betray, and are betray'd: +Poor Y----r's sold for fifty pounds, +And B----ll is a jade. + +9 Why make I friendships with the great, +When I no favour seek. +Or follow girls seven hours in eight?-- +I need but once a week. + +10 Still idle, with a busy air, +Deep whimsies to contrive; +The gayest valetudinaire, +Most thinking rake alive. + +11 Solicitous for others' ends, +Though fond of dear repose; +Careless or drowsy with my friends. +And frolic with my foes. + +12 Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, +For sober studious days! +And Burlington's delicious meal, +For salads, tarts, and pease! + +13 Adieu to all but Gay alone, +Whose soul, sincere and free, +Loves all mankind, but flatters none, +And so may starve with me. + + + +SANDYS' GHOST;[82] + +OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE NEW OVID'S METAMORPHOSES: AS IT WAS +INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY. + + +1 Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit +And pleasure about town, +Read this, ere you translate one bit +Of books of high renown. + +2 Beware of Latin authors all! +Nor think your verses sterling, +Though with a golden pen you scrawl, +And scribble in a berlin: + +3 For not the desk with silver nails, +Nor bureau of expense, +Nor standish well japann'd, avails +To writing of good sense. + +4 Hear how a ghost in dead of night, +With saucer eyes of fire, +In woeful wise did sore affright +A wit and courtly squire. + +5 Rare imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth! +Like puppy tame that uses +To fetch and carry, in his mouth, +The works of all the Muses. + +6 Ah! why did he write poetry, +That hereto was so civil; +And sell his soul for vanity +To rhyming and the devil? + +7 A desk he had of curious work, +With glittering studs about; +Within the same did Sandys lurk, +Though Ovid lay without. + +8 Now, as he scratch'd to fetch up thought, +Forth popp'd the sprite so thin, +And from the keyhole bolted out, +All upright as a pin. + +9 With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, +And ruff composed most duly, +This squire he dropp'd his pen full soon, +While as the light burnt bluely. + +10 'Ho! Master Sam,' quoth Sandys' sprite, +'Write on, nor let me scare ye! +Forsooth, if rhymes fall not in right, +To Budgell seek, or Carey. + +11 'I hear the beat of Jacob's[83] drums, +Poor Ovid finds no quarter! +See first the merry P----[84] comes +In haste without his garter. + +12 'Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights, +Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers: +Garth at St James's, and at White's +Beats up for volunteers. + +13 'What Fenton will not do, nor Gay, +Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan, +Tom Burnet, or Tom D'Urfey may, +John Dunton, Steele, or any one. + +14 'If Justice Philips' costive head +Some frigid rhymes disburses: +They shall like Persian tales be read, +And glad both babes and nurses. + +15 'Let Warwick's Muse with Ashurst join, +And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's, +Tickell and Addison combine, +And Pope translate with Jervas. + +16 'L---- himself, that lively lord, +Who bows to every lady, +Shall join with F---- in one accord, +And be like Tate and Brady. + +17 'Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen; +I pray, where can the hurt lie? +Since you have brains as well as men, +As witness Lady Wortley. + +18 'Now, Tonson, list thy forces all, +Review them, and tell noses: +For to poor Ovid shall befall +A strange metamorphosis; + +19 'A metamorphosis more strange +Than all his books can vapour'-- +'To what (quoth squire) shall Ovid change?' +Quoth Sandys, 'To waste paper.' + + + +UMBRA.[85] + +Close to the best known author Umbra sits, +The constant index to old Button's wits, +'Who's here?' cries Umbra: 'Only Johnson.'[86]--'Oh! +Your slave,' and exit; but returns with Rowe: +'Dear Rowe, let's sit and talk of tragedies;' +Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies. +Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his heel, +And in a moment fastens upon Steele; +But cries as soon, 'Dear Dick, I must be gone, +For, if I know his tread, here's Addison.' +Says Addison to Steele, ''Tis time to go:' +Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe. +Poor Umbra, left in this abandon'd pickle, +E'en sits him down, and writes to honest Tickell. + +Fool! 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam; +Know, sense, like charity, 'begins at home.' + + + +SYLVIA, A FRAGMENT. + +Sylvia my heart in wondrous wise alarm'd +Awed without sense, and without beauty charm'd: +But some odd graces and some flights she had, +Was just not ugly, and was just not mad: +Her tongue still ran on credit from her eyes, +More pert than witty, more a wit than wise: +Good-nature, she declared it, was her scorn, +Though 'twas by that alone she could be borne: +Affronting all, yet fond of a good name; +A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame: +Now coy, and studious in no point to fall, +Now all agog for D----y at a ball: +Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs, +Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres. + +Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; +But every woman's in her soul a rake. +Frail, feverish sex; their fit now chills, now burns: +Atheism and superstition rule by turns; +And a mere heathen in the carnal part, +Is still a sad good Christian at her heart. + + + +IMPROMPTU TO LADY WINCHELSEA. + +OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL VERSES ON WOMEN WITS, IN 'THE RAPE OF THE +LOCK.' + +In vain you boast poetic names of yore, +And cite those Sapphos we admire no more: +Fate doom'd the fall of every female wit; +But doom'd it then, when first Ardelia writ. +Of all examples by the world confess'd, +I knew Ardelia could not quote the best; +Who, like her mistress on Britannia's throne, +Fights and subdues in quarrels not her own. +To write their praise you but in vain essay; +E'en while you write, you take that praise away: +Light to the stars the sun does thus restore, +But shines himself till they are seen no more. + + + +EPIGRAM. + +A Bishop, by his neighbours hated, +Has cause to wish himself translated: +But why should Hough desire translation, +Loved and esteem'd by all the nation? +Yet, if it be the old man's case, +I'll lay my life I know the place: +'Tis where God sent some that adore Him, +And whither Enoch went before him. + + + +EPIGRAM ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL AND BONONCINI. + +Strange! all this difference should be +'Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee! + + + +ON MRS TOFTS, A CELEBRATED OPERA SINGER. + +So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, +As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along: +But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, +That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have died. + + + +THE BALANCE OF EUROPE. + +Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails; +For nothing's left in either of the scales. + + + +EPITAPH ON LORD CONINGSBY. + +Here lies Lord Coningsby--be civil! +The rest God knows--perhaps the Devil. + + + +EPIGRAM. + +You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; +Knock as you please, there's nobody at home. + + + +EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH. + +Sir, I admit your general rule, +That every poet is a fool: +But you yourself may serve to show it, +That every fool is not a poet. + + + +EPITAPH ON GAY. + +Well, then, poor G---- lies under ground! + So there's an end of honest Jack. +So little justice here he found, + 'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back. + + + +EPIGRAM ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB, ANNO 1716. + +1 Whence deathless 'Kit-cat' took its name, + Few critics can unriddle: + Some say from 'pastrycook' it came, + And some, from 'cat' and 'fiddle.' + +2 From no trim beaux its name it boasts, + Gray statesmen, or green wits; + But from this pell-mell pack of toasts + Of old 'cats' and young 'kits.' + + + +TO A LADY, WITH THE 'TEMPLE OF FAME.' + +What's fame with men, by custom of the nation, +Is call'd, in women, only reputation: +About them both why keep we such a pother? +Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other. + + + +ON THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON CUTTING PAPER. + +1 Pallas grew vapourish once, and odd; + She would not do the least right thing, + Either for goddess or for god, + Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. + +2 Jove frown'd, and 'Use (he cried) those eyes + So skilful, and those hands so taper; + Do something exquisite and wise--' + She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper. + +3 This vexing him who gave her birth, + Thought by all heaven a burning shame; + What does she next, but bids, on earth, + Her Burlington do just the same. + +4 Pallas, you give yourself strange airs; + But sure you'll find it hard to spoil + The sense and taste of one that bears + The name of Saville and of Boyle. + +5 Alas! one bad example shown, + How quickly all the sex pursue! + See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown + Between John Overton and you! + + + +ON DRAWINGS OF THE STATUES OF APOLLO, VENUS, AND HERCULES, + +MADE FOR POPE BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER. + +What god, what genius did the pencil move, + When Kneller painted these? +'Twas friendship, warm as Phoebus, kind as Love, + And strong as Hercules. + + + +ON BENTLEY'S 'MILTON.' + +Did Milton's prose, O Charles! thy death defend? +A furious foe unconscious proves a friend. +On Milton's verse did Bentley comment? Know, +A weak officious friend becomes a foe. +While he but sought his author's fame to further, +The murderous critic has avenged thy murther. + + + +LINES + +WRITTEN IN WINDSOR FOREST. + +All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, + Scene of my youthful loves, and happier hours! +Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd, + And gently press'd my hand, and said, 'Be ours!-- +Take all thou e'er shalt have, a constant Muse: + At Court thou mayst be liked, but nothing gain; +Stocks thou mayst buy and sell, but always lose; + And love the brightest eyes, but love in vain.' + + + +TO ERINNA. + +Though sprightly Sappho force our love and praise, +A softer wonder my pleased soul surveys, +The mild Erinna, blushing in her bays. +So, while the sun's broad beam yet strikes the sight, +All mild appears the moon's more sober light; +Serene, in virgin majesty she shines, +And, unobserved, the glaring sun declines. + + + +A DIALOGUE. + +POPE. +Since my old friend is grown so great, +As to be Minister of State, +I'm told, but 'tis not true, I hope, +That Craggs will be ashamed of Pope. + +CRAGGS. +Alas! if I am such a creature, +To grow the worse for growing greater; +Why, faith, in spite of all my brags, +'Tis Pope must be ashamed of Craggs. + + + +ODE TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN, + +THE MAN MOUNTAIN,[87] BY TITTY TIT, POET-LAUREATE TO HIS MAJESTY OF +LILLIPUT. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH. + + In amaze + Lost I gaze! + Can our eyes + Reach thy size! + May my lays + Swell with praise, + Worthy thee! + Worthy me! + Muse, inspire + All thy fire! 10 + Bards of old + Of him told. + When they said + Atlas' head + Propp'd the skies: +See! and believe your eyes! + + See him stride + Valleys wide, + Over woods, + Over floods! 20 + When he treads, + Mountains' heads + Groan and shake: + Armies quake: + Lest his spurn + Overturn + Man and steed, + Troops, take heed! + Left and right, + Speed your flight! 30 + Lest an host +Beneath his foot be lost! + + Turn'd aside + From his hide + Safe from wound, + Darts rebound. + From his nose + Clouds he blows: + When he speaks, + Thunder breaks! 40 + When he eats, + Famine threats! + When he drinks, + Neptune shrinks! + Nigh thy ear + In mid air, + On thy hand + Let me stand; + So shall I, +Lofty poet! touch the sky. 50 + + + +THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG. + +A PASTORAL. + +Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, +She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair: +No British miss sincerer grief has known, +Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown. +She furl'd her sampler, and haul'd in her thread, +And stuck her needle into Grildrig's bed; +Then spread her hands, and with a bounce let fall +Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall. +In peals of thunder now she roars, and now +She gently whimpers like a lowing cow: 10 +Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears: +Her locks dishevell'd, and her flood of tears, +Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain, +When from the thatch drips fast a shower of rain. + +In vain she search'd each cranny of the house, +Each gaping chink impervious to a mouse. +'Was it for this (she cried) with daily care +Within thy reach I set the vinegar, +And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide, +While pepper-water worms thy bait supplied; 20 +Where twined the silver eel around thy hook, +And all the little monsters of the brook? +Sure in that lake he dropp'd; my Grilly's drown'd.' +She dragg'd the cruet, but no Grildrig found. + +'Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast! +But little creatures enterprise the most. +Trembling, I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw, +Nay, mix with children as they play'd at taw, +Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew; +Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you! 30 + +'Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth? +Who from a page can ever learn the truth? +Versed in Court tricks, that money-loving boy +To some lord's daughter sold the living toy; +Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, +As children tear the wings of flies away. +From place to place o'er Brobdignag I'll roam, +And never will return, or bring thee home. +But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind? +How then thy fairy footsteps can I find? 40 +Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone +In the green thicket of a mossy stone; +Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slippery round, +Perhaps all maim'd, lie grovelling on the ground? +Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose, +Or, sunk within the peach's down, repose? +Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread, +Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head, +Oh show me, Flora, 'midst those sweets, the flower +Where sleeps my Grildrig in the fragrant bower! 50 + +'But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves +On little females, and on little loves; +Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse, +The baby playthings that adorn thy house, +Doors, windows, chimneys, and the spacious rooms, +Equal in size to cells of honeycombs: +Hast thou for these now ventured from the shore, +Thy bark a bean-shell, and a straw thy oar? +Or in thy box, now bounding on the main, +Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again? 60 +And shall I set thee on my hand no more, +To see thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er +My spacious palm? Of stature scarce a span, +Mimic the actions of a real man? +No more behold thee turn my watch's key, +As seamen at a capstan anchors weigh? +How wert thou wont to walk with cautious tread, +A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head! +How chase the mite that bore thy cheese away, +And keep the rolling maggot at a bay!' 70 + +She spoke; but broken accents stopp'd her voice, +Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noise: +She sobb'd a storm, and wiped her flowing eyes, +Which seem'd like two broad suns in misty skies. +Oh, squander not thy grief; those tears command +To weep upon our cod in Newfoundland: +The plenteous pickle shall preserve the fish, +And Europe taste thy sorrows in a dish. + + + +TO MR LEMUEL GULLIVER, + +THE GRATEFUL ADDRESS OF THE UNHAPPY HOUYHNHNMS, NOW IN SLAVERY AND +BONDAGE IN ENGLAND. + +To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm band, +Condemn'd to labour in a barbarous land, +Return our thanks. Accept our humble lays, +And let each grateful Houyhnhnm neigh thy praise. + +O happy Yahoo! purged from human crimes, +By thy sweet sojourn in those virtuous climes, +Where reign our sires; there, to thy country's shame, +Reason, you found, and virtue were the same. +Their precepts razed the prejudice of youth, +And even a Yahoo learn'd the love of truth. 10 + +Art thou the first who did the coast explore? +Did never Yahoo tread that ground before? +Yes, thousands! But in pity to their kind, +Or sway'd by envy, or through pride of mind, +They hid their knowledge of a nobler race, +Which own'd, would all their sires and sons disgrace. + +You, like the Samian, visit lands unknown, +And by their wiser morals mend your own. +Thus Orpheus travell'd to reform his kind, +Came back, and tamed the brutes he left behind. 20 + +You went, you saw, you heard; with virtue fought, +Then spread those morals which the Houyhnhnms taught. +Our labours here must touch thy generous heart, +To see us strain before the coach and cart; +Compell'd to run each knavish jockey's heat! +Subservient to Newmarket's annual cheat! +With what reluctance do we lawyers bear, +To fleece their country clients twice a year! +Or managed in your schools, for fops to ride, +How foam, how fret beneath a load of pride! 30 +Yes, we are slaves--but yet, by reason's force, +Have learn'd to bear misfortune, like a horse. + +Oh would the stars, to ease my bonds, ordain, +That gentle Gulliver might guide my rein! +Safe would I bear him to his journey's end, +For 'tis a pleasure to support a friend. +But if my life be doom'd to serve the bad, +Oh! mayst thou never want an easy pad! + +HOUYHNHNM. + + + +MARY GULLIVER TO CAPTAIN LEMUEL GULLIVER. + +AN EPISTLE. + +The captain, some time after his return, being retired to Mr Sympson's +in the country, Mrs Gulliver, apprehending from his late behaviour some +estrangement of his affections, writes him the following expostulatory, +soothing, and tenderly complaining epistle:-- + +Welcome, thrice welcome, to thy native place!-- +What, touch me not? what, shun a wife's embrace? +Have I for this thy tedious absence borne, +And waked, and wish'd whole nights for thy return? +In five long years I took no second spouse; +What Redriff wife so long hath kept her vows? +Your eyes, your nose, inconstancy betray; +Your nose you stop, your eyes you turn away. +'Tis said, that thou shouldst 'cleave unto thy wife;' +Once thou didst cleave, and I could cleave for life. 10 +Hear, and relent! hark how thy children moan! +Be kind at least to these; they are thy own: +Behold, and count them all; secure to find +The honest number that you left behind. +See how they pat thee with their pretty paws: +Why start you? are they snakes? or have they claws? +Thy Christian seed, our mutual flesh and bone: +Be kind at least to these; they are thy own. + +Biddel,[88] like thee, might farthest India rove; +He changed his country, but retain'd his love. 20 +There's Captain Pannel,[89] absent half his life, +Comes back, and is the kinder to his wife; +Yet Pannel's wife is brown compared to me, +And Mrs Biddel sure is fifty-three. + +Not touch me! never neighbour call'd me slut: +Was Flimnap's dame more sweet in Lilliput? +I've no red hair to breathe an odious fume; +At least thy consort's cleaner than thy groom. +Why then that dirty stable-boy thy care? +What mean those visits to the sorrel mare? 30 +Say, by what witchcraft, or what demon led, +Preferr'st thou litter to the marriage-bed? + +Some say the devil himself is in that mare: +If so, our Dean shall drive him forth by prayer. +Some think you mad, some think you are possess'd, +That Bedlam and clean straw will suit you best. +Vain means, alas, this frenzy to appease! +That straw, that straw, would heighten the disease. + +My bed (the scene of all our former joys, +Witness two lovely girls, two lovely boys), 40 +Alone I press: in dreams I call my dear, +I stretch my hand; no Gulliver is there! +I wake, I rise, and, shivering with the frost, +Search all the house; my Gulliver is lost! +Forth in the street I rush with frantic cries; +The windows open, all the neighbours rise: +'Where sleeps my Gulliver? Oh tell me where!' +The neighbours answer, 'With the sorrel mare!' + +At early morn I to the market haste 50 +(Studious in everything to please thy taste); +A curious fowl and 'sparagus I chose +(For I remember'd you were fond of those); +Three shillings cost the first, the last seven groats; +Sullen you turn from both, and call for oats. +Others bring goods and treasure to their houses, +Something to deck their pretty babes and spouses: +My only token was a cup-like horn, +That's made of nothing but a lady's corn. +'Tis not for that I grieve; oh, 'tis to see +The groom and sorrel mare preferr'd to me! 60 + +These, for some moments when you deign to quit, +And at due distance sweet discourse admit, +'Tis all my pleasure thy past toil to know; +For pleased remembrance builds delight on woe. +At every danger pants thy consort's breast, +And gaping infants squall to hear the rest. +How did I tremble, when, by thousands bound, +I saw thee stretch'd on Lilliputian ground! +When scaling armies climb'd up every part, +Each step they trod I felt upon my heart. 70 +But when thy torrent quench'd the dreadful blaze, +King, queen, and nation staring with amaze, +Full in my view how all my husband came, +And what extinguished theirs increased my flame. +Those spectacles, ordain'd thine eyes to save, +Were once my present; love that armour gave. +How did I mourn at Bolgolam's decree! +For when he sign'd thy death, he sentenced me. +When folks might see thee all the country round +For sixpence, I'd have given a thousand pound. 80 +Lord! when the giant babe that head of thine +Got in his mouth, my heart was up in mine! +When in the marrow-bone I see thee ramm'd, +Or on the house-top by the monkey cramm'd, +The piteous images renew my pain, +And all thy dangers I weep o'er again. +But on the maiden's nipple when you rid, +Pray Heaven, 'twas all a wanton maiden did! +Glumdalclitch, too! with thee I mourn her case: +Heaven guard the gentle girl from all disgrace! 90 +Oh may the king that one neglect forgive, +And pardon her the fault by which I live! +Was there no other way to set him free? +My life, alas! I fear, proved death to thee. + +Oh teach me, dear, new words to speak my flame! +Teach me to woo thee by thy best loved name! +Whether the style of Grildrig please thee most, +So call'd on Brobdignag's stupendous coast, +When on the monarch's ample hand you sate, +And halloo'd in his ear intrigues of state; 100 +Or Quinbus Flestrin more endearment brings, +When like a mountain you look'd down on kings: +If ducal Nardac, Lilliputian peer, +Or Glumglum's humbler title soothe thy ear: +Nay, would kind Jove my organs so dispose, +To hymn harmonious Houyhnhnm through the nose, +I'd call thee Houyhnhnm, that high-sounding name; +Thy children's noses all should twang the same; +So might I find my loving spouse of course +Endued with all the virtues of a horse. 110 + + + +1740. + +A FRAGMENT OF A POEM. + +O Wretched B----,[90] jealous now of all, +What god, what mortal shall prevent thy fall? +Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in place, +And see what succour from the patriot race. +C----,[91] his own proud dupe, thinks monarchs things +Made just for him, as other fools for kings; +Controls, decides, insults thee every hour, +And antedates the hatred due to power. + +Through clouds of passion P----'s[92] views are clear; +He foams a patriot to subside a peer; 10 +Impatient sees his country bought and sold, +And damns the market where he takes no gold. + +Grave, righteous S----[93] jogs on till, past belief, +He finds himself companion with a thief. + +To purge and let thee blood with fire and sword, +Is all the help stern S----[94] would afford. + +That those who bind and rob thee would not kill, +Good C----[95] hopes, and candidly sits still. + +Of Ch---s W----[96] who speaks at all, +No more than of Sir Har--y or Sir P----.[97] 20 +Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong +To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long. + +G---r, C---m, B---t,[98] pay thee due regards, +Unless the ladies bid them mind their cards. + with wit that must +And C---d[99] who speaks so well and writes, +Whom (saving W.) every S. _harper bites_, + must needs, +Whose wit and ... equally provoke one, +Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on. + +As for the rest, each winter up they run, +And all are clear, and something must be done. 30 +Then urged by C---t,[100] or by C---t stopp'd, +Inflamed by P----,[101] and by P---- dropp'd; +They follow reverently each wondrous wight, +Amazed that one can read, that one can write: +So geese to gander prone obedience keep, +Hiss, if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep. +Till having done whate'er was fit or fine, +Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends to dine; +Each hurries back to his paternal ground, +Content but for five shillings in the pound, 40 +Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give, +And all agree Sir Robert cannot live. + +Rise, rise, great W----,[102] fated to appear, +Spite of thyself a glorious minister! +Speak the loud language princes ... +And treat with half the ... +At length to B---- kind as to thy ... +Espouse the nation, you ... + +What can thy H---[103] ... +Dress in Dutch ... 50 + +Though still he travels on no bad pretence, +To shew ... + +Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue, +Veracious W----[104] and frontless Young;[105] +Sagacious Bub,[106] so late a friend, and there +So late a foe, yet more sagacious H----?[107] +Hervey and Hervey's school, F----, H---y,[108] H---n[109] +Yea, moral Ebor,[110] or religious Winton. +How! what can O---w,[111] what can D----, +The wisdom of the one and other chair, 60 +N----[112] laugh, or D---s[113] sager, +Or thy dread truncheon M----'s[114] mighty peer? +What help from J----'s[115] opiates canst thou draw, +Or H---k's[116] quibbles voted into law? + +C----,[117] that Roman in his nose alone, +Who hears all causes, B----,[118] but thy own, +Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, and fate +Made fit companions for the sword of state. + +Can the light packhorse, or the heavy steer, +The sowzing prelate, or the sweating peer, 70 +Drag out, with all its dirt and all its weight, +The lumbering carriage of thy broken state? +Alas! the people curse, the carman swears, +The drivers quarrel, and the master stares. + +The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries +To save thee, in the infectious office _dies_. +The first firm P---y soon resign'd his breath, +Brave S---w[119] loved thee, and was lied to death. +Good M-m-t's[120] fate tore P---th[121] from thy side, +And thy last sigh was heard when W---m[122] died. 80 + +Thy nobles sl---s,[123] thy se---s[124] bought with gold +Thy clergy perjured, thy whole people sold. +An atheist [symbol] a [symbol]'s ad ... [125] +Blotch thee all o'er, and sink ... + +Alas! on one alone our all relies, +Let him be honest, and he must be wise, +Let him no trifler from his school, +Nor like his ... still a ... +Be but a man! unminister'd, alone, +And free at once the senate and the throne; 90 +Esteem the public love his best supply, +A [symbol]'s[126] true glory his integrity: +Rich _with_ his ... _in_ his ... strong, +Affect no conquest, but endure no wrong. +Whatever his religion[127] or his blood, +His public virtue makes his title good. +Europe's just balance and our own may stand, +And one man's honesty redeem the land. + + + +THE FOURTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.[128] + +Say, St John, who alone peruse +With candid eye the mimic Muse, +What schemes of politics, or laws, +In Gallic lands the patriot draws! +Is then a greater work in hand, +Than all the tomes of Haines's band? +'Or shoots he folly as it flies? +Or catches manners as they rise?' +Or urged by unquench'd native heat, +Does St John Greenwich sports repeat? 10 +Where (emulous of Chartres' fame) +E'en Chartres' self is scarce a name. + +To you (the all-envied gift of heaven) +The indulgent gods, unask'd, have given +A form complete in every part, +And, to enjoy that gift, the art. + +What could a tender mother's care +Wish better, to her favourite heir, +Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours, +A stock of health, and golden showers, 20 +And graceful fluency of speech, +Precepts before unknown to teach? + +Amidst thy various ebbs of fear, +And gleaming hope, and black despair, +Yet let thy friend this truth impart, +A truth I tell with bleeding heart, +(In justice for your labours past) +That every day shall be your last; +That every hour you life renew +Is to your injured country due. 30 + +In spite of fears, of mercy spite, +My genius still must rail, and write. +Haste to thy Twickenham's safe retreat, +And mingle with the grumbling great; +There, half-devoured by spleen, you'll find +The rhyming bubbler of mankind; +There (objects of our mutual hate) +We'll ridicule both church and state. + + + +EPIGRAM + +ON ONE WHO MADE LONG EPITAPHS.[129] + +Friend, for your epitaphs I'm grieved, +Where still so much is said; +One half will never be believed, +The other never read. + + + +ON AN OLD GATE. + +ERECTED IN CHISWICK GARDENS. + +O gate, how cam'st thou here? +_Gate_. I was brought from Chelsea last year, +Batter'd with wind and weather. +Inigo Jones put me together; +Sir Hans Sloane +Let me alone: +Burlington brought me hither. + + + +A FRAGMENT. + +What are the falling rills, the pendant shades, +The morning bowers, the evening colonnades, +But soft recesses for th' uneasy mind +To sigh unheard in, to the passing wind! +So the struck deer, in some sequester'd part, +Lies down to die (the arrow in his heart); +There hid in shades, and wasting day by day, +Inly he bleeds, and pants his soul away. + + + +TO MR GAY, + +WHO HAD CONGRATULATED POPE ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS. + +'Ah, friend! 'tis true--this truth you lovers know-- +In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow, +In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes +Of hanging mountains, and of sloping greens: +Joy lives not here, to happier seats it flies, +And only dwells where Wortley casts her eyes. + +'What are the gay parterre, the chequer'd shade, +The morning bower, the evening colonnade, +But soft recesses of uneasy minds, +To sigh unheard in, to the passing winds? +So the struck deer in some sequester'd part +Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart, +He, stretch'd unseen in coverts hid from day, +Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life away.' + + + +ARGUS. + +When wise Ulysses, from his native coast +Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd, +Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone, +To all his friends, and even his queen unknown: +Changed as he was with age, and toils, and cares, +Furrow'd his reverend face, and white his hairs, +In his own palace forced to ask his bread, +Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed, +Forgot of all his own domestic crew; +The faithful dog alone his rightful master knew: +Unfed, unhoused, neglected, on the clay, +Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay; +Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful man, +And longing to behold his ancient lord again. +Him when he saw he rose, and crawl'd to meet, +('Twas all he could) and fawn'd and kiss'd his feet, +Seized with dumb joy: then falling by his side, +Own'd his returning lord, look'd up, and died! + + + +PRAYER OF BRUTUS. + +FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH. + +Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, +To mountain wolves and all the savage race, +Wide o'er th' aerial vault extend thy sway, +And o'er th' infernal regions void of day. +On thy third reign look down; disclose our fate, +In what new station shall we fix our seat? +When shall we next thy hallow'd altars raise, +And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise? + + + +LINES ON A GROTTO, AT CRUX-EASTON, HANTS. + +Here shunning idleness at once and praise, +This radiant pile nine rural sisters[130] raise; +The glittering emblem of each spotless dame, +Clear as her soul, and shining as her frame; +Beauty which nature only can impart, +And such a polish as disgraces art; +But Fate disposed them in this humble sort, +And hid in deserts what would charm a court. + + + + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER + +DEO OPT. MAX. + + +1 Father of all! in every age, + In every clime adored, + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord! + +2 Thou great First Cause, least understood: + Who all my sense confined + To know but this, that Thou art good, + And that myself am blind; + +3 Yet gave me, in this dark estate, + To see the good from ill; + And, binding nature fast in fate, + Left free the human will.[131] + +4 What conscience dictates to be done, + Or warns me not to do, + This, teach me more than hell to shun, + That, more than heaven pursue. + +5 What blessings thy free bounty gives, + Let me not cast away; + For God is paid when man receives; + T' enjoy is to obey. + +6 Yet not to earth's contracted span + Thy goodness let me bound, + Or think Thee Lord alone of man, + When thousand worlds are round: + +7 Let not this weak, unknowing hand + Presume Thy bolts to throw, + And deal damnation round the land, + On each I judge Thy foe. + +8 If I am right, Thy grace impart, + Still in the right to stay; + If I am wrong, oh teach my heart + To find that better way! + +9 Save me alike from foolish pride, + Or impious discontent, + At ought Thy wisdom has denied. + Or ought Thy goodness lent.[132] + +10 Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. + +11 Mean though I am, not wholly so, + Since quicken'd by Thy breath; + Oh, lead me, wheresoe'er I go, + Through this day's life or death! + +12 This day, be bread and peace my lot: + All else beneath the sun, + Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, + And let Thy will be done. + +13 To Thee, whose temple is all space, + Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! + One chorus let all being raise! + All Nature's incense rise! + + + + +THE DUNCIAD. + +IN FOUR BOOKS. + + +A LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER, + +OCCASIONED BY THE FIRST CORRECT EDITION OF THE DUNCIAD. + + +It is with pleasure I hear that you have procured a correct copy of 'The +Dunciad,' which the many surreptitious ones have rendered so necessary; +and it is yet with more, that I am informed it will be attended with a +commentary; a work so requisite, that I cannot think the author himself +would have omitted it, had he approved of the first appearance of this +poem. + +Such notes as have occurred to me I herewith send you: you will oblige +me by inserting them amongst those which are, or will be, transmitted to +you by others; since not only the author's friends but even strangers +appear engaged by humanity, to take some care of an orphan of so much +genius and spirit, which its parent seems to have abandoned from the +very beginning, and suffered to step into the world naked, unguarded, +and unattended. + +It was upon reading some of the abusive papers lately published, that my +great regard to a person, whose friendship I esteem as one of the chief +honours of my life, and a much greater respect to truth, than to him or +any man living, engaged me in inquiries, of which the enclosed notes are +the fruit. + +I perceived that most of these authors had been (doubtless very wisely) +the first aggressors. They had tried till they were weary, what was to +be got by railing at each other; nobody was either concerned or +surprised, if this or that scribbler was proved a dunce. But every one +was curious to read what could be said to prove Mr Pope one, and was +ready to pay something for such a discovery; a stratagem which, would +they fairly own it, might not only reconcile them to me, but screen them +from the resentment of their lawful superiors, whom they daily abuse, +only (as I charitably hope) to get that _by_ them, which they cannot get +_from_ them. + +I found this was not all. Ill success in that had transported them to +personal abuse, either of himself, or (what I think he could less +forgive) of his friends. They had called men of virtue and honour bad +men, long before he had either leisure or inclination to call them bad +writers; and some had been such old offenders, that he had quite +forgotten their persons as well as their slanders, till they were +pleased to revive them. + +Now what had Mr Pope done before to incense them? He had published those +works which are in the hands of everybody, in which not the least +mention is made of any of them. And what has he done since? He has +laughed, and written 'The Dunciad.' What has that said of them? A very +serious truth, which the public had said before, that they were dull; +and what it had no sooner said, but they themselves were at great pains +to procure, or even purchase, room in the prints to testify under their +hands to the truth of it. + +I should still have been silent, if either I had seen any inclination in +my friend to be serious with such accusers, or if they had only meddled +with his writings; since whoever publishes, puts himself on his trial by +his country. But when his moral character was attacked, and in a manner +from which neither truth nor virtue can secure the most innocent; in a +manner which, though it annihilates the credit of the accusation with +the just and impartial, yet aggravates very much the guilt of the +accusers; I mean by authors without names; then I thought, since the +danger was common to all, the concern ought to be so; and that it was an +act of justice to detect the authors, not only on this account, but as +many of them are the same who, for several years past, have made free +with the greatest names in Church and State, exposed to the world the +private misfortunes of families, abused all, even to women, and whose +prostituted papers (for one or other party, in the unhappy divisions of +their country) have insulted the fallen, the friendless, the exiled, and +the dead. + +Besides this, which I take to be a public concern, I have already +confessed I had a private one. I am one of that number who have long +loved and esteemed Mr Pope; and had often declared it was not his +capacity or writings (which we ever thought the least valuable part of +his character), but the honest, open, and beneficent man, that we most +esteemed, and loved in him. Now if what these people say were believed, +I must appear to all my friends either a fool, or a knave; either +imposed on myself, or imposing on them; so that I am as much interested +in the confutation of these calumnies as he is himself. + +I am no author, and consequently not to be suspected either of jealousy +or resentment against any of the men, of whom scarce one is known to me +by sight; and as for their writings, I have sought them (on this one +occasion) in vain, in the closets and libraries of all my acquaintance. +I had still been in the dark if a gentleman had not procured me (I +suppose from some of themselves, for they are generally much more +dangerous friends than enemies) the passages I send you. I solemnly +protest I have added nothing to the malice or absurdity of them; which +it behoves me to declare, since the vouchers themselves will be so soon +and so irrecoverably lost. You may in some measure prevent it, by +preserving at least their titles, and discovering (as far as you can +depend on the truth of your information) the names of the concealed +authors. + +The first objection I have heard made to the poem is, that the persons +are too obscure for satire. The persons themselves, rather than allow +the objection, would forgive the satire; and if one could be tempted to +afford it a serious answer, were not all assassinates, popular +insurrections, the insolence of the rabble without doors, and of +domestics within, most wrongfully chastised, if the meanness of +offenders indemnified them from punishment? On the contrary, obscurity +renders them more dangerous, as less thought of: law can pronounce +judgment only on open facts; morality alone can pass censure on +intentions of mischief; so that for secret calumny, or the arrow flying +in the dark, there is no public punishment left, but what a good writer +inflicts. + +The next objection is, that these sort of authors are poor. That might +be pleaded as an excuse at the Old Bailey for lesser crimes than +defamation (for 'tis the case of almost all who are tried there), but +sure it can be none: for who will pretend that the robbing another of +his reputation supplies the want of it in himself? I question not but +such authors are poor, and heartily wish the objection were removed by +any honest livelihood. But poverty is here the accident, not the +subject: he who describes malice and villany to be pale and meagre, +expresses not the least anger against paleness or leanness, but against +malice and villany. The apothecary in Romeo and Juliet is poor; but is +he therefore justified in vending poison? Not but poverty itself becomes +a just subject of satire, when it is the consequence of vice, +prodigality, or neglect of one's lawful calling; for then it increases +the public burden, fills the streets and highways with robbers, and the +garrets with clippers, coiners, and weekly journalists. + +But admitting that two or three of these offend less in their morals +than in their writings, must poverty make nonsense sacred? If so, the +fame of bad authors would be much better consulted than that of all the +good ones in the world; and not one of a hundred had ever been called by +his right name. + +They mistake the whole matter: it is not charity to encourage them in +the way they follow, but to get them out of it; for men are not bunglers +because they are poor, but they are poor because they are bunglers. + +Is it not pleasant enough to hear our authors crying out on the one +hand, as if their persons and characters were too sacred for satire; and +the public objecting on the other, that they are too mean even for +ridicule? But whether bread or fame be their end, it must be allowed, +our author, by and in this poem, has mercifully given them a little of +both. + +There are two or three who, by their rank and fortune, have no benefit +from the former objections, supposing them good; and these I was sorry +to see in such company. But if, without any provocation, two or three +gentlemen will fall upon one, in an affair wherein his interest and +reputation are equally embarked, they cannot, certainly, after they have +been content to print themselves his enemies, complain of being put into +the number of them. + +Others, I am told, pretend to have been once his friends. Surely they +are their enemies who say so, since nothing can be more odious than to +treat a friend as they have done. But of this I cannot persuade myself, +when I consider the constant and eternal aversion of all bad writers to +a good one. + +Such as claim a merit from being his admirers, I would gladly ask, if it +lays him under a personal obligation? At that rate, he would be the most +obliged humble servant in the world. I dare swear for these in +particular, he never desired them to be his admirers, nor promised in +return to be theirs: that had truly been a sign he was of their +acquaintance; but would not the malicious world have suspected such an +approbation of some motive worse than ignorance in the author of the +Essay on Criticism? Be it as it will, the reasons of their admiration +and of his contempt are equally subsisting, for his works and theirs are +the very same that they were. + +One, therefore, of their assertions I believe may be true--'That he has +a contempt for their writings.' And there is another, which would +probably be sooner allowed by himself than by any good judge beside-- +'That his own have found too much success with the public.' But as it +cannot consist with his modesty to claim this as justice, it lies not on +him, but entirely on the public, to defend its own judgment. + +There remains what in my opinion might seem a better plea for these +people than any they have made use of. If obscurity or poverty were to +exempt a man from satire, much more should folly or dulness, which are +still more involuntary; nay, as much so as personal deformity. But even +this will not help them: deformity becomes an object of ridicule when a +man sets up for being handsome; and so must dulness when he sets up for +a wit. They are not ridiculed because ridicule in itself is, or ought to +be, a pleasure, but because it is just to undeceive and vindicate the +honest and unpretending part of mankind from imposition, because +particular interest ought to yield to general, and a great number who +are not naturally fools ought never to be made so, in complaisance to a +few who are. Accordingly we find that in all ages, all vain pretenders, +were they ever so poor or ever so dull, have been constantly the topics +of the most candid satirists, from the Codrus of Juvenal to the Damon of +Boileau. + +Having mentioned Boileau, the greatest poet and most judicious critic of +his age and country, admirable for his talents, and yet perhaps more +admirable for his judgment in the proper application of them, I cannot +help remarking the resemblance betwixt him and our author, in qualities, +fame, and fortune, in the distinctions shown them by their superiors, in +the general esteem of their equals, and in their extended reputation +amongst foreigners; in the latter of which ours has met with the better +fate, as he has had for his translators persons of the most eminent rank +and abilities in their respective nations. But the resemblance holds in +nothing more than in their being equally abused by the ignorant +pretenders to poetry of their times, of which not the least memory will +remain but in their own writings, and in the notes made upon them. What +Boileau has done in almost all his poems, our author has only in this: I +dare answer for him he will do it in no more; and on this principle, of +attacking few but who had slandered him, he could not have done it at +all, had he been confined from censuring obscure and worthless persons, +for scarce any other were his enemies. However, as the parity is so +remarkable, I hope it will continue to the last; and if ever he shall +give us an edition of this poem himself, I may see some of them treated +as gently, on their repentance or better merit, as Perrault and Quinault +were at last by Boileau. + +In one point I must be allowed to think the character of our English +poet the more amiable. He has not been a follower of fortune or success; +he has lived with the great without flattery--been a friend to men in +power, without pensions, from whom, as he asked, so he received no +favour but what was done him in his friends. As his satires were the +more just for being delayed, so were his panegyrics; bestowed only on +such persons as he had familiarly known, only for such virtues as he had +long observed in them, and only at such times as others cease to praise, +if not begin to calumniate them--I mean, when out of power or out of +fashion. A satire, therefore, on writers so notorious for the contrary +practice, became no man so well as himself; as none, it is plain, was so +little in their friendships, or so much in that of those whom they had +most abused--namely, the greatest and best of all parties. Let me add a +further reason, that, though engaged in their friendships, he never +espoused their animosities; and can almost singly challenge this honour, +not to have written a line of any man, which, through guilt, through +shame, or through fear, through variety of fortune, or change of +interests, he was ever unwilling to own. + +I shall conclude with remarking, what a pleasure it must be to every +reader of humanity to see all along, that our author in his very +laughter is not indulging his own ill-nature, but only punishing that of +others. As to his poem, those alone are capable of doing it justice, +who, to use the words of a great writer, know how hard it is (with +regard both to his subject and his manner) _vetustis dare novitatem, +obsoletis nitorem, obscuris lucem, fastiditis gratiam_.--I am + +Your most humble servant, + +WILLIAM CLELAND.[133] +ST JAMES'S, _Dec_. 22, 1728. + + + +MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS HIS PROLEGOMENA AND ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE DUNCIAD: + +WITH THE HYPERCRITICS OF ARISTARCHUS. + + +DENNIS, REMARKS ON PR. ARTHUR. + +I cannot but think it the most reasonable thing in the world to +distinguish good writers, by discouraging the bad. Nor is it an +ill-natured thing, in relation even to the very persons upon whom the +reflections are made. It is true, it may deprive them, a little the +sooner, of a short profit and a transitory reputation; but then it may +have a good effect, and oblige them (before it be too late) to decline +that for which they are so very unfit, and to have recourse to something +in which they may be more successful. + +CHARACTER OF MR P., 1716. + +The persons whom Boileau has attacked in his writings have been for the +most part authors, and most of those authors, poets: and the censures he +hath passed upon them have been confirmed by all Europe. + +GILDON, PREF. TO HIS NEW REHEARSAL. + +It is the common cry of the poetasters of the town, and their fautors, +that it is an ill-natured thing to expose the pretenders to wit and +poetry. The judges and magistrates may, with full as good reason, be +reproached with ill-nature for putting the laws in execution against a +thief or impostor. The same will hold in the republic of letters, if the +critics and judges will let every ignorant pretender to scribbling pass +on the world. + +THEOBALD, LETTER TO MIST, JUNE 22, 1728. + +Attacks may be levelled either against failures in genius, or against +the pretensions of writing without one. + +CONCANEN, DED. TO THE AUTHOR OF THE DUNCIAD. + +A satire upon dulness is a thing that has been used and allowed in all +ages. + +Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee, wicked scribbler. + + + +TESTIMONIES OF AUTHORS + +CONCERNING OUR POET AND HIS WORKS. + + +M. SCRIBLERUS LECTORI S. + +Before we present thee with our exercitations on this most delectable +poem (drawn from the many volumes of our Adversaria on modern authors) +we shall here, according to the laudable usage of editors, collect the +various judgments of the learned concerning our Poet: various indeed, +not only of different authors, but of the same author at different +seasons. Nor shall we gather only the testimonies of such eminent wits +as would of course descend to posterity, and consequently be read +without our collection; but we shall likewise, with incredible labour, +seek out for divers others, which, but for this our diligence, could +never, at the distance of a few months, appear to the eye of the most +curious. Hereby thou may'st not only receive the delectation of variety, +but also arrive at a more certain judgment, by a grave and circumspect +comparison of the witnesses with each other, or of each with himself. +Hence also, thou wilt be enabled to draw reflections, not only of a +critical, but a moral nature, by being let into many particulars of the +person as well as genius, and of the fortune as well as merit, of our +author: in which, if I relate some things of little concern peradventure +to thee, and some of as little even to him, I entreat thee to consider +how minutely all true critics and commentators are wont to insist upon +such, and how material they seem to themselves, if to none other. +Forgive me, gentle reader, if (following learned example) I ever and +anon become tedious: allow me to take the same pains to find whether my +author were good or bad, well or ill-natured, modest or arrogant; as +another, whether his author was fair or brown, short or tall, or whether +he wore a coat or a cassock. + +We purposed to begin with his life, parentage, and education: but as to +these, even his cotemporaries do exceedingly differ. One saith,[134] he +was educated at home; another,[135] that he was bred at St Omer's by +Jesuits; a third,[136] not at St Omer's, but at Oxford; a fourth,[137] +that he had no University education at all. Those who allow him to be +bred at home differ as much concerning his tutor: one saith,[138] he was +kept by his father on purpose; a second,[139] that he was an itinerant +priest; a third,[140] that he was a parson; one[141] calleth him a +secular clergyman of the Church of Rome; another,[142] a monk. As little +do they agree about his father, whom one[143] supposeth, like the father +of Hesiod, a tradesman or merchant; another,[144] a husbandman; +another,[145] a hatter, &c. Nor has an author been wanting to give our +Poet such a father as Apuleius hath to Plato, Jamblichus to Pythagoras, +and divers to Homer, namely, a demon: For thus Mr Gildon[146]: 'Certain +it is, that his original is not from Adam, but the Devil; and that he +wanteth nothing but horns and tail to be the exact resemblance of his +infernal Father.' Finding, therefore, such contrariety of opinions, and +(whatever be ours of this sort of generation) not being fond to enter +into controversy, we shall defer writing the life of our Poet, till +authors can determine among themselves what parents or education he had, +or whether he had any education or parents at all. + +Proceed we to what is more certain, his Works, though not less uncertain +the judgments concerning them; beginning with his Essay on Criticism, of +which hear first the most ancient of critics-- + +MR JOHN DENNIS. + +'His precepts are false or trivial, or both; his thoughts are crude and +abortive, his expressions absurd, his numbers harsh and unmusical, his +rhymes trivial and common:--instead of majesty, we have something that +is very mean; instead of gravity, something that is very boyish; and +instead of perspicuity and lucid order, we have but too often obscurity +and confusion.' And in another place: 'What rare numbers are here! Would +not one swear that this youngster had espoused some antiquated Muse, who +had sued out a divorce from some superannuated sinner, upon account of +impotence, and who, being poxed by her former spouse, has got the gout +in her decrepid age, which makes her hobble so damnably.'[147] + +No less peremptory is the censure of our hypercritical historian, + +MR OLDMIXON. + +'I dare not say anything of the Essay on Criticism in verse; but if any +more curious reader has discovered in it something new which is not in +Dryden's prefaces, dedications, and his Essay on Dramatic Poetry, not to +mention the French critics, I should be very glad to have the benefit of +the discovery.'[148] + +He is followed (as in fame, so in judgment) by the modest and +simple-minded + +MR LEONARD WELSTED, + +who, out of great respect to our poet not naming him, doth yet glance at +his essay, together with the Duke of Buckingham's, and the criticisms of +Dryden, and of Horace, which he more openly taxeth: 'As to the numerous +treatises, essays, arts, &c., both in verse and prose, that have been +written by the moderns on this ground-work, they do but hackney the same +thoughts over again, making them still more trite. Most of their pieces +are nothing but a pert, insipid heap of common-place. Horace has even, +in his Art of Poetry, thrown out several things which plainly shew he +thought an Art of Poetry was of no use, even while he was writing +one.'[149] + +To all which great authorities, we can only oppose that of + +MR ADDISON. + +'The Art of Criticism (saith he), which was published some months since, +is a master-piece in its kind. The observations follow one another, like +those in Horace's Art of Poetry, without that methodical regularity +which would have been requisite in a prose writer. They are some of them +uncommon, but such as the reader must assent to, when he sees them +explained with that ease and perspicuity in which they are delivered. As +for those which are the most known and the most received, they are +placed in so beautiful a light, and illustrated with such apt allusions, +that they have in them all the graces of novelty, and make the reader, +who was before acquainted with them, still more convinced of their truth +and solidity. And here give me leave to mention what Monsieur Boileau +has so well enlarged upon in the preface to his works--that wit and fine +writing doth not consist so much in advancing things that are new, as in +giving things that are known an agreeable turn. It is impossible for us, +who live in the latter ages of the world, to make observations in +criticism, morality, or any art or science, which have not been touched +upon by others; we have little else left us but to represent the common +sense of mankind in more strong, more beautiful, or more uncommon +lights. If a reader examines Horace's Art of Poetry, he will find but +few precepts in it which he may not meet with in Aristotle, and which +were not commonly known by all the poets of the Augustan age. His way of +expressing and applying them, not his invention of them, is what we are +chiefly to admire.' + +'Longinus, in his Reflections, has given us the same kind of sublime +which he observes in the several passages that occasioned them: I cannot +but take notice that our English author has, after the same manner, +exemplified several of the precepts in the very precepts themselves.' He +then produces some instances of a particular beauty in the numbers, and +concludes with saying, 'that there are three poems in our tongue of the +same nature, and each a master-piece in its kind--the Essay on +Translated Verse, the Essay on the Art of Poetry, and the Essay on +Criticism.'[150] + +Of WINDSOR FOREST, positive is the judgment of the affirmative + +MR JOHN DENNIS, + +'That it is a wretched rhapsody, impudently writ in emulation of the +Cooper's Hill of Sir John Denham.[151] The author of it is obscure, is +ambiguous, is affected, is temerarious, is barbarous.'[152] + +But the author of the Dispensary, + +DR GARTH, + +in the preface to his poem of Claremont, differs from this opinion: +'Those who have seen these two excellent poems of Cooper's Hill and +Windsor Forest--the one written by Sir John Denham, the other by Mr +Pope--will shew a great deal of candour if they approve of this.' + +Of the Epistle of ELOISA, we are told by the obscure writer of a poem +called Sawney, 'That because Prior's Henry and Emma charmed the finest +tastes, our author writ his Eloise in opposition to it, but forgot +innocence and virtue: if you take away her tender thoughts and her +fierce desires, all the rest is of no value.' In which, methinks, his +judgment resembleth that of a French tailor on a villa and gardens by +the Thames: 'All this is very fine, but take away the river and it is +good for nothing.' + +But very contrary hereunto was the opinion of + +MR PRIOR + +himself, saying in his Alma-- + +'O Abelard! ill-fated youth, +Thy tale will justify this truth. +But well I weet thy cruel wrong +Adorns a nobler poet's song: +Dan Pope, for thy misfortune grieved, +With kind concern and skill has weaved +A silken web; and ne'er shall fade +Its colours: gently has he laid +The mantle o'er thy sad distress, +And Venus shall the texture bless,'[153] &c. + +Come we now to his translation of the ILIAD, celebrated by numerous +pens, yet shall it suffice to mention the indefatigable + +SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE, KT., + +who (though otherwise a severe censurer of our author) yet styleth this +a 'laudable translation.'[154] That ready writer, + +MR OLDMIXON, + +in his forementioned essay, frequently commends the same. And the +painful + +MR LEWIS THEOBALD + +thus extols it: 'The spirit of Homer breathes all through this +translation.--I am in doubt whether I should most admire the justness to +the original, or the force and beauty of the language, or the sounding +variety of the numbers: but when I find all these meet, it puts me in +mind of what the poet says of one of his heroes, that he alone raised +and flung with ease a weighty stone, that two common men could not lift +from the ground; just so, one single person has performed in this +translation what I once despaired to have seen done by the force of +several masterly hands.'[155] Indeed, the same gentleman appears to have +changed his sentiment in his Essay on the Art of Sinking in Reputation +(printed in Mist's Journal, March 30, 1728,) where he says thus:--'In +order to sink in reputation, let him take into his head to descend into +Homer (let the world wonder, as it will, how the devil he got there), +and pretend to do him into English, so his version denote his neglect of +the manner how.' Strange variation! We are told in + +MIST'S JOURNAL, JUNE 8, + +'That this translation of the Iliad was not in all respects conformable +to the fine taste of his friend, Mr Addison; insomuch that he employed a +younger Muse in an undertaking of this kind, which he supervised +himself.' Whether Mr Addison did find it conformable to his taste or +not, best appears from his own testimony the year following its +publication, in these words: + +MR ADDISON, FREEHOLDER, NO. 40. + +'When I consider myself as a British freeholder, I am in a particular +manner pleased with the labours of those who have improved our language +with the translations of old Greek and Latin authors.--We have already +most of their historians in our own tongue, and what is more for the +honour of our language, it has been taught to express with elegance the +greatest of their poets in each nation. The illiterate among our own +countrymen may learn to judge from Dryden's Virgil of the most perfect +epic performance. And those parts of Homer which have been published +already by Mr Pope, give us reason to think that the Iliad will appear +in English with as little disadvantage to that immortal poem.' + +As to the rest, there is a slight mistake, for this younger Muse was an +elder: nor was the gentleman (who is a friend of our author) employed by +Mr Addison to translate it after him, since he saith himself that he did +it before.[156] Contrariwise that Mr Addison engaged our author in this +work appeareth by declaration thereof in the preface to the Iliad, +printed some time before his death, and by his own letters of October +26, and November 2, 1713, where he declares it his opinion that no other +person was equal to it. + +Next comes his Shakspeare on the stage: 'Let him (quoth one, whom I take +to be + +MR THEOBALD, MIST'S JOURNAL, JUNE 8, 1728,) + +publish such an author as he has least studied, and forget to discharge +even the dull duty of an editor. In this project let him lend the +bookseller his name (for a competent sum of money) to promote the credit +of an exorbitant subscription.' Gentle reader, be pleased to cast thine +eye on the proposal below quoted, and on what follows (some months after +the former assertion) in the same journalist of June 8. 'The bookseller +proposed the book by subscription, and raised some thousands of pounds +for the same: I believe the gentleman did not share in the profits of +this extravagant subscription. + +'After the Iliad, he undertook (saith + +MIST'S JOURNAL, JUNE 8, 1728,) + +the sequel of that work, the Odyssey; and having secured the success by +a numerous subscription, he employed some underlings to perform what, +according to his proposals, should come from his own hands.' To which +heavy charge we can in truth oppose nothing but the words of + +MR POPE'S PROPOSAL FOR THE ODYSSEY, (PRINTED BY J. WATTS, JAN. 10, +1724.) + +'I take this occasion to declare that the subscription for Shakspeare +belongs wholly to Mr Tonson: And that the benefit of this proposal is +not solely for my own use, but for that of two of my friends, who have +assisted me in this work.' But these very gentlemen are extolled above +our poet himself in another of Mist's Journals, March 30, 1728, saying, +'That he would not advise Mr Pope to try the experiment again of getting +a great part of a book done by assistants, lest those extraneous parts +should unhappily ascend to the sublime, and retard the declension of the +whole.' Behold! these underlings are become good writers! + +If any say, that before the said proposals were printed, the +subscription was begun without declaration of such assistance, verily +those who set it on foot, or (as their term is) secured it, to wit, the +Right Honourable the Lord Viscount Harcourt, were he living, would +testify, and the Right Honourable the Lord Bathurst, now living, doth +testify the same is a falsehood. + +Sorry I am, that persons professing to be learned, or of whatever rank +of authors, should either falsely tax, or be falsely taxed. Yet let us, +who are only reporters, be impartial in our citations, and proceed. + +MIST'S JOURNAL, JUNE 8, 1728. + +'Mr Addison raised this author from obscurity, obtained him the +acquaintance and friendship of the whole body of our nobility, and +transferred his powerful interests with those great men to this rising +bard, who frequently levied by that means unusual contributions on the +public.' Which surely cannot be, if, as the author of The Dunciad +Dissected reporteth, 'Mr Wycherley had before introduced him into a +familiar acquaintance with the greatest peers and brightest wits then +living.' + +'No sooner (saith the same journalist) was his body lifeless, but this +author, reviving his resentment, libelled the memory of his departed +friend; and, what was still more heinous, made the scandal public.' +Grievous the accusation! unknown the accuser! the person accused no +witness in his own cause; the person, in whose regard accused, dead! But +if there be living any one nobleman whose friendship, yea, any one +gentleman whose subscription Mr Addison procured to our author, let him +stand forth that truth may appear! _Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates, sed +magis amica veritas_. In verity, the whole story of the libel is a lie. +Witness those persons of integrity, who, several years before Mr +Addison's decease, did see and approve of the said verses, in nowise a +libel but a friendly rebuke sent privately in our author's own hand to +Mr Addison himself, and never made public, till after their own journals +and Curll had printed the same. One name alone, which I am here +authorised to declare, will sufficiently evince this truth, that of the +Eight Honourable the Earl of Burlington. + +Next is he taxed with a crime (in the opinion of some authors, I doubt, +more heinous than any in morality) to wit, plagiarism, from the +inventive and quaint-conceited + +JAMES MOORE SMITH, GENT. + +'Upon reading the third volume of Pope's Miscellanies, I found five +lines which I thought excellent; and happening to praise them, a +gentleman produced a modern comedy (the Rival Modes) published last +year, where were the same verses to a tittle. These gentlemen are +undoubtedly the first plagiaries that pretend to make a reputation by +stealing from a man's works in his own life-time, and out of a public +print.'[157] Let us join to this what is written by the author of the +Rival Modes, the said Mr James Moore Smith, in a letter to our author +himself, who had informed him, a month before that play was acted, Jan. +27, 1726-7, that 'these verses, which he had before given him leave to +insert in it, would be known for his, some copies being got abroad. He +desires, nevertheless, that since the lines had been read in his comedy +to several, Mr P. would not deprive it of them,' &c. Surely if we add +the testimonies of the Lord Bolingbroke, of the lady to whom the said +verses were originally addressed, of Hugh Bethel, Esq., and others, who +knew them as our author's, long before the said gentleman composed his +play, it is hoped the ingenuous that affect not error will rectify their +opinion by the suffrage of so honourable personages. + +And yet followeth another charge, insinuating no less than his enmity +both to Church and State, which could come from no other informer than +the said + +MR JAMES MOORE SMITH. + +'The Memoirs of a Parish Clerk was a very dull and unjust abuse of a +person who wrote in defence of our religion and constitution, and who +has been dead many years.'[158] This seemeth also most untrue, it being +known to divers that these memoirs were written at the seat of the Lord +Harcourt in Oxfordshire, before that excellent person (Bishop Burnet's) +death, and many years before the appearance of that history of which +they are pretended to be an abuse. Most true it is that Mr Moore had +such a design, and was himself the man who pressed Dr Arbuthnot and Mr +Pope to assist him therein; and that he borrowed those memoirs of our +author, when that history came forth, with intent to turn them to such +abuse. But being able to obtain from our author but one single hint, and +either changing his mind, or having more mind than ability, he contented +himself to keep the said memoirs, and read them as his own to all his +acquaintance. A noble person there is, into whose company Mr Pope once +chanced to introduce him, who well remembereth the conversation of Mr +Moore to have turned upon the 'contempt he had for the work of that +reverend prelate, and how full he was of a design he declared himself to +have of exposing it.' This noble person is the Earl of Peterborough. + +Here in truth should we crave pardon of all the foresaid right +honourable and worthy personages, for having mentioned them in the same +page with such weekly riff-raff railers and rhymers, but that we had +their ever-honoured commands for the same; and that they are introduced +not as witnesses in the controversy, but as witnesses that cannot be +controverted; not to dispute, but to decide. + +Certain it is, that dividing our writers into two classes, of such who +were acquaintance, and of such who were strangers to our author; the +former are those who speak well, and the other those who speak evil of +him. Of the first class, the most noble + +JOHN DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM + +sums up his character in these lines: + +'And yet so wondrous, so sublime a thing, +As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing, +Unless I justly could at once commend +A good companion, and as firm a friend; +One moral, or a mere well-natured deed, +Can all desert in sciences exceed.'[159] + +So also is he deciphered by the honourable + +SIMON HARCOURT. + +'Say, wondrous youth, what column wilt thou choose, +What laurell'd arch, for thy triumphant Muse? +Though each great ancient court thee to his shrine, +Though every laurel through the dome be thine. +Go to the good and just, an awful train! +Thy soul's delight.'[160] + +Recorded in like manner for his virtuous disposition and gentle bearing, +by the ingenious + +MR WALTER HART, + +in this apostrophe: + +'Oh! ever worthy, ever crown'd with praise! +Bless'd in thy life, and bless'd in all thy lays. +Add, that the Sisters every thought refine, +And even thy life be faultless as thy line. +Yet Envy still with fiercer rage pursues, +Obscures the virtue, and defames the Muse. +A soul like thine, in pain, in grief, resign'd, +Views with just scorn the malice of mankind.'[161] + +The witty and moral satirist, + +DR EDWARD YOUNG, + +wishing some check to the corruption and evil manners of the times, +calleth out upon our poet to undertake a task so worthy of his virtue: + +'Why slumbers Pope, who leads the Muses' train, +Nor hears that Virtue, which he loves, complain?'[162] + +MR MALLET, + +in his epistle on Verbal Criticism: + +'Whose life, severely scann'd, transcends his lays; +For wit supreme is but his second praise.' + +MR HAMMOND, + +that delicate and correct imitator of Tibullus, in his Love Elegies, +Elegy xiv.: + +'Now, fired by Pope and Virtue, leave the age, +In low pursuit of self-undoing wrong, +And trace the author through his moral page, +Whose blameless life still answers to his song.' + +MR THOMSON, + +in his elegant and philosophical poem of the Seasons: + +'Although not sweeter his own Homer sings, +Yet is his life the more endearing song.' + +To the same tune also singeth that learned clerk of Suffolk, + +MR WILLIAM BROOME. + +'Thus, nobly rising in fair Virtue's cause, +From thy own life transcribe the unerring laws.'[163] + +And to close all, hear the reverend Dean of St Patrick's: + +'A soul with every virtue fraught, +By patriots, priests, and poets taught. +Whose filial piety excels +Whatever Grecian story tells. +A genius for each business fit, +Whose meanest talent is his wit,' &c. + +Let us now recreate thee by turning to the other side, and showing his +character drawn by those with whom he never conversed, and whose +countenances he could not know, though turned against him: first again, +commencing with the high-voiced and never-enough quoted + +MR JOHN DENNIS, + +who, in his 'Reflections on the Essay on Criticism,' thus describeth +him, 'A little affected hypocrite, who has nothing in his mouth but +candour, truth, friendship, good-nature, humanity, and magnanimity. He +is so great a lover of falsehood, that, whenever he has a mind to +calumniate his cotemporaries, he brands them with some defect which is +just contrary to some good quality for which all their friends and their +acquaintance commend them. He seems to have a particular pique to people +of quality, and authors of that rank. He must derive his religion from +St Omer's.' But in the character of Mr P. and his writings (printed by +S. Popping, 1716), he saith, 'Though he is a professor of the worst +religion, yet he laughs at it;' but that 'nevertheless he is a virulent +Papist; and yet a pillar for the Church of England.' + +Of both which opinions + +MR LEWIS THEOBALD + +seems also to be; declaring, in Mist's Journal of June 22, 1718--'That, +if he is not shrewdly abused, he made it his practice to cackle to both +parties in their own sentiments.' But, as to his pique against people of +quality, the same journalist doth not agree, but saith (May 8, 1728)-- +'He had, by some means or other, the acquaintance and friendship of the +whole body of our nobility.' + +However contradictory this may appear, Mr Dennis and Gildon, in the +character last cited, make it all plain, by assuring us, 'That he is a +creature that reconciles all contradictions; he is a beast, and a man; a +Whig, and a Tory; a writer (at one and the same time) of Guardians and +Examiners;[164] an assertor of liberty, and of the dispensing power of +kings; a Jesuitical professor of truth, a base and a foul pretender to +candour.' So that, upon the whole account, we must conclude him either +to have been a great hypocrite, or a very honest man; a terrible imposer +upon both parties, or very moderate to either. + +Be it as to the judicious reader shall seem good. Sure it is, he is +little favoured of certain authors, whose wrath is perilous: for one +declares he ought to have a price set on his head, and to be hunted down +as a wild beast.[165] Another protests that he does not know what may +happen; advises him to insure his person; says he has bitter enemies, +and expressly declares it will be well if he escapes with his life.[166] +One desires he would cut his own throat, or hang himself.[167] + +But Pasquin seemed rather inclined it should be done by the Government, +representing him engaged in grievous designs with a lord of Parliament, +then under prosecution.[168] Mr Dennis himself hath written to a +minister, that he is one of the most dangerous persons in this +kingdom;[169] and assureth the public, that he is an open and mortal +enemy to his country; a monster, that will, one day, shew as daring a +soul as a mad Indian, who runs a-muck to kill the first Christian he +meets.[170] Another gives information of treason discovered in his +poem.[171] Mr Curll boldly supplies an imperfect verse with kings and +princesses.[172] And one Matthew Concanen, yet more impudent, publishes +at length the two most sacred names in this nation, as members of the +Dunciad.[173] + +This is prodigious! yet it is almost as strange, that in the midst of +these invectives his greatest enemies have (I know not how) borne +testimony to some merit in him. + +MR THEOBALD, + +in censuring his Shakspeare, declares, 'He has so great an esteem for Mr +Pope, and so high an opinion of his genius and excellencies, that, +notwithstanding he professes a veneration almost rising to idolatry for +the writings of this inimitable poet, he would be very both even to do +him justice, at the expense of that other gentleman's character.'[174] + +MR CHARLES GILDON, + +after having violently attacked him in many pieces, at last came to wish +from his heart, 'That Mr Pope would be prevailed upon to give us Ovid's +Epistles by his hand, for it is certain we see the original of Sappho to +Pliaon with much more life and likeness in his version, than in that of +Sir Car Scrope. And this,' he adds, 'is the more to be wished, because +in the English tongue we have scarce anything truly and naturally +written upon love.'[175] He also, in taxing Sir Richard Blackmore for +his heterodox opinions of Homer, challengeth him to answer what Mr Pope +hath said in his preface to that poet. + +MR OLDMIXON + +calls him a great master of our tongue; declares 'the purity and +perfection of the English language to be found in his Homer; and, saying +there are more good verses in Dryden's Virgil than in any other work, +excepts this of our author only.'[176] + +THE AUTHOR OF A LETTER TO MR CIBBER + +says, 'Pope was so good a versifier [once], that, his predecessor, Mr +Dryden, and his cotemporary, Mr Prior, excepted, the harmony of his +numbers is equal to anybody's. And that he had all the merit that a man +can have that way.'[177] And + +MR THOMAS COOKE, + +after much blemishing our author's Homer, crieth out-- + +'But in his other works what beauties shine, +While sweetest music dwells in every line! +These he admired--on these he stamp'd his praise, +And bade them live to brighten future days.'[178] + +So also one who takes the name of + +H. STANHOPE, + +the maker of certain verses to Duncan Campbell,[179] in that poem, which +is wholly a satire on Mr Pope, confesseth-- + +''Tis true, if finest notes alone could show +(Tuned justly high, or regularly low) +That we should fame to these mere vocals give, +Pope more than we can offer should receive: +For when some gliding river is his theme, +His lines run smoother than the smoothest stream,' &c. + +MIST'S JOURNAL, JUNE 8, 1728. + +Although he says, 'The smooth numbers of the Dunciad are all that +recommend it, nor has it any other merit,' yet that same paper hath +these words: 'The author is allowed to be a perfect master of an easy +and elegant versification. In all his works we find the most happy turns +and natural similes, wonderfully short and thick sown.' + +The Essay on the Dunciad also owns (p. 25) it is very full of beautiful +images. But the panegyric which crowns all that can be said on this poem +is bestowed by our laureate, + +MR COLLEY CIBBER, + +who 'grants it to be a better poem of its kind than ever was writ:' but +adds, 'it was a victory over a parcel of poor wretches, whom it was +almost cowardice to conquer.--A man might as well triumph for having +killed so many silly flies that offended him. Could he have let them +alone, by this time, poor souls! they had all been buried in +oblivion.'[180] Here we see our excellent laureate allows the justice of +the satire on every man in it but himself, as the great Mr Dennis did +before him. + +The said + +MR DENNIS AND MR GILDON, + +in the most furious of all their works (the forecited Character, p. 5), +do in concert confess, 'That some men of good understanding value him +for his rhymes.' And (p. 17), 'That he has got, like Mr Bayes in the +Rehearsal (that is, like Mr Dryden), a notable knack at rhyming, and +writing smooth verse.' + +Of his Essay on Man, numerous were the praises bestowed by his avowed +enemies, in the imagination that the same was not written by him, as it +was printed anonymously. + +Thus sang of it even + +BEZALEEL MORRIS. + +'Auspicious bard! while all admire thy strain, +All but the selfish, ignorant, and vain; +I, whom no bribe to servile flattery drew, +Must pay the tribute to thy merit due: +Thy Muse, sublime, significant, and clear, +Alike informs the soul, and charms the ear,' &c. + +And + +MR LEONARD WELSTED + +thus wrote[181] to the unknown author, on the first publication of the +said Essay:--'I must own, after the reception which the vilest and most +immoral ribaldry hath lately met with, I was surprised to see what I had +long despaired--a performance deserving the name of a poet. Such, sir, +is your work. It is, indeed, above all commendation, and ought to have +been published in an age and country more worthy of it. If my testimony +be of weight anywhere, you are sure to have it in the amplest manner,' +&c. + +Thus we see every one of his works hath been extolled by one or other of +his most inveterate enemies; and to the success of them all, they do +unanimously give testimony. But it is sufficient, _instar omnium_, to +behold the great critic, Mr Dennis, sorely lamenting it, even from the +Essay on Criticism to this day of the Dunciad! 'A most notorious +instance,' quoth he, 'of the depravity of genius and taste, the +approbation this essay meets with.'[182] 'I can safely affirm, that I +never attacked any of these writings, unless they had success infinitely +beyond their merit. This, though an empty, has been a popular scribbler. +The epidemic madness of the times has given him reputation.'[183] 'If, +after the cruel treatment so many extraordinary men (Spencer, Lord +Bacon, Ben. Jonson, Milton, Butler, Otway, and others) have received +from this country, for these last hundred years, I should shift the +scene, and show all that penury changed at once to riot and profuseness, +and more squandered away upon one object than would have satisfied the +greater part of those extraordinary men, the reader to whom this one +creature should be unknown would fancy him a prodigy of art and nature, +would believe that all the great qualities of these persons were centred +in him alone. But if I should venture to assure him that the people of +England had made such a choice, the reader would either believe me a +malicious enemy and slanderer, or that the reign of the last (Queen +Anne's) ministry was designed by fate to encourage fools.'[184] + +But it happens that this our poet never had any place, pension, or +gratuity, in any shape, from the said glorious queen, or any of her +ministers. All he owed, in the whole course of his life, to any court, +was a subscription, for his Homer, of L200 from King George I., and L100 +from the Prince and Princess. + +However, lest we imagine our author's success was constant and +universal, they acquaint us of certain works in a less degree of repute, +whereof, although owned by others, yet do they assure us he is the +writer. Of this sort Mr Dennis[185] ascribes to him two farces, whose +names he does not tell, but assures us that there is not one jest in +them; and an imitation of Horace, whose title he does not mention, but +assures us it is much more execrable than all his works.[186] The Daily +Journal, May 11, 1728, assures us 'He is below Tom D'Urfey in the drama, +because (as that writer thinks) the Marriage-Hater Matched, and the +Boarding School, are better than the What-d'-ye-call-it,' which is not +Mr P.'s, but Mr Gay's. Mr Gildon assures us, in his New Rehearsal, p. +48, 'That he was writing a play of the Lady Jane Grey;' but it +afterwards proved to be Mr Howe's. We are assured by another, 'He wrote +a pamphlet called Dr Andrew Tripe,'[187] which proved to be one Dr +Wagstaff's. Mr Theobald assures us in Mist of the 27th April, 'That the +Treatise of the Pro-found is very dull, and that Mr Pope is the author +of it.' The writer of Gulliveriana is of another opinion, and says, 'The +whole, or greatest part, of the merit of this treatise must and can only +be ascribed to Gulliver.'[188] (Here, gentle reader! cannot I but smile +at the strange blindness and positiveness of men, knowing the said +treatise to appertain to none other but to me, Martinus Scriblerus.) We +are assured, in _Mist_ of June 8, 'That his own plays and farces would +better have adorned the Dunciad than those of Mr Theobald, for he had +neither genius for tragedy nor comedy;' which, whether true or not, is +not easy to judge, inasmuch as he hath attempted neither--unless we will +take it for granted, with Mr Cibber, that his being once very angry at +hearing a friend's play abused was an infallible proof the play was his +own, the said Mr Cibber thinking it impossible for a man to be much +concerned for any but himself: 'Now let any man judge,' saith he, 'by +this concern, who was the true mother of the child?'[189] + +But from all that hath been said, the discerning reader will collect, +that it little availed our author to have any candour, since, when he +declared he did not write for others, it was not credited; as little to +have any modesty, since, when he declined writing in any way himself, +the presumption of others was imputed to him. If he singly enterprised +one great work, he was taxed of boldness and madness to a prodigy;[190] +if he took assistants in another, it was complained of, and represented +as a great injury to the public.[191] The loftiest heroics, the lowest +ballads, treatises against the State or Church, satires on lords and +ladies, raillery on wits and authors, squabbles with booksellers, or +even full and true accounts of monsters, poisons, and murders; of any +hereof was there nothing so good, nothing so bad, which hath not at one +or other season been to him ascribed. If it bore no author's name, then +lay he concealed; if it did, he fathered it upon that author to be yet +better concealed: if it resembled any of his styles, then was it +evident; if it did not, then disguised he it on set purpose. Yea, even +direct oppositions in religion, principles, and politics, have equally +been supposed in him inherent. Surely a most rare and singular +character! Of which, let the reader make what he can. + +Doubtless most commentators would hence take occasion to turn all to +their author's advantage; and, from the testimony of his very enemies, +would affirm that his capacity was boundless, as well as his +imagination; that he was a perfect master of all styles, and all +arguments; and that there was in those times no other writer, in any +kind, of any degree of excellence, save he himself. But as this is not +our own sentiment, we shall determine on nothing, but leave thee, gentle +reader, to steer thy judgment equally between various opinions, and to +choose whether thou wilt incline to the testimonies of authors avowed, +or of authors concealed--of those who knew him, or of those who knew him +not. + +P. + + * * * * * + +MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS OF THE POEM. + +This poem, as it celebrateth the most grave and ancient of things, +Chaos, Night, and Dulness; so is it of the most grave and ancient kind. +Homer (saith Aristotle) was the first who gave the form, and (saith +Horace) who adapted the measure, to heroic poesy. But even before this, +may be rationally presumed from what the ancients have left written, was +a piece by Homer, composed of like nature and matter with this of our +poet. For of epic sort it appeareth to have been, yet of matter surely +not unpleasant, witness what is reported of it by the learned Archbishop +Eustathius, in Odyss. x., and accordingly Aristotle, in his Poetic, +chap, iv., does further set forth, that as the Iliad and Odyssey gave +example to tragedy, so did this poem to comedy its first idea. + +From these authors also it should seem that the hero or chief personage +of it was no less obscure, and his understanding and sentiments no less +quaint and strange (if indeed not more so), than any of the actors of +our poem. Margites was the name of this personage, whom antiquity +recordeth to have been Dunce the first; and surely, from what we hear of +him, not unworthy to be the root of so spreading a tree and so numerous +a posterity. The poem therefore celebrating him was properly and +absolutely a Dunciad; which, though now unhappily lost, yet is its +nature sufficiently known by the infallible tokens aforesaid. And thus +it doth appear that the first Dunciad was the first epic poem, written +by Homer himself, and anterior even to the Iliad or Odyssey. + +Now, forasmuch as our poet had translated those two famous works of +Homer which are yet left, he did conceive it in some sort his duty to +imitate that also which was lost; and was therefore induced to bestow on +it the same form which Homer's is reported to have had, namely, that of +epic poem; with a title also framed after the ancient Greek manner, to +wit, that of Dunciad. + +Wonderful it is that so few of the moderns have been stimulated to +attempt some Dunciad! since, in the opinion of the multitude, it might +cost less pain and oil than an imitation of the greater epic. But +possible it is also, that, on due reflection, the maker might find it +easier to paint a Charlemagne, a Brute, or a Godfrey, with just pomp and +dignity heroic, than a Margites, a Codrus, or a Flecknoe. + +We shall next declare the occasion and the cause which moved our poet to +this particular work. He lived in those days, when (after Providence had +permitted the invention of printing as a scourge for the sins of the +learned) paper also became so cheap, and printers so numerous, that a +deluge of authors covered the land; whereby not only the peace of the +honest unwriting subject was daily molested, but unmerciful demands were +made of his applause, yea of his money, by such as would neither earn +the one nor deserve the other. At the same time, the licence of the +press was such, that it grew dangerous to refuse them either: for they +would forthwith publish slanders unpunished, the authors being +anonymous, and skulking under the wings of publishers, a set of men who +never scrupled to vend either calumny or blasphemy, as long as the town +would call for it. + +Now our author,[192] living in those times, did conceive it an endeavour +well worthy an honest satirist to dissuade the dull and punish the +wicked, the only way that was left. In that public-spirited view he laid +the plan of this poem, as the greatest service he was capable (without +much hurt, or being slain) to render his dear country. First, taking +things from their original, he considereth the causes creative of such +authors--namely, dulness and poverty; the one born with them, the other +contracted by neglect of their proper talents, through self-conceit of +greater abilities. This truth he wrappeth in an allegory[193] (as the +construction of epic poesy requireth), and feigns that one of these +goddesses had taken up her abode with the other, and that they jointly +inspired all such writers and such works. He proceedeth to show the +qualities they bestow on these authors,[194] and the effects they +produce;[195] then the materials, or stock, with which they furnish +them;[196] and (above all) that self-opinion[197] which causeth it to +seem to themselves vastly greater than it is, and is the prime motive of +their setting up in this sad and sorry merchandise. The great power of +these goddesses acting in alliance (whereof as the one is the mother of +industry, so is the other of plodding) was to be exemplified in some one +great and remarkable action:[198] and none could be more so than that +which our poet hath chosen, viz., the restoration of the reign of Chaos +and Night, by the ministry of Dulness their daughter, in the removal of +her imperial seat from the city to the polite world; as the action of +the AEneid is the restoration of the empire of Troy, by the removal of +the race from thence to Latium. But as Homer singing only the wrath of +Achilles, yet includes in his poem the whole history of the Trojan war; +in like manner our author hath drawn into this single action the whole +history of Dulness and her children. + +A person must next be fixed upon to support this action. This phantom in +the poet's mind must have a name:[199] He finds it to be ----; and he +becomes, of course, the hero of the poem. + +The fable being thus, according to the best example, one and entire, as +contained in the proposition, the machinery is a continued chain of +allegories, setting forth the whole power, ministry, and empire of +Dulness, extended through her subordinate instruments, in all her +various operations. + +This is branched into episodes, each of which hath its moral apart, +though all conducive to the main end. The crowd assembled in the second +book demonstrates the design to be more extensive than to bad poets +only, and that we may expect other episodes of the patrons, encouragers, +or paymasters of such authors, as occasion shall bring them forth. And +the third book, if well considered, seemeth to embrace the whole world. +Each of the games relateth to some or other vile class of writers: the +first concerneth the Plagiary, to whom he giveth the name of More; the +second the libellous Novelist, whom he styleth Eliza; the third, the +flattering Dedicator; the fourth, the bawling Critic, or noisy Poet; the +fifth, the dark and dirty Party-writer; and so of the rest; assigning to +each some proper name or other, such as he could find. + +As for the characters, the public hath already acknowledged how justly +they are drawn: the manners are so depicted, and the sentiments so +peculiar to those to whom applied, that surely to transfer them to any +other or wiser personages would be exceeding difficult: and certain it +is, that every person concerned, being consulted apart, hath readily +owned the resemblance of every portrait, his own excepted. So Mr Cibber +calls them 'a parcel of poor wretches, so many silly flies;' but adds, +'our author's wit is remarkably more bare and barren whenever it would +fall foul on Cibber, than upon any other person whatever.'[200] + +The descriptions are singular, the comparisons very quaint, the +narration various, yet of one colour. The purity and chastity of diction +is so preserved, that in the places most suspicious, not the words but +only the images have been censured, and yet are those images no other +than have been sanctified by ancient and classical authority (though, as +was the manner of those good times, not so curiously wrapped up), yea, +and commented upon by the most grave doctors and approved critics. + +As it beareth the name of Epic, it is thereby subjected to such severe +indispensable rules as are laid on all neoterics--a strict imitation of +the ancients; insomuch that any deviation, accompanied with whatever +poetic beauties, hath always been censured by the sound critic. How +exact that imitation hath been in this piece, appeareth not only by its +general structure, but by particular allusions infinite, many whereof +have escaped both the commentator and poet himself; yea, divers by his +exceeding diligence are so altered and interwoven with the rest, that +several have already been, and more will be, by the ignorant abused, as +altogether and originally his own. + +In a word, the whole poem proveth itself to be the work of our author +when his faculties were in full vigour and perfection, at that exact +time when years have ripened the judgment without diminishing the +imagination; which by good critics is held to be punctually at forty. +For at that season it was that Virgil finished his Georgics; and Sir +Richard Blackmore at the like age composing his Arthurs, declared the +same to be the very _acme_ and pitch of life for epic poesy--though +since he hath altered it to sixty, the year in which he published his +Alfred.[201] True it is, that the talents for criticism--namely, +smartness, quick censure, vivacity of remark, certainty of asseveration, +indeed all but acerbity--seem rather the gifts of youth than of riper +age. But it is far otherwise in poetry; witness the works of Mr Rymer +and Mr Dennis, who, beginning with criticism, became afterwards such +poets as no age hath paralleled. With good reason, therefore, did our +author choose to write his essay on that subject at twenty, and reserve +for his maturer years this great and wonderful work of the Dunciad. + +P. + + +RICARDUS ARISTARCHUS OF THE HERO OF THE POEM. + +Of the nature of Dunciad in general, whence derived, and on what +authority founded, as well as of the art and conduct of this our poem in +particular, the learned and laborious Scriblerus hath, according to his +manner, and with tolerable share of judgment, dissertated. But when he +cometh to speak of the person of the hero fitted for such poem, in truth +he miserably halts and hallucinates. For, misled by one Monsieur Bossu, +a Gallic critic, he prateth of I cannot tell what phantom of a hero, +only raised up to support the fable. A putrid conceit! As if Homer and +Virgil, like modern undertakers, who first build their house, and then +seek out for a tenant, had contrived the story of a war and a wandering, +before they once thought either of Achilles or AEneas. We shall therefore +set our good brother and the world also right in this particular, by +assuring them, that, in the greater epic, the prime intention of the +Muse is to exalt heroic virtue, in order to propagate the love of it +among the children of men; and, consequently, that the poet's first +thought must needs be turned upon a real subject meet for laud and +celebration; not one whom he is to make, but one whom he may find, truly +illustrious. This is the _primum mobile_ of his poetic world, whence +everything is to receive life and motion. For this subject being found, +he is immediately ordained, or rather acknowledged, a hero, and put upon +such action as befitteth the dignity of his character. + +But the Muse ceaseth not here her eagle-flight. For sometimes, satiated +with the contemplation of these suns of glory, she turneth downward on +her wing, and darts with Jove's lightning on the goose and serpent kind. +For we may apply to the Muse, in her various moods, what an ancient +master of wisdom affirmeth of the gods in general: 'Si Dii non +irascuntur impiis et injustis, nec pios utique justosque diligunt. In +rebusenim diversis, aut in utramque partem moveri necesse est, aut in +neutram. Itaque qui bonos diligit, et malos odit; et qui malos non odit, +nec bonos diligit. Quia et diligere bonos ex odio malorum venit; et +malos odisse ex bonorum caritate descendit.' Which, in our vernacular +idiom, may be thus interpreted: 'If the gods be not provoked at evil +men, neither are they delighted with the good and just. For contrary +objects must either excite contrary affections, or no affections at all. +So that he who loveth good men must at the same time hate the bad; and +he who hateth not bad men cannot love the good; because to love good men +proceedeth from an aversion to evil, and to hate evil men from a +tenderness to the good.' From this delicacy of the Muse arose the little +epic, (more lively and choleric than her elder sister, whose bulk and +complexion incline her to the phlegmatic), and for this some notorious +vehicle of vice and folly was sought out, to make thereof an example. An +early instance of which (nor could it escape the accurate Scriblerus) +the father of epic poem himself affordeth us. From him the practice +descended to the Greek dramatic poets, his offspring, who, in the +composition of their tetralogy, or set of four pieces, were wont to make +the last a satiric tragedy. Happily one of these ancient Dunciads (as we +may well term it) is come down unto us amongst the tragedies of the poet +Euripides. And what doth the reader suppose may be the subject thereof? +Why, in truth, and it is worthy observation, the unequal contention of +an old, dull, debauched buffoon Cyclops, with the heaven-directed +favourite of Minerva; who, after having quietly borne all the monster's +obscene and impious ribaldry, endeth the farce in punishing him with the +mark of an indelible brand in his forehead. May we not then be excused, +if for the future we consider the epics of Homer, Virgil, and Milton, +together with this our poem, as a complete tetralogy, in which the last +worthily holdeth the place or station of the satiric piece? + +Proceed we therefore in our subject. It hath been long, and, alas for +pity! still remaineth a question, whether the hero of the greater epic +should be an honest man? or, as the French critics express it, _un +honnete homme_:[202] but it never admitted of any doubt, but that the +hero of the little epic should be just the contrary. Hence, to the +advantage of our Dunciad, we may observe how much juster the moral of +that poem must needs be, where so important a question is previously +decided. + +But then it is not every knave, nor (let me add) every fool, that is a +fit subject for a Dunciad. There must still exist some analogy, if not +resemblance of qualities, between the heroes of the two poems, and this +in order to admit what neoteric critics call the parody, one of the +liveliest graces of the little epic. Thus, it being agreed that the +constituent qualities of the greater epic hero are wisdom, bravery, and +love, from whence springeth heroic virtue; it followeth that those of +the lesser epic hero should be vanity, impudence, and debauchery, from +which happy assemblage resulteth heroic dulness, the never-dying subject +of this our poem. + +This being confessed, come we now to particulars. It is the character of +true wisdom to seek its chief support and confidence within itself, and +to place that support in the resources which proceed from a conscious +rectitude of will. And are the advantages of vanity, when arising to the +heroic standard, at all short of this self-complacence? Nay, are they +not, in the opinion of the enamoured owner, far beyond it? 'Let the +world (will such an one say) impute to me what folly or weakness they +please; but till wisdom can give me something that will make me more +heartily happy, I am content to be gazed at.'[203] This, we see, is +vanity according to the heroic gauge or measure; not that low and +ignoble species which pretendeth to virtues we have not, but the +laudable ambition of being gazed at for glorying in those vices which +everybody knows we have. 'The world may ask (says he) why I make my +follies public? Why not? I have passed my time very pleasantly with +them.'[204] In short, there is no sort of vanity such a hero would +scruple, but that which might go near to degrade him from his high +station in this our Dunciad--namely, 'Whether it would not be vanity in +him to take shame to himself for not being a wise man?'[205] + +Bravery, the second attribute of the true hero, is courage manifesting +itself in every limb; while its correspondent virtue in the mock hero is +that same courage all collected into the face. And as power when drawn +together must needs have more force and spirit than when dispersed, we +generally find this kind of courage in so high and heroic a degree, that +it insults not only men, but gods. Mezentius is, without doubt, the +bravest character in all the AEneis. But how? His bravery, we know, was a +high courage of blasphemy. And can we say less of this brave man's, who, +having told us that he placed 'his _summum bonum_ in those follies, +which he was not content barely to possess, but would likewise glory +in,' adds, 'If I am misguided, 'tis nature's fault, and I follow +her.'[206] Nor can we be mistaken in making this happy quality a species +of courage, when we consider those illustrious marks of it which made +his face 'more known (as he justly boasteth) than most in the kingdom,' +and his language to consist of what we must allow to be the most daring +figure of speech, that which is taken from the name of God. + +Gentle love, the next ingredient in the true hero's composition, is a +mere bird of passage, or (as Shakspeare calls it) summer-teeming lust, +and evaporates in the heat of youth; doubtless, by that refinement, it +suffers in passing through those certain strainers which our poet +somewhere speaketh of. But when it is let alone to work upon the lees, +it acquireth strength by old age, and becometh a lasting ornament to the +little epic. It is true, indeed, there is one objection to its fitness +for such a use: for not only the ignorant may think it common, but it is +admitted to be so, even by him who best knoweth its value. 'Don't you +think,' argueth he, 'to say only a man has his whore,[207] ought to go +for little or nothing? Because _defendit numerus_; take the first ten +thousand men you meet, and I believe you would be no loser if you betted +ten to one that every single sinner of them, one with another, had been +guilty of the same frailty.'[208] But here he seemeth not to have done +justice to himself: the man is sure enough a hero who hath his lady at +fourscore. How doth his modesty herein lessen the merit of a whole +well-spent life: not taking to himself the commendation (which Horace +accounted the greatest in a theatrical character) of continuing to the +very dregs the same he was from the beginning, + +... 'Servetur ad imum +Qualis ab incepto processerat' ... + +But here, in justice both to the poet and the hero, let us further +remark, that the calling her his whore implieth she was his own, and not +his neighbour's. Truly a commendable continence! and such as Scipio +himself must have applauded. For how much self-denial was exerted not to +covet his neighbour's whore? and what disorders must the coveting her +have occasioned in that society where (according to this political +calculator) nine in ten of all ages have their concubines! + +We have now, as briefly as we could devise, gone through the three +constituent qualities of either hero. But it is not in any, or in all of +these, that heroism properly or essentially resideth. It is a lucky +result rather from the collision of these lively qualities against one +another. Thus, as from wisdom, bravery, and love, ariseth magnanimity, +the object of admiration, which is the aim of the greater epic; so from +vanity, impudence, and debauchery, springeth buffoonery, the source of +ridicule, that 'laughing ornament,' as he well termeth it,[209] of the +little epic. + +He is not ashamed (God forbid he ever should be ashamed!) of this +character, who deemeth that not reason, but risibility, distinguisheth +the human species from the brutal. 'As nature,' saith this profound +philosopher, 'distinguished our species from the mute creation by our +risibility, her design must have been by that faculty as evidently to +raise our happiness, as by our _os sublime_ (our erected faces) to lift +the dignity of our form above them.'[210] All this considered, how +complete a hero must he be, as well as how happy a man, whose risibility +lieth not barely in his muscles, as in the common sort, but (as himself +informeth us) in his very spirits! and whose _os sublime_ is not simply +an erect face, but a brazen head, as should seem by his preferring it to +one of iron, said to belong to the late king of Sweden![211] + +But whatever personal qualities a hero may have, the examples of +Achilles and Aeneas show us, that all those are of small avail without +the constant assistance of the gods--for the subversion and erection of +empires have never been adjudged the work of man. How greatly soever, +then, we may esteem of his high talents, we can hardly conceive his +personal prowess alone sufficient to restore the decayed empire of +Dulness. So weighty an achievement must require the particular favour +and protection of the great--who, being the natural patrons and +supporters of letters, as the ancient gods were of Troy, must first be +drawn off and engaged in another interest, before the total subversion +of them can be accomplished. To surmount, therefore, this last and +greatest difficulty, we have, in this excellent man, a professed +favourite and intimado of the great. And look, of what force ancient +piety was to draw the gods into the party of Aeneas, that, and much +stronger, is modern incense, to engage the great in the party of +Dulness. + +Thus have we essayed to portray or shadow out this noble imp of fame. +But now the impatient reader will be apt to say, if so many and various +graces go to the making up a hero, what mortal shall suffice to bear his +character? Ill hath he read who seeth not, in every trace of this +picture, that individual, all-accomplished person, in whom these rare +virtues and lucky circumstances have agreed to meet and concentre with +the strongest lustre and fullest harmony. + +The good Scriblerus indeed--nay, the world itself--might be imposed on, +in the late spurious editions, by I can't tell what sham hero or +phantom; but it was not so easy to impose on him whom this egregious +error most of all concerned. For no sooner had the fourth book laid open +the high and swelling scene, but he recognised his own heroic acts; and +when he came to the words-- + +'Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines,' + +(though laureate imply no more than one crowned with laurel, as +befitteth any associate or consort in empire), he loudly resented this +indignity to violated majesty--indeed, not without cause, he being there +represented as fast asleep; so misbeseeming the eye of empire, which, +like that of Providence, should never doze nor slumber. 'Hah!' saith he, +'fast asleep, it seems! that's a little too strong. Pert and dull at +least you might have allowed me, but as seldom asleep as any fool.'[212] +However, the injured hero may comfort himself with this reflection, that +though it be a sleep, yet it is not the sleep of death, but of +immortality. Here he will live[213] at least, though not awake; and in +no worse condition than many an enchanted warrior before him. The famous +Durandarte, for instance, was, like him, cast into a long slumber by +Merlin, the British bard and necromancer; and his example, for +submitting to it with a good grace, might be of use to our hero. For +that disastrous knight being sorely pressed or driven to make his answer +by several persons of quality, only replied with a sigh--'Patience, and +shuffle the cards.'[214] + +But now, as nothing in this world, no, not the most sacred or perfect +things either of religion or government, can escape the sting of envy, +methinks I already hear these carpers objecting to the clearness of our +hero's title. + +It would never (say they) have been esteemed sufficient to make an hero +for the Iliad or Aeneis, that Achilles was brave enough to overturn one +empire, or Aeneas pious enough to raise another, had they not been +goddess-born, and princes bred. What, then, did this author mean by +erecting a player instead of one of his patrons (a person 'never a hero +even on the stage,'[215]) to this dignity of colleague in the empire of +Dulness, and achiever of a work that neither old Omar, Attila, nor John +of Leyden could entirely bring to pass? + +To all this we have, as we conceive, a sufficient answer from the Roman +historian, _Fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae_: That every man is the +smith of his own fortune. The politic Florentine, Nicholas Machiavel, +goeth still further, and affirmeth that a man needeth but to believe +himself a hero to be one of the worthiest. 'Let him (saith he) but fancy +himself capable of the highest things, and he will of course be able to +achieve them.' From this principle it follows, that nothing can exceed +our hero's prowess; as nothing ever equalled the greatness of his +conceptions. Hear how he constantly paragons himself; at one time to +Alexander the Great and Charles XII of Sweden, for the excess and +delicacy of his ambition;[216] to Henry IV of France for honest +policy;[217] to the first Brutus, for love of liberty;[218] and to Sir +Robert Walpole, for good government while in power.[219] At another +time, to the godlike Socrates, for his diversions and amusements;[220] +to Horace, Montaigne, and Sir William Temple for an elegant vanity that +maketh them for ever read and admired;[221] to two Lord Chancellors, for +law, from whom, when confederate against him at the bar, he carried away +the prize of eloquence;[222] and, to say all in a word, to the right +reverend the Lord Bishop of London himself, in the art of writing +pastoral letters.[223] + +Nor did his actions fall short of the sublimity of his conceit. In his +early youth he met the Revolution[224] face to face in Nottingham, at a +time when his betters contented themselves with following her. It was +here he got acquainted with old Battle-array, of whom he hath made so +honourable mention in one of his immortal odes. But he shone in courts +as well as camps. He was called up when the nation fell in labour of +this Revolution;[225] and was a gossip at her christening, with the +bishop and the ladies.[226] + +As to his birth, it is true he pretended no relation either to heathen +god or goddess; but, what is as good, he was descended from a maker of +both.[227] And that he did not pass himself on the world for a hero as +well by birth as education was his own fault: for his lineage he +bringeth into his life as an anecdote, and is sensible he had it in his +power to be thought he was nobody's son at all:[228] And what is that +but coming into the world a hero? + +But be it (the punctilious laws of epic poesy so requiring) that a hero +of more than mortal birth must needs be had, even for this we have a +remedy. We can easily derive our hero's pedigree from a goddess of no +small power and authority amongst men, and legitimate and install him +after the right classical and authentic fashion: for like as the ancient +sages found a son of Mars in a mighty warrior, a son of Neptune in a +skilful seaman, a son of Phoebus in a harmonious poet, so have we here, +if need be, a son of Fortune in an artful gamester. And who fitter than +the offspring of Chance to assist in restoring the empire of Night and +Chaos? + +There is, in truth, another objection, of greater weight, namely, 'That +this hero still existeth, and hath not yet finished his earthly course. +For if Solon said well, that no man could be called happy till his +death, surely much less can any one, till then, be pronounced a hero, +this species of men being far more subject than others to the caprices +of fortune and humour.' But to this also we have an answer, that will +(we hope) be deemed decisive. It cometh from himself, who, to cut this +matter short, hath solemnly protested that he will never change or +amend. + +With regard to his vanity, he declareth that nothing shall ever part +them. 'Nature (saith he) hath amply supplied me in vanity--a pleasure +which neither the pertness of wit nor the gravity of wisdom will ever +persuade me to part with.'[229] Our poet had charitably endeavoured to +administer a cure to it: but he telleth us plainly, 'My superiors +perhaps may be mended by him; but for my part I own myself incorrigible. +I look upon my follies as the best part of my fortune.'[230] And with +good reason: we see to what they have brought him! + +Secondly, as to buffoonery, 'Is it (saith he) a time of day for me to +leave off these fooleries, and set up a new character? I can no more put +off my follies than my skin; I have often tried, but they stick too +close to me; nor am I sure my friends are displeased with them, for in +this light I afford them frequent matter of mirth, &c., &c.'[231] Having +then so publicly declared himself incorrigible, he is become dead in law +(I mean the law Epopoeian), and devolveth upon the poet as his property, +who may take him and deal with him as if he had been dead as long as an +old Egyptian hero; that is to say, embowel and embalm him for posterity. + +Nothing therefore (we conceive) remaineth to hinder his own prophecy of +himself from taking immediate effect. A rare felicity! and what few +prophets have had the satisfaction to see alive! Nor can we conclude +better than with that extraordinary one of his, which is conceived in +these oraculous words, 'My dulness will find somebody to do it +right.'[232] + +'Tandem Phoebus adest, morsusque inferre parantem +Congelat, et patulos, ut erant, indurat hiatus.'[233] + + +BY AUTHORITY. + +By virtue of the Authority in Us vested by the Act for subjecting poets +to the power of a licenser, we have revised this piece; where finding +the style and appellation of King to have been given to a certain +pretender, pseudo-poet, or phantom, of the name of Tibbald; and +apprehending the same may be deemed in some sort a reflection on +Majesty, or at least an insult on that Legal Authority which has +bestowed on another person the crown of poesy: We have ordered the said +pretender, pseudo-poet, or phantom, utterly to vanish and evaporate out +of this work: And do declare the said Throne of Poesy from henceforth to +be abdicated and vacant, unless duly and lawfully supplied by the +Laureate himself. And it is hereby enacted, that no other person do +presume to fill the same. + + + +THE DUNCIAD:[234] + +BOOK THE FIRST. + +TO DR JONATHAN SWIFT. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The proposition, the invocation, and the inscription. Then the original +of the great empire of Dulness, and cause of the continuance thereof. +The college of the goddess in the city, with her private academy for +poets in particular; the governors of it, and the four cardinal virtues. +Then the poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting her, on the +evening of a Lord Mayor's day, revolving the long succession of her +sons, and the glories past and to come. She fixes her eye on Bayes to be +the instrument of that great event which is the subject of the poem. He +is described pensive among his books, giving up the cause, and +apprehending the period of her empire: after debating whether to betake +himself to the Church, or to gaming, or to party-writing, he raises an +altar of proper books, and (making first his solemn prayer and +declaration) purposes thereon to sacrifice all his unsuccessful +writings. As the pile is kindled, the goddess, beholding the flame from +her seat, flies and puts it out by casting upon it the poem of Thule. +She forthwith reveals herself to him, transports him to her temple, +unfolds her arts, and initiates him into her mysteries; then announcing +the death of Eusden the poet laureate, anoints him, carries him to +court, and proclaims him successor. + + +The mighty mother, and her son, who brings[235] +The Smithfield Muses[236] to the ear of kings, +I sing. Say you, her instruments, the great! +Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and Fate;[237] +You by whose care, in vain decried and cursed, +Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first: +Say, how the goddess[238] bade Britannia sleep, +And pour'd her spirit o'er the land and deep. + +In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read, +Ere Pallas issued from the Thunderer's head, 10 +Dulness o'er all possess'd her ancient right, +Daughter of Chaos[239] and Eternal Night: +Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave, +Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave, +Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,[240] +She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. + +Still her old empire[241] to restore she tries, +For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies. +O thou! whatever title please thine ear, +Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver![242] 20 +Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, +Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy-chair, +Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,[243] +Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind; +From thy Boeotia though her power retires, +Mourn not, my Swift, at ought our realm acquires. +Here pleased behold her mighty wings outspread +To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead. + +Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, +And laughs to think Monro would take her down, 30 +Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand,[244] +Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand, +One cell there is, conceal'd from vulgar eye, +The cave of Poverty and Poetry. +Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, +Emblem of music caused by emptiness. +Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down, +Escape in monsters, and amaze the town. +Hence Miscellanies spring, the weekly boast +Of Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post:[247] 40 +Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines,[248] +Hence Journals, Medleys, Merc'ries, Magazines: +Sepulchral lies,[249] our holy walls to grace, +And new-year odes,[250] and all the Grub Street race. + +In clouded majesty here Dulness shone; +Four guardian Virtues, round, support her throne: +Fierce champion Fortitude, that knows no fears +Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears: +Calm Temperance, whose blessings those partake +Who hunger and who thirst for scribbling sake: 50 +Prudence, whose glass presents the approaching jail: +Poetic Justice, with her lifted scale, +Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs, +And solid pudding against empty praise. + +Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep, +Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep, +'Till genial Jacob,[251] or a warm third day, +Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play; +How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie, +How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry, 60 +Maggots half-form'd in rhyme exactly meet, +And learn to crawl upon poetic feet. +Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes, +And ductile Dulness new meanders takes; +There motley images her fancy strike, +Figures ill pair'd, and similes unlike. +She sees a mob of metaphors advance, +Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance; +How Tragedy and Comedy embrace; +How Farce and Epic[252] get a jumbled race; 70 +How Time himself stands still at her command, +Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land. +Here gay Description Egypt glads with showers, +Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers; +Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen, +There painted valleys of eternal green; +In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, +And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow. + +All these, and more, the cloud-compelling queen +Beholds through fogs that magnify the scene. 80 +She, tinsell'd o'er in robes of varying hues, +With self-applause her wild creation views; +Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, +And with her own fools-colours gilds them all. + +'Twas on the day,[253] when Thorold rich and grave, +Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave: +(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces, +Glad chains,[254] warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces.) +Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er, +But lived, in Settle's numbers, one day more.[255] 90 +Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay, +Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day; +While pensive poets painful vigils keep, +Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep. +Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls +What city swans once sung within the walls; +Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise, +And sure succession down from Heywood's[256] days. +She saw, with joy, the line immortal run, +Each sire impress'd and glaring in his son: 100 +So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, +Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear. +She saw old Pryn in restless Daniel[257] shine, +And Eusden[258] eke out Blackmore's endless line; +She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's[259] poor page, +And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.[260] + +In each she marks her image full express'd, +But chief in Bayes's monster-breeding breast; +Bayes formed by nature stage and town to bless, +And act, and be, a coxcomb with success. 110 +Dulness with transport eyes the lively dunce, +Remembering she herself was pertness once. +Now (shame to Fortune![261]) an ill run at play +Blank'd his bold visage, and a thin third day; +Swearing and supperless the hero sate, +Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damn'd his fate. +Then gnaw'd his pen, then dash'd it on the ground, +Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound! +Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there, +Yet wrote and floundered on, in mere despair. 120 +Round him much embryo, much abortion lay, +Much future ode, and abdicated play; +Nonsense precipitate, like running lead, +That slipp'd through cracks and zig-zags of the head; +All that on Folly Frenzy could beget, +Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit. +Next, o'er his books his eyes began to roll, +In pleasing memory of all he stole, +How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug, +And suck'd all o'er, like an industrious bug. 130 +Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes,[262] and here +The frippery of crucified Moliere; +There hapless Shakspeare, yet of Tibbald[263] sore, +Wish'd he had blotted[264] for himself before. +The rest on outside merit but presume, +Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room; +Such with their shelves as due proportion hold, +Or their fond parents dress'd in red and gold; +Or where the pictures for the page atone, +And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own. 140 +Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great;[265] +There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines complete:[266] +Here all his suffering brotherhood retire, +And 'scape the martyrdom of Jakes and fire: +A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome +Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome.[267] + +But, high above, more solid learning shone, +The classics of an age that heard of none; +There Caxton[268] slept, with Wynkyn at his side, +One clasp'd in wood, and one in strong cow-hide; 150 +There, saved by spice, like mummies, many a year, +Dry bodies of divinity appear: +De Lyra[269] there a dreadful front extends, +And here the groaning shelves Philemon[270] bends. + +Of these, twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size, +Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pies, +Inspired he seizes: these an altar raise: +An hecatomb of pure, unsullied lays +That altar crowns: a folio common-place +Founds the whole pile, of all his works the base: 160 +Quartos, octavos, shape the lessening pyre: +A twisted birth-day ode completes the spire. + +Then he: Great tamer of all human art! +First in my care, and ever at my heart; +Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, +With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end, +E'er since Sir Fopling's periwig[271] was praise, +To the last honours of the butt and bays: +O thou! of business the directing soul; +To this our head, like bias to the bowl, 170 +Which, as more ponderous, made its aim more true, +Obliquely waddling to the mark in view; +Oh, ever gracious to perplexed mankind, +Still spread a healing mist before the mind; +And, lest we err by wit's wild dancing light, +Secure us kindly in our native night. +Or, if to wit a coxcomb make pretence, +Guard the sure barrier between that and sense; +Or quite unravel all the reasoning thread, +And hang some curious cobweb in its stead! 180 +As, forced from wind-guns, lead itself can fly, +And ponderous slugs cut swiftly through the sky; +As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe, +The wheels above urged by the load below: +Me Emptiness and Dulness could inspire, +And were my elasticity and fire. +Some demon stole my pen (forgive the offence) +And once betrayed me into common sense: +Else all my prose and verse were much the same; +This, prose on stilts; that, poetry fallen lame. 190 +Did on the stage my fops appear confined? +My life gave ampler lessons to mankind. +Did the dead letter unsuccessful prove? +The brisk example never fail'd to move. +Yet sure, had Heaven decreed to save the state, +Heaven had decreed these works a longer date. +Could Troy be saved by any single hand, +This gray-goose weapon must have made her stand. +What can I now my Fletcher cast aside, +Take up the Bible, once my better guide? 200 +Or tread the path by venturous heroes trod, +This box my thunder, this right hand my god? +Or chair'd at White's amidst the doctors sit, +Teach oaths to gamesters, and to nobles wit? +Or bidst thou rather party to embrace? +(A friend to party thou, and all her race; +'Tis the same rope at different ends they twist; +To Dulness Ridpath is as dear as Mist.[272]) +Shall I, like Curtins, desperate in my zeal, +O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal? 210 +Or rob Rome's ancient geese[273] of all their glories, +And, cackling, save the monarchy of Tories? +Hold--to the minister I more incline; +To serve his cause, O queen! is serving thine. +And see! thy very gazetteers give o'er, +Ev'n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more. +What then remains? Ourself. Still, still remain +Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain. +This brazen brightness, to the squire so dear; +This polish'd hardness, that reflects the peer: 220 +This arch absurd, that wit and fool delights; +This mess, tossed up of Hockley-hole and White's; +Where dukes and butchers join to wreathe my crown, +At once the bear and fiddle[274] of the town. + +O born in sin, and forth in folly brought! +Works damn'd, or to be damn'd (your father's fault)! +Go, purified by flames, ascend the sky, +My better and more Christian progeny! +Unstain'd, untouch'd, and yet in maiden sheets; +While all your smutty sisters walk the streets. 230 +Ye shall not beg, like gratis-given Bland,[275] +Sent with a pass, and vagrant through the land; +Nor sail with Ward[276] to ape-and-monkey climes, +Where vile Mundungus trucks for viler rhymes: +Not sulphur-tipp'd, emblaze an ale-house fire; +Not wrap up oranges, to pelt your sire! +Oh, pass more innocent, in infant state, +To the mild limbo of our father Tate:[277] +Or peaceably forgot, at once be blest +In Shadwell's bosom with eternal rest! 240 +Soon to that mass of nonsense to return, +Where things destroyed are swept to things unborn. + +With that, a tear (portentous sign of grace!) +Stole from the master of the sevenfold face: +And thrice he lifted high the birth-day brand, +And thrice he dropp'd it from his quivering hand; +Then lights the structure with averted eyes: +The rolling smoke involves the sacrifice. +The opening clouds disclose each work by turns, +Now flames the Cid, and now Perolla burns; 250 +Great Caesar roars, and hisses in the fires; +King John in silence modestly expires: +No merit now the dear Nonjuror claims, +Moliere's[278] old stubble in a moment flames. +Tears gush'd again, as from pale Priam's eyes +When the last blaze sent Ilion to the skies. + +Roused by the light, old Dulness heaved the head, +Then snatch'd a sheet of Thule[279] from her bed, +Sudden she flies, and whelms it o'er the pyre; +Down sink the flames, and with a hiss expire. 260 + +Her ample presence fills up all the place; +A veil of fogs dilates her awful face: +Great in her charms! as when on shrieves and mayors +She looks, and breathes herself into their airs. +She bids him wait her to her sacred dome: +Well pleased he enter'd, and confessed his home. +So, spirits ending their terrestrial race, +Ascend, and recognise their native place. +This the great mother dearer held than all +The clubs of quidnuncs, or her own Guildhall: 270 +Here stood her opium, here she nursed her owls, +And here she plann'd the imperial seat of fools. + +Here to her chosen all her works she shows; +Prose swell'd to verse, verse loitering into prose: +How random thoughts now meaning chance to find, +Now leave all memory of sense behind: +How prologues into prefaces decay, +And these to notes are fritter'd quite away: +How index-learning turns no student pale, +Yet holds the eel of science by the tail: 280 +How, with less reading than makes felons 'scape, +Less human genius than God gives an ape, +Small thanks to France, and none to Rome or Greece, +A past, vamp'd, future, old, revived, new piece, +'Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Shakspeare, and Corneille, +Can make a Cibber, Tibbald,[280] or Ozell.[281] + +The goddess then o'er his anointed head, +With mystic words, the sacred opium shed. +And, lo! her bird (a monster of a fowl, +Something betwixt a Heidegger[282] and owl,) 290 +Perch'd on his crown. 'All hail! and hail again, +My son! the promised land expects thy reign. +Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise; +He sleeps among the dull of ancient days; +Safe, where no critics damn, no duns molest, +Where wretched Withers, Ward, and Gildon[283] rest, +And high-born Howard,[284] more majestic sire, +With fool of quality completes the quire, +Thou, Cibber! thou, his laurel shalt support, +Folly, my son, has still a friend at Court. 300 +Lift up your gates, ye princes, see him come! +Sound, sound, ye viols, be the cat-call dumb! +Bring, bring the madding bay, the drunken vine; +The creeping, dirty, courtly ivy join. +And thou! his aide-de-camp, lead on my sons, +Light-arm'd with points, antitheses, and puns. +Let Bawdry, Billingsgate, my daughters dear, +Support his front, and Oaths bring up the rear: +And under his, and under Archer's wing, +Gaming[285] and Grub Street, skulk behind the king. 310 +Oh! when shall rise a monarch all our own, +And I, a nursing mother, rock the throne; +'Twixt prince and people close the curtain draw, +Shade him from light, and cover him from law; +Fatten the courtier, starve the learned band, +And suckle armies, and dry-nurse the land: +Till senates nod to lullabies divine, +And all be sleep, as at an ode of thine.' + +She ceased. Then swells the chapel-royal[286] throat: +God save King Cibber! mounts in every note. 320 +Familiar White's, God save King Colley! cries; +God save King Colley! Drury lane replies: +To Needham's quick the voice triumphal rode, +But pious Needham[287] dropp'd the name of God; +Back to the Devil[288] the last echoes roll, +And Coll! each butcher roars at Hockley-hole. + +So when Jove's block descended from on high +(As sings thy great forefather Ogilby[289]), +Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog, +And the hoarse nation croak'd, God save King Log! + + +VARIATIONS. + +VER. 1. The mighty mother, &c. In the first edition it was thus-- + +Books and the man I sing, the first who brings +The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings. +Say, great patricians! since yourselves inspire +These wondrous works (so Jove and Fate require) +Say, for what cause, in vain decried and cursed, +Still--- + +After VER. 22, in the MS.-- + +Or in the graver gown instruct mankind, +Or silent let thy morals tell thy mind. + +But this was to be understood, as the poet says, _ironice_, like the 23d +verse. + +VER. 29. Close to those walls, &c. In the former edition thus-- + +Where wave the tatter'd ensigns of Rag-fair,[245] +A yawning ruin hangs and nods in air;[246] +Keen hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, +Emblem of music caused by emptiness; +Here in one bed two shivering sisters lie, +The cave of Poverty and Poetry. + +VER. 41 in the former lines-- + +Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lay, +Hence the soft sing-song on Cecilia's day. + +VER. 42 alludes to the annual songs composed to music on St Cecilia's +Feast. + +VER. 85 in the former editions-- + +'Twas on the day--when Thorald,[290] rich and grave. + +VER. 108. But chief in Bayes's, &e. In the former edition thus-- + +But chief, in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast; +Sees gods with demons in strange league engage, +And earth, and heaven, and hell her battles wage. +She eyed the bard, where supperless he sate, +And pined, unconscious of his rising fate; +Studious he sate, with all his books around, +Sinking from thought to thought, &c-- + +VER. 121. Round him much embryo, &c. In the former editions thus-- + +He roll'd his eyes, that witness'd huge dismay, +Where yet unpawn'd much learned lumber lay; +Volumes whose size the space exactly fill'd, +Or which fond authors were so good to gild, +Or where, by sculpture made for ever known, +The page admires new beauties not its own. +Here swells the shelf, &c.-- + +VER. 146. In the first edition it was-- + +Well-purged, and worthy W--y, W--s, and Bl---. + +VER. 162. A twisted, &c. In the former edition-- + +And last, a little Ajax[291] tips the spire. + +VER. 177. Or, if to wit, &c. In the former edition-- + +Ah! still o'er Britain stretch that peaceful wand, +Which lulls th' Helvetian and Batavian land; +Where rebel to thy throne if science rise, +She does but show her coward face, and dies: +There thy good scholiasts with unwearied pains +Make Horace flat, and humble Maro's strains: +Here studious I unlucky moderns save, +Nor sleeps one error in its father's grave, +Old puns restore, lost blunders nicely seek, +And crucify poor Shakspeare once a week. +For thee supplying, in the worst of days. +Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays; +Not that my quill to critics was confined, +My verse gave ampler lessons to mankind; +So gravest precepts may successless prove. +But sad examples never fail to move. +As, forced from wind-guns, &c. + +VER. 195. Yet sure had Heaven, &c. In the former edition-- + +Had Heaven decreed such works a longer date, +Heaven had decreed to spare the Grub Street state. +But see great Settle to the dust descend, +And all thy cause and empire at an end! +Could Troy be saved, &c.-- + +VER. 213. Hold--to the minister. In the former edition-- + +Yes, to my country I my pen consign +Yes, from this moment, mighty Mist! am thine. + +VER. 225. O born in sin, &c. In the former edition-- + +Adieu, my children! better thus expire +Unstall'd, unsold; thus glorious mount in fire, +Fair without spot; than greased by grocer's hands, +Or shipp'd with Ward to ape-and-monkey lands, +Or wafting ginger, round the streets to run, +And visit ale-house, where ye first begun, +With that he lifted thrice the sparkling brand, +And thrice he dropp'd it, &c.-- + +VER. 250. Now flames the Cid, &c. In the former edition-- + +Now flames old Memnon, now Rodrigo burns, +In one quick flash see Proserpine expire, +And last, his own cold Aeschylus took fire. +Then gushed the tears, as from the Trojan's eyes, +When the last blaze, &c. + +After VER. 268, in the former edition, followed these two lines-- + +Raptured, he gazes round the dear retreat, +And in sweet numbers celebrates the seat. + +VER. 293. Know, Eusden, &c. In the former edition-- + +Know, Settle, cloy'd with custard and with praise, +Is gather'd to the dull of ancient days, +Safe where no critics damn, no duns molest, +Where Gildon, Banks, and high-born Howard rest. +I see a king! who leads my chosen sons +To lands that flow with clenches and with puns: +Till each famed theatre my empire own; +Till Albion, as Hibernia, bless my throne! +I see! I see!--Then rapt she spoke no more. +God save King Tibbald! Grub Street alleys roar. +So when Jove's block, &c. + + +BOOK THE SECOND. + +ARGUMENT. + +The king being proclaimed, the solemnity is graced with public games and +sports of various kinds; not instituted by the hero, as by Aeneas in +Virgil, but for greater honour by the goddess in person (in like manner +as the games Pythia, Isthmia, &c., were anciently said to be ordained by +the gods, and as Thetis herself appearing, according to Homer, Odyss. +xxiv., proposed the prizes in honour of her son Achilles). Hither flock +the poets and critics, attended, as is but just, with their patrons and +booksellers. The goddess is first pleased, for her disport, to propose +games to the booksellers, and setteth up the phantom of a poet, which +they contend to overtake. The races described, with their divers +accidents. Next, the game for a poetess. Then follow the exercises for +the poets, of tickling, vociferating, diving: The first holds forth the +arts and practices of dedicators; the second of disputants and fustian +poets; the third of profound, dark, and dirty party-writers. Lastly, for +the critics, the goddess proposes (with great propriety) an exercise, +not of their parts, but their patience, in hearing the works of two +voluminous authors, one in verse, and the other in prose, deliberately +read, without sleeping: the various effects of which, with the several +degrees and manners of their operation, are here set forth; till the +whole number, not of critics only, but of spectators, actors, and all +present, fall fast asleep; which naturally and necessarily ends the +games. + +High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shone +Henley's gilt tub,[292] or Flecknoe's Irish throne,[293] +Or that where on her Curlls the public pours,[294] +All-bounteous, fragrant grains and golden showers, +Great Cibber sate: the proud Parnassian sneer, +The conscious simper, and the jealous leer, +Mix on his look: all eyes direct their rays +On him, and crowds turn coxcombs as they gaze. +His peers shine round him with reflected grace, +New edge their dulness, and new bronze their face. 10 +So from the sun's broad beam, in shallow urns +Heaven's twinkling sparks draw light, and point their horns. + +Not with more glee, by hands Pontific crown'd, +With scarlet hats wide-waving circled round, +Rome in her Capitol saw Querno sit,[295] +Throned on seven hills, the Antichrist of wit. + +And now the queen, to glad her sons, proclaims +By herald hawkers, high heroic games. +They summon all her race: an endless band +Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land. 20 +A motley mixture! in long wigs, in bags, +In silks, in crapes, in garters, and in rags, +From drawing-rooms, from colleges, from garrets, +On horse, on foot, in hacks, and gilded chariots: +All who true dunces in her cause appear'd, +And all who knew those dunces to reward. + +Amid that area wide they took their stand, +Where the tall maypole once o'er-looked the Strand, +But now (so Anne and piety ordain) +A church collects the saints of Drury Lane. 30 + +With authors, stationers obey'd the call, +(The field of glory is a field for all). +Glory and gain the industrious tribe provoke; +And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke. +A poet's form she placed before their eyes, +And bade the nimblest racer seize the prize; +No meagre, muse-rid mope, adust and thin, +In a dun night-gown of his own loose skin; +But such a bulk as no twelve bards could raise, +Twelve starveling bards of these degenerate days. 40 +All as a partridge plump, full-fed, and fair, +She form'd this image of well-bodied air; +With pert flat eyes she window'd well its head; +A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead; +And empty words she gave, and sounding strain, +But senseless, lifeless! idol void and vain! +Never was dash'd out, at one lucky hit,[297] +A fool, so just a copy of a wit; +So like, that critics said, and courtiers swore, +A wit it was, and call'd the phantom More.[298] 50 + +All gaze with ardour: some a poet's name, +Others a sword-knot and laced suit inflame. +But lofty Lintot[299] in the circle rose: +'This prize is mine; who tempt it are my foes; +With me began this genius, and shall end.' +He spoke: and who with Lintot shall contend? +Fear held them mute. Alone, untaught to fear, +Stood dauntless Curll:[300] 'Behold that rival here! +The race by vigour, not by vaunts is won; +So take the hindmost Hell.' He said, and run. 60 +Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind, +He left huge Lintot, and out-stripp'd the wind. +As when a dab-chick waddles through the copse +On feet and wings, and flies, and wades, and hops: +So labouring on, with shoulders, hands, and head, +Wide as a wind-mill all his figure spread, +With arms expanded Bernard rows his state, +And left-legg'd Jacob[301] seems to emulate. +Full in the middle way there stood a lake, +Which Curll's Corinna[302] chanced that morn to make: 70 +(Such was her wont, at early dawn to drop +Her evening cates before his neighbour's shop,) +Here fortuned Curll to slide; loud shout the band, +And Bernard! Bernard! rings through all the Strand. +Obscene with filth the miscreant lies bewray'd, +Fallen in the plash his wickedness had laid: +Then first (if poets aught of truth declare) +The caitiff vaticide conceived a prayer: +'Hear, Jove! whose name my bards and I adore, +As much at least as any god's, or more; 80 +And him and his if more devotion warms, +Down with the Bible, up with the Pope's arms.'[303] + +A place there is, betwixt earth, air, and seas,[304] +Where, from Ambrosia, Jove retires for ease. +There in his seat two spacious vents appear, +On this he sits, to that he leans his ear, +And hears the various vows of fond mankind; +Some beg an eastern, some a western wind: +All vain petitions, mounting to the sky, +With reams abundant this abode supply; 90 +Amused he reads, and then returns the bills +Sign'd with that ichor which from gods distils. + +In office here fair Cloacina stands, +And ministers to Jove with purest hands. +Forth from the heap she pick'd her votary's prayer, +And placed it next him, a distinction rare! +Oft had the goddess heard her servant's call, +From her black grottos near the Temple-wall, +Listening delighted to the jest unclean +Of link-boys vile, and watermen obscene; 100 +Where as he fish'd her nether realms for wit, +She oft had favour'd him, and favours yet. +Renew'd by ordure's sympathetic force, +As oil'd with magic juices for the course, +Vigorous he rises; from the effluvia strong +Imbibes new life, and scours and stinks along; +Repasses Lintot, vindicates the race, +Nor heeds the brown dishonours of his face. + +And now the victor stretch'd his eager hand +Where the tall Nothing stood, or seem'd to stand; 110 +A shapeless shade, it melted from his sight, +Like forms in clouds, or visions of the night. +To seize his papers, Curll, was next thy care; +His papers light, fly diverse, toss'd in air; +Songs, sonnets, epigrams the winds uplift, +And whisk them back to Evans, Young, and Swift.[305] +The embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey, +That suit an unpaid tailor snatch'd away. +No rag, no scrap, of all the beau, or wit, +That once so flutter'd, and that once so writ. 120 + +Heaven rings with laughter: of the laughter vain, +Dulness, good queen, repeats the jest again. +Three wicked imps, of her own Grub Street choir, +She deck'd like Congreve, Addison, and Prior; +Mears, Warner, Wilkins run: delusive thought! +Breval, Bond, Bezaleel,[306] the varlets caught. +Curll stretches after Gay, but Gay is gone, +He grasps an empty Joseph[307] for a John: +So Proteus, hunted in a nobler shape, +Became, when seized, a puppy, or an ape. 130 + +To him the goddess: 'Son! thy grief lay down, +And turn this whole illusion on the town:[308] +As the sage dame, experienced in her trade, +By names of toasts retails each batter'd jade; +(Whence hapless Monsieur much complains at Paris +Of wrongs from duchesses and Lady Maries;) +Be thine, my stationer! this magic gift; +Cook shall be Prior,[309] and Concanen, Swift: +So shall each hostile name become our own, +And we too boast our Garth and Addison.' 140 + +With that she gave him (piteous of his case, +Yet smiling at his rueful length of face[310]) +A shaggy tapestry, worthy to be spread +On Codrus' old, or Dunton's modern bed;[311] +Instructive work! whose wry-mouth'd portraiture +Display'd the fates her confessors endure. +Earless on high, stood unabash'd Defoe, +And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge below.[312] +There Ridpath, Roper,[313] cudgell'd might ye view, +The very worsted still look'd black and blue. 150 +Himself among the storied chiefs he spies,[314] +As, from the blanket, high in air he flies, +And oh! (he cried) what street, what lane but knows +Our purgings, pumpings, blanketings, and blows? +In every loom our labours shall be seen, +And the fresh vomit run for ever green! + +See in the circle next, Eliza[315] placed, +Two babes of love close clinging to her waist; +Fair as before her works she stands confess'd, 159 +In flowers and pearls by bounteous Kirkall[316] dress'd. +The goddess then: 'Who best can send on high +The salient spout, far-streaming to the sky; +His be yon Juno of majestic size, +With cow-like udders, and with ox-like eyes. +This China Jordan let the chief o'ercome +Replenish, not ingloriously, at home.' + +Osborne[317] and Curll accept the glorious strife, +(Though this his son dissuades, and that his wife;) +One on his manly confidence relies, +One on his vigour and superior size. 170 +First Osborne lean'd against his letter'd post; +It rose, and labour'd to a curve at most. +So Jove's bright bow displays its watery round +(Sure sign, that no spectator shall be drown'd), +A second effort brought but new disgrace, +The wild meander wash'd the artist's face: +Thus the small jet, which hasty hands unlock, +Spurts in the gardener's eyes who turns the cock. +Not so from shameless Curll; impetuous spread +The stream, and smoking flourish'd o'er his head. 180 +So (famed like thee for turbulence and horns) +Eridanus his humble fountain scorns; +Through half the heavens he pours the exalted urn; +His rapid waters in their passage burn. + +Swift as it mounts, all follow with their eyes: +Still happy impudence obtains the prize. +Thou triumph'st, victor of the high-wrought day, +And the pleased dame, soft-smiling, lead'st away. +Osborne, through perfect modesty o'ercome, +Crown'd with the Jordan, walks contented home. 190 + +But now for authors nobler palms remain; +Room for my lord! three jockeys in his train; +Six huntsmen with a shout precede his chair: +He grins, and looks broad nonsense with a stare. +His honour's meaning Dulness thus express'd, +'He wins this patron, who can tickle best.' + +He chinks his purse, and takes his seat of state: +With ready quills the dedicators wait; +Now at his head the dext'rous task commence, +And, instant, fancy feels the imputed sense; 200 +Now gentle touches wanton o'er his face, +He struts Adonis, and affects grimace: +Rolli[318] the feather to his ear conveys, +Then his nice taste directs our operas: +Bentley[319] his mouth with classic flattery opes, +And the puff'd orator bursts out in tropes. +But Welsted[320] most the poet's healing balm +Strives to extract from his soft, giving palm; +Unlucky Welsted! thy unfeeling master, +The more thou ticklest, gripes his fist the faster. 210 + +While thus each hand promotes the pleasing pain, +And quick sensations skip from vein to vein; +A youth unknown to Phoebus, in despair, +Puts his last refuge all in Heaven and prayer. +What force have pious vows! The Queen of Love +Her sister sends, her votaress, from above. +As taught by Venus, Paris learn'd the art +To touch Achilles' only tender part; +Secure, through her, the noble prize to carry, +He marches off, his Grace's secretary. 220 + +'Now turn to different sports (the goddess cries), +And learn, my sons, the wondrous power of noise. +To move, to raise, to ravish every heart, +With Shakspeare's nature, or with Jonson's art, +Let others aim: 'tis yours to shake the soul +With thunder rumbling from the mustard bowl,[321] +With horns and trumpets now to madness swell, +Now sink in sorrows with a tolling bell; +Such happy arts attention can command, +When fancy flags, and sense is at a stand. 230 +Improve we these. Three cat-calls be the bribe +Of him whose chattering shames the monkey tribe: +And his this drum whose hoarse heroic bass +Drowns the loud clarion of the braying ass.' + +Now thousand tongues are heard in one loud din: +The monkey-mimics rush discordant in; +'Twas chattering, grinning, mouthing, jabbering all, +And noise and Norton, brangling and Breval,[322] +Dennis and dissonance, and captious art, +And snip-snap short, and interruption smart, 240 +And demonstration thin, and theses thick, +And major, minor, and conclusion quick. +'Hold' (cried the queen) 'a cat-call each shall win; +Equal your merits! equal is your din! +But that this well-disputed game may end, +Sound forth, nay brayers, and the welkin rend.' + +As when the long-ear'd milky mothers wait +At some sick miser's triple-bolted gate, +For their defrauded, absent foals they make +A moan so loud, that all the guild awake; 250 +Sore sighs Sir Gilbert, starting at the bray, +From dreams of millions, and three groats to pay. +So swells each windpipe; ass intones to ass, +Harmonic twang! of leather, horn, and brass; +Such as from labouring lungs the enthusiast blows, +High sound, attemper'd to the vocal nose, +Or such as bellow from the deep divine; +There, Webster![323] peal'd thy voice, and, Whitfield![324] thine. +But far o'er all, sonorous Blackmore's strain; +Walls, steeples, skies, bray back to him again. 260 +In Tottenham fields, the brethren, with amaze, +Prick all their ears up, and forget to graze; +'Long Chancery Lane retentive rolls the sound, +And courts to courts return it round and round; +Thames wafts it thence to Rufus' roaring hall, +And Hungerford re-echoes bawl for bawl. +All hail him victor in both gifts of song, +Who sings so loudly, and who sings so long. + +This labour past, by Bridewell all descend, +(As morning prayer, and flagellation end)[325] 270 +To where Fleet-ditch with disemboguing streams +Rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to Thames, +The king of dikes! than whom no sluice of mud +With deeper sable blots the silver flood. +'Here strip, my children! here at once leap in, +Here prove who best can dash through thick and thin,[326] +And who the most in love of dirt excel, +Or dark dexterity of groping well. +Who flings most filth, and wide pollutes around +The stream, be his the weekly journals[327] bound; 280 +A pig of lead to him who dives the best; +A peck of coals a-piece[328] shall glad the rest.' + +In naked majesty Oldmixon stands,[329] +And, Milo-like, surveys his arms and hands; +Then sighing, thus, 'And am I now threescore? +Ah why, ye gods! should two and two make four?' +He said, and climb'd a stranded lighter's height, +Shot to the black abyss, and plunged downright. +The senior's judgment all the crowd admire, +Who but to sink the deeper, rose the higher. 290 + +Next Smedley dived;[330] slow circles dimpled o'er +The quaking mud, that closed, and oped no more. +All look, all sigh, and call on Smedley lost; +'Smedley!' in vain, resounds through all the coast. + +Then Hill[331] essay'd; scarce vanish'd out of sight, +He buoys up instant, and returns to light: +He bears no token of the sable streams, +And mounts far off among the swans of Thames. + +True to the bottom, see Concanen creep, +A cold, long-winded, native of the deep: 300 +If perseverance gain the diver's prize, +Not everlasting Blackmore this denies: +No noise, no stir, no motion can'st thou make, +The unconscious stream sleeps o'er thee like a lake. + +Next plunged a feeble, but a desperate pack, +With each a sickly brother at his back:[332] +Sons of a day! just buoyant on the flood, +Then number'd with the puppies in the mud. +Ask ye their names? I could as soon disclose +The names of these blind puppies as of those. 310 +Fast by, like Niobe (her children gone) +Sits Mother Osborne,[333] stupified to stone! +And monumental brass this record bears, +'These are,--ah no! these were, the gazetteers!'[334] + +Not so bold Arnall;[335] with a weight of skull, +Furious he dives, precipitately dull. +Whirlpools and storms his circling arm invest, +With all the might of gravitation bless'd. +No crab more active in the dirty dance, +Downward to climb, and backward to advance. 320 +He brings up half the bottom on his head, +And loudly claims the journals and the lead. + +The plunging Prelate,[336] and his ponderous Grace, +With holy envy gave one layman place. +When, lo! a burst of thunder shook the flood, +Slow rose a form, in majesty of mud: +Shaking the horrors of his sable brows, +And each ferocious feature grim with ooze. +Greater he looks, and more than mortal stares: +Then thus the wonders of the deep declares. 330 + +First he relates, how sinking to the chin, +Smit with his mien, the mud-nymphs suck'd him in: +How young Lutetia, softer than the down, +Nigrina black, and Merdamante brown, +Vied for his love in jetty bowers below, +As Hylas fair was ravish'd long ago. +Then sung, how, shown him by the nut-brown maids; +A branch of Styx here rises from the shades, +That, tinctured as it runs with Lethe's streams, +And wafting vapours from the land of dreams, 340 +(As under seas Alpheus' secret sluice +Bears Pisa's offerings to his Arethuse,) +Pours into Thames: and hence the mingled wave +Intoxicates the pert, and lulls the grave: +Here brisker vapours o'er the Temple creep, +There, all from Paul's to Aldgate drink and sleep. + +Thence to the banks where reverend bards repose, +They led him soft; each reverend bard arose; +And Milbourn[337] chief, deputed by the rest, +Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest. 350 +'Receive (he said) these robes which once were mine, +Dulness is sacred in a sound divine.' + +He ceased, and spread the robe; the crowd confess +The reverend Flamen in his lengthen'd dress. +Around him wide a sable army stand, +A low-born, cell-bred, selfish, servile band, +Prompt or to guard or stab, to saint or damn, +Heaven's Swiss, who fight for any god, or man. +Through Lud's famed gates,[338] along the well-known Fleet +Rolls the black troop, and overshades the street, 360 +Till showers of sermons, characters, essays, +In circling fleeces whiten all the ways: +So clouds replenish'd from some bog below, +Mount in dark volumes, and descend in snow. +Here stopp'd the goddess; and in pomp proclaims +A gentler exercise to close the games. + +'Ye critics! in whose heads, as equal scales, +I weigh what author's heaviness prevails, +Which most conduce to soothe the soul in slumbers, +My Henley's periods, or my Blackmore's numbers, 370 +Attend the trial we propose to make: +If there be man, who o'er such works can wake, +Sleep's all-subduing charms who dares defy, +And boasts Ulysses' ear with Argus' eye; +To him we grant our amplest powers to sit +Judge of all present, past, and future wit; +To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong, +Full and eternal privilege of tongue.' + +Three college Sophs, and three pert Templars came, +The same their talents, and their tastes the same; 380 +Each prompt to query, answer, and debate, +And smit with love of poesy and prate. +The ponderous books two gentle readers bring; +The heroes sit, the vulgar form a ring. +The clamorous crowd is hush'd with mugs of mum, +Till all, tuned equal, send a general hum. +Then mount the clerks, and in one lazy tone +Through the long, heavy, painful page drawl on; +Soft creeping, words on words, the sense compose, +At every line they stretch, they yawn, they doze. 390 +As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low +Their heads, and lift them as they cease to blow, +Thus oft they rear, and oft the head decline, +As breathe, or pause, by fits, the airs divine; +And now to this side, now to that they nod, +As verse or prose infuse the drowsy god. +Thrice Budgell aim'd to speak,[339] but thrice suppress'd +By potent Arthur, knock'd his chin and breast. +Toland and Tindal,[340] prompt at priests to jeer, +Yet silent bow'd to Christ's no kingdom here.[341] 400 +Who sate the nearest, by the words o'ercome, +Slept first; the distant nodded to the hum. +Then down are roll'd the books; stretch'd o'er 'em lies +Each gentle clerk, and, muttering, seals his eyes, +As what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes, +One circle first, and then a second makes; +What Dulness dropp'd among her sons impress'd +Like motion from one circle to the rest; +So from the midmost the nutation spreads +Round and more round, o'er all the sea of heads. 410 +At last Centlivre[342] felt her voice to fail, +Motteux[343] himself unfinished left his tale, +Boyer the state, and Law the stage gave o'er,[344] +Morgan[345] and Mandeville[346] could prate no more; +Norton,[347] from Daniel and Ostroea sprung, +Bless'd with his father's front and mother's tongue, +Hung silent down his never-blushing head; +And all was hush'd, as Polly's self lay dead. + +Thus the soft gifts of sleep conclude the day, +And stretch'd on bulks, as usual, poets lay. 420 +Why should I sing what bards the nightly Muse +Did slumbering visit, and convey to stews; +Who prouder march'd, with magistrates in state, +To some famed round-house, ever open gate! +How Henley lay inspired beside a sink, +And to mere mortals seem'd a priest in drink; +While others, timely, to the neighbouring Fleet +(Haunt of the Muses!) made their safe retreat? + + +VARIATIONS. + +VER. 207 in the first edition-- + +But Oldmixon the poet's healing balm, &c. + +After VER. 298 in the first edition, followed these-- + +Far worse unhappy D---r succeeds, +He searched for coral, but he gather'd weeds. + +VER. 399. In the first edition it was-- + +Collins and Tindal, prompt at priests to jeer. + +VER. 413. In the first edition it was-- + +T---s and T---- the Church and State gave o'er, +Nor ---- talk'd nor S---- whisper'd more. + + +BOOK THE THIRD. + +ARGUMENT. + +After the other persons are disposed in their proper places of rest, the +goddess transports the king to her temple, and there lays him to slumber +with his head on her lap; a position of marvellous virtue, which causes +all the visions of wild enthusiasts, projectors, politicians, +inamoratos, castle-builders, chemists, and poets. He is immediately +carried on the wings of Fancy, and led by a mad poetical Sibyl, to the +Elysian shade; where, on the banks of Lethe, the souls of the dull are +dipped by Bavius, before their entrance into this world. There he is met +by the ghost of Settle, and by him made acquainted with the wonders of +the place, and with those which he himself is destined to perform. He +takes him to a mount of vision, from whence he shows him the past +triumphs of the empire of Dulness, then the present, and lastly the +future: how small a part of the world was ever conquered by science, how +soon those conquests were stopped, and those very nations again reduced +to her dominion: then distinguishing the island of Great Britain, shows +by what aids, by what persons, and by what degrees it shall be brought +to her empire. Some of the persons he causes to pass in review before +his eyes, describing each by his proper figure, character, and +qualifications. On a sudden the scene shifts, and a vast number of +miracles and prodigies appear, utterly surprising and unknown to the +king himself, till they are explained to be the wonders of his own reign +now commencing. On this subject Settle breaks into a congratulation, yet +not unmixed with concern, that his own times were but the types of +these. He prophesies how first the nation shall be overrun with farces, +operas, and shows; how the throne of Dulness shall be advanced over the +theatres, and set up even at Court; then how her sons shall preside in +the seats of arts and sciences; giving a glimpse, or Pisgah-sight, of +the future fulness of her glory, the accomplishment whereof is the +subject of the fourth and last book. + +But in her temple's last recess enclosed, +On Dulness' lap the anointed head reposed. +Him close the curtains round with vapours blue, +And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew. +Then raptures high the seat of sense o'erflow, +Which only heads refined from reason know. +Hence, from the straw where Bedlam's prophet nods, +He hears loud oracles, and talks with gods: +Hence the fool's Paradise, the statesman's scheme, +The air-built castle, and the golden dream, 10 +The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame, +And poet's vision of eternal fame. + +And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd, +The king descending, views the Elysian shade, +A slip-shod sibyl led his steps along, +In lofty madness meditating song; +Her tresses staring from poetic dreams, +And never wash'd, but in Castalia's streams. +Taylor,[348] their better Charon, lends an oar, +(Once swan of Thames, though now he sings no more.) 20 +Benlowes,[349] propitious still to blockheads, bows; +And Shadwell nods the poppy[350] on his brows. +Here, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls, +Old Bavius sits,[351] to dip poetic souls, +And blunt the sense, and fit it for a skull +Of solid proof, impenetrably dull: +Instant, when dipp'd, away they wing their flight, +Where Brown and Mears[352] unbar the gates of light, +Demand new bodies, and in calf's array +Rush to the world, impatient for the day. 30 +Millions and millions on these banks he views, +Thick as the stars of night, or morning dews, +As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly, +As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory.[353] + +Wond'ring he gazed: when, lo! a sage appears, +By his broad shoulders known, and length of ears, +Known by the band and suit which Settle[354] wore +(His only suit) for twice three years before: +All as the vest appear'd the wearer's frame, +Old in new state--another, yet the same. 40 +Bland and familiar as in life, begun +Thus the great father to the greater son: + +'Oh born to see what none can see awake! +Behold the wonders of the oblivious lake. +Thou, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred shore; +The hand of Bavius drench'd thee o'er and o'er. +But blind to former as to future fate, +What mortal knows his pre-existent state? +Who knows how long thy transmigrating soul +Might from Boeotian to Boeotian roll? 50 +How many Dutchmen she vouchsafed to thrid? +How many stages through old monks she rid? +And all who since, in mild benighted days, +Mix'd the owl's ivy with the poet's bays. +As man's meanders to the vital spring +Roll all their tides, then back their circles bring; +Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain, +Suck the thread in, then yield it out again: +All nonsense thus, of old or modern date, +Shall in thee centre, from thee circulate. 60 +For this our queen unfolds to vision true +Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view: +Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind, +Shall, first recall'd, rush forward to thy mind: +Then stretch thy sight o'er all thy rising reign, +And let the past and future fire thy brain. + +'Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands +Her boundless empire over seas and lands. +See, round the poles where keener spangles shine, +Where spices smoke beneath the burning line, 70 +(Earth's wide extremes), her sable flag display'd, +And all the nations cover'd in her shade! + +'Far eastward cast thine eye, from whence the sun +And orient science their bright course begun; +One god-like monarch[355] all that pride confounds, +He whose long wall the wandering Tartar bounds; +Heavens! what a pile! whole ages perish there, +And one bright blaze turns learning into air. + +'Thence to the south extend thy gladden'd eyes; +There rival flames with equal glory rise, 80 +From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll, +And lick up all their physic of the soul.[356] + +'How little, mark! that portion of the ball, +Where, faint at best, the beams of science fall: +Soon as they dawn, from Hyperborean skies +Embodied dark, what clouds of Vandals rise! +Lo! where Maeotis sleeps, and hardly flows +The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows, +The North by myriads pours her mighty sons, +Great nurse of Goths, of Alans, and of Huns! 90 +See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame +Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name! +See the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall; +See the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul! +See, where the morning gilds the palmy shore, +(The soil that arts and infant letters bore,) +His conquering tribes the Arabian prophet draws, +And saving ignorance enthrones by laws. +See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep, +And all the western world believe and sleep. 100 + +'Lo! Rome herself, proud mistress now no more +Of arts, but thundering against heathen lore; +Her gray-hair'd synods damning books unread, +And Bacon trembling for his brazen head. +Padua, with sighs, beholds her Livy burn, +And ev'n the Antipodes Virgilius mourn. +See, the cirque falls, the unpillar'd temple nods, +Streets paved with heroes, Tiber choked with gods: +Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn, +And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn; 110 +See graceless Venus to a virgin turn'd, +Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'd. + +'Behold yon isle, by palmers, pilgrims trod, +Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, unshod, +Peel'd, patch'd, and piebald, linsey-woolsey brothers, +Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless others. +That once was Britain--happy! had she seen +No fiercer sons, had Easter never been.[357] +In peace, great goddess, ever be adored; +How keen the war, if Dulness draw the sword! 120 +Thus visit not thy own! on this bless'd age +Oh spread thy influence, but restrain thy rage. + +'And see, my son! the hour is on its way +That lifts our goddess to imperial sway; +This favourite isle, long sever'd from her reign, +Dove-like she gathers to her wings again. +Now look through Fate! behold the scene she draws! +What aids, what armies to assert her cause! +See all her progeny, illustrious sight! +Behold, and count them, as they rise to light. 130 +As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie +In homage to the mother of the sky, +Surveys around her, in the bless'd abode, +An hundred sons, and every son a god; +Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd, +Shall take through Grub Street her triumphant round; +And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once, +Behold an hundred sons, and each a dunce. + +'Mark first that youth who takes the foremost place, +And thrusts his person full into your face. 140 +With all thy father's virtues bless'd, be born! +And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn. + +'A second see, by meeker manners known, +And modest as the maid that sips alone; +From the strong fate of drams if thou get free, +Another D'Urfey, Ward! shall sing in thee. +Thee shall each ale-house, thee each gill-house mourn, +And answering gin-shops sourer sighs return. + +'Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with awe,[358] +Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law. 150 +Lo Popple's brow, tremendous to the town, +Horneck's fierce eye, and Roome's[359] funereal frown. +Lo, sneering Goode,[360] half-malice and half-whim, +A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim. +Each cygnet sweet, of Bath and Tunbridge race, +Whose tuneful whistling makes the waters pass: +Each songster, riddler, every nameless name, +All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame. +Some strain in rhyme; the Muses, on their racks, +Scream like the winding of ten thousand jacks; 160 +Some, free from rhyme or reason, rule or check, +Break Priscian's head and Pegasus's neck; +Down, down the 'larum, with impetuous whirl, +The Pindars, and the Miltons of a Curll. + +'Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph[361] to Cynthia howls, +And makes night hideous--answer him, ye owls! + +'Sense, speech, and measure, living tongues and dead, +Let all give way--and Morris may be read. +Flow, Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer, beer; +Though stale, not ripe; though thin, yet never clear; 170 +So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull; +Heady, not strong; o'erflowing, though not full. + +'Ah Dennis! Gildon ah! what ill-starr'd rage +Divides a friendship long confirm'd by age? +Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, +But fool with fool is barbarous civil war. +Embrace, embrace, my sons! be foes no more! +Nor glad vile poets with true critics' gore. + +'Behold yon pair,[362] in strict embraces join'd; +How like in manners, and how like in mind! 180 +Equal in wit, and equally polite, +Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler write? +Like are their merits, like rewards they share, +That shines a consul, this commissioner. + +'But who is he, in closet close y-pent, +Of sober face, with learned dust besprent? +Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight, +On parchment scraps y-fed, and Wormius hight.[363] +To future ages may thy dulness last, +As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past! 190 + +'There, dim in clouds, the poring scholiasts mark, +Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark, +A lumberhouse of books in every head, +For ever reading, never to be read! + +'But where each science lifts its modern type, +History her pot, divinity her pipe, +While proud philosophy repines to show, +Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below; +Embrown'd with native bronze, lo! Henley[364] stands, +Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands. 200 +How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue! +How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung! +Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain, +While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson[365] preach in vain. +O great restorer of the good old stage, +Preacher at once, and zany of thy age! +O worthy thou of Egypt's wise abodes, +A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods! +But fate with butchers placed thy priestly stall, +Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and maul; 210 +And bade thee live to crown Britannia's praise, +In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days.[366] + +'Yet O! my sons, a father's words attend +(So may the fates preserve the ears you lend): +'Tis yours a Bacon or a Locke to blame, +A Newton's genius, or a Milton's flame: +But O! with One, immortal One dispense, +The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's sense. +Content, each emanation of his fires +That beams on earth, each virtue he inspires, 220 +Each art he prompts, each charm he can create, +Whate'er he gives, are given for you to hate. +Persist, by all divine in man unawed, +But, "Learn, ye Dunces! not to scorn your God."' + +Thus he, for then a ray of reason stole +Half through the solid darkness of his soul; +But soon the cloud return'd--and thus the sire: +'See now, what Dulness and her sons admire! +See what the charms that smite the simple heart +Not touch'd by Nature, and not reach'd by art.' 230 + +His never-blushing head he turn'd aside, +(Not half so pleased when Goodman prophesied), +And looked, and saw a sable sorcerer[367] rise, +Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies: +All sudden, Gorgons hiss, and dragons glare, +And ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war. +Hell rises, heaven descends, and dance on earth:[368] +Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth, +A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, +Till one wide conflagration swallows all. 240 +Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknown + +Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own: +Another Cynthia her new journey runs, +And other planets circle other suns. +The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, +Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies; +And last, to give the whole creation grace, +Lo! one vast egg produces human race.[369] + +Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought: 249 +'What power,' he cries, 'what power these wonders wrought?' +'Son, what thou seek'st is in thee! Look, and find +Each monster meets his likeness in thy mind. +Yet would'st thou more? In yonder cloud behold, +Whose sarsenet skirts are edged with flamy gold, +A matchless youth! his nod these worlds controls, +Wings the red lightning, and the thunder rolls. +Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round +Her magic charms o'er all unclassic ground +Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher, +Illumes their light, and sets their flames on fire. 260 +Immortal Rich![370] how calm he sits at ease +'Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; +And proud his mistress' orders to perform, +Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. + +'But, lo! to dark encounter in mid air, +New wizards rise; I see my Cibber there! +Booth[371] in his cloudy tabernacle shrined, +On grinning dragons thou shalt mount the wind. +Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din, +Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln's inn; 270 +Contending theatres our empire raise, +Alike their labours, and alike their praise. + +'And are these wonders, son, to thee unknown? +Unknown to thee? These wonders are thy own. +These Fate reserved to grace thy reign divine, +Foreseen by me, but ah! withheld from mine. +In Lud's old walls though long I ruled, renown'd +Far as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound; +Though my own Aldermen conferred the bays, +To me committing their eternal praise, 280 +Their full-fed heroes, their pacific mayors, +Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars; +Though long my party[372] built on me their hopes, +For writing pamphlets, and for roasting popes; +Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag on! +Reduced at last to hiss in my own dragon. +Avert it, Heaven! that thou, my Cibber, e'er +Should'st wag a serpent-tail in Smithfield fair! +Like the vile straw that's blown about the streets, +The needy poet sticks to all he meets, 290 +Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now fast, +And carried off in some dog's tail at last; +Happier thy fortunes! like a rolling stone, +Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on, +Safe in its heaviness, shall never stray, +But lick up every blockhead in the way. +Thee shall the patriot, thee the courtier taste, +And every year be duller than the last; +Till raised from booths, to theatre, to court, +Her seat imperial Dulness shall transport. 300 +Already Opera prepares the way, +The sure forerunner of her gentle sway: +Let her thy heart, next drabs and dice, engage, +The third mad passion of thy doting age. +Teach thou the warbling Polypheme[373] to roar, +And scream thyself as none e'er scream'd before! +To aid our cause, if Heaven thou can'st not bend, +Hell thou shalt move; for Faustus[374] is our friend: +Pluto with Cato thou for this shalt join, +And link the Mourning Bride to Proserpine. 310 +Grub Street! thy fall should men and gods conspire, +Thy stage shall stand, ensure it but from fire.[375] +Another AEschylus appears![376] prepare +For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair! +In flames, like Semele's, be brought to bed, +While opening Hell spouts wild-fire at your head. + +'Now, Bavius, take the poppy from thy brow, +And place it here! here, all ye heroes, bow! +This, this is he, foretold by ancient rhymes: +Th' Augustus born to bring Saturnian times. 320 +Signs following signs lead on the mighty year! +See! the dull stars roll round and re-appear. +See, see, our own true Phoebus wears the bays! +Our Midas sits Lord Chancellor of Plays! +On poets' tombs see Benson's titles writ![377] +Lo! Ambrose Philips[378] is preferr'd for wit! +See under Ripley rise a new Whitehall, +While Jones' and Boyle's united labours fall;[379] +While Wren with sorrow to the grave descends, +Gay dies unpension'd with a hundred friends; 330 +Hibernian politics, O Swift! thy fate; +And Pope's, ten years to comment and translate. + +'Proceed, great days! till Learning fly the shore, +Till Birch shall blush with noble blood no more, +Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play, +Till Westminster's whole year be holiday, +Till Isis' elders reel, their pupils sport, +And Alma Mater lie dissolved in port!' + +Enough! enough! the raptured monarch cries; +And through the Ivory Gate the vision flies. 340 + + +VARIATIONS. + +VER. 73. In the former edition-- + +Far eastward cast thine eye, from whence the sun +And orient science at a birth begun. + +VER. 149. In the first edition it was-- + +Woolston, the scourge of scripture, mark with awe! +And mighty Jacob, blunderbuss of law! + +VER. 151. Lo Popple's brow, &c. In the former edition-- + +Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race, +Lo Horneck's fierce, and Roome's funereal face. + +VER. 157. Each songster, riddler, &c. In the former edition-- + +Lo Bond and Foxton, every nameless name. + +After VER. 158 in the first edition followed-- + +How proud, how pale, how earnest all appear! +How rhymes eternal jingle in their ear! + +VER. 197. In the first edition it was-- + +And proud philosophy with breeches tore, +And English music with a dismal score: +Fast by in darkness palpable enshrined +W---s, B---r, M---n, all the poring kind. + +After VER. 274 in the former edition followed-- + +For works like these let deathless journals tell, +'None but thyself can be thy parallel.' + +VER. 295. Safe in its heaviness, etc. In the former edition-- + +Too safe in inborn heaviness to stray, +And lick up every blockhead in the way. +Thy dragons, magistrates and peers shall taste, +And from each show rise duller than the last; +Till raised from booths, etc. + +VER. 323. See, see, our own, &c. In the former edition-- + +Beneath his reign shall Eusden wear the bays. +Cibber preside Lord Chancellor of plays, +Benson sole Judge of Architecture sit, +And Namby Pamby be preferr'd for wit! +I see the unfinish'd dormitory wall, +I see the Savoy totter to her fall; +Hibernian politics, O Swift! thy doom, +And Pope's, translating three whole years with Broome. +Proceed great days, &c. + +VER. 331. In the former edition, thus-- + +---- O Swift! thy doom, +And Pope's, translating ten whole years with Broome. + +_See Life._ + +After VER. 338, in the first edition, were the following lines-- + +Then when these signs declare the mighty year, +When the dull stars roll round and re-appear; +Let there be darkness! (the dread Power shall say) +All shall be darkness, as it ne'er were day; +To their first Chaos wit's vain works shall fall, +And universal darkness cover all. + + +BOOK THE FOURTH. + +ARGUMENT. + +The poet being, in this book, to declare the completion of the +prophecies mentioned at the end of the former, makes a new invocation; +as the greater poets are wont, when some high and worthy matter is to be +sung. He shows the goddess coming in her majesty to destroy order and +science, and to substitute the kingdom of the Dull upon earth; how she +leads captive the Sciences, and silenceth the Muses; and what they be +who succeed in their stead. All her children, by a wonderful attraction, +are drawn about her; and bear along with them divers others, who promote +her empire by connivance, weak resistance, or discouragement of Arts; +such as half-wits, tasteless admirers, vain pretenders, the flatterers +of Dunces, or the patrons of them. All these crowd round her; one of +them offering to approach her, is driven back by a rival, but she +commends and encourages both. The first who speak in form are the +geniuses of the schools, who assure her of their care to advance her +cause, by confining youth to words, and keeping them out of the way of +real knowledge. Their address, and her gracious answer; with her charge +to them and the Universities. The Universities appear by their proper +deputies, and assure her that the same method is observed in the +progress of education. The speech of Aristarchus on this subject. They +are driven off by a band of young gentlemen returned from travel with +their tutors; one of whom delivers to the goddess, in a polite oration, +an account of the whole conduct and fruits of their travels; presenting +to her at the same time a young nobleman perfectly accomplished. She +receives him graciously, and indues him with the happy quality of want +of shame. She sees loitering about her a number of indolent persons +abandoning all business and duty, and dying with laziness: to these +approaches the antiquary Annius, entreating her to make them virtuosos, +and assign them over to him; but Mummius, another antiquary, complaining +of his fraudulent proceeding, she finds a method to reconcile their +difference. Then enter a troop of people fantastically adorned, offering +her strange and exotic presents: amongst them, one stands forth and +demands justice on another, who had deprived him of one of the greatest +curiosities in nature; but he justifies himself so well, that the +goddess gives them both her approbation. She recommends to them to find +proper employment for the indolents before-mentioned, in the study of +butterflies, shells, birds' nests, moss, &c., but with particular +caution not to proceed beyond trifles, to any useful or extensive views +of nature, or of the Author of nature. Against the last of these +apprehensions, she is secured by a hearty address from the minute +philosophers and freethinkers, one of whom speaks in the name of the +rest. The youth thus instructed and principled, are delivered to her in +a body, by the hands of Silenus; and then admitted to taste the cup of +the Magus her high-priest, which causes a total oblivion of all +obligations, divine, civil, moral, or rational. To these her adepts she +sends priests, attendants, and comforters, of various kinds; confers on +them orders and degrees; and then dismissing them with a speech, +confirming to each his privileges, and telling what she expects from +each, concludes with a yawn of extraordinary virtue: the progress and +effects whereof on all orders of men, and the consummation of all, in +the restoration of Night and Chaos, conclude the poem. + +Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light +Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night! +Of darkness visible so much be lent, +As half to show, half veil the deep intent. +Ye Powers! whose mysteries restored I sing, +To whom Time bears me on his rapid wing, +Suspend a while your force inertly strong, +Then take at once the poet and the song. + +Now flamed the dog-star's unpropitious ray, +Smote every brain, and wither'd every bay; 10 +Sick was the sun, the owl forsook his bower, +The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour: +Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night, +To blot out order, and extinguish light, +Of dull and venal a new world to mould, +And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold. + +She mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd, +In broad effulgence all below reveal'd, +('Tis thus aspiring Dulness ever shines), +Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines. 20 + +Beneath her foot-stool, Science groans in chains, +And Wit dreads exile, penalties and pains. +There foam'd rebellious Logic, gagg'd and bound, +There, stripp'd, fair Rhetoric languish'd on the ground; +His blunted arms by Sophistry are borne, +And shameless Billingsgate her robes adorn. +Morality, by her false guardians drawn. +Chicane in furs, and Casuistry in lawn, +Gasps, as they straiten at each end the cord, +And dies, when Dulness gives her page the word. 30 +Mad Mathesis[380] alone was unconfined, +Too mad for mere material chains to bind, +Now to pure space[381] lifts her ecstatic stare, +Now running round the circle, finds it square.[382] +But held in tenfold bonds the Muses lie, +Watch'd both by Envy's and by Flattery's eye: +There to her heart sad Tragedy address'd +The dagger wont to pierce the tyrant's breast; +But sober History restrain'd her rage, +And promised vengeance on a barbarous age. 40 +There sunk Thalia, nerveless, cold, and dead, +Had not her sister Satire held her head: +Nor could'st thou, Chesterfield![383] a tear refuse, +Thou wept'st, and with thee wept each gentle Muse. + +When, lo! a harlot form[384] soft sliding by, +With mincing step, small voice, and languid eye: +Foreign her air, her robe's discordant pride +In patchwork fluttering, and her head aside: +By singing peers upheld on either hand, +She tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to stand; 50 +Cast on the prostrate Nine a scornful look, +Then thus in quaint recitative spoke: + +'O Cara! Cara! silence all that train: +Joy to great Chaos! let division reign:[385] +Chromatic[386] tortures soon shall drive them hence, +Break all their nerves, and fritter all their sense: +One trill shall harmonise joy, grief, and rage, +Wake the dull church, and lull the ranting stage;[387] +To the same notes thy sons shall hum, or snore, +And all thy yawning daughters cry, Encore! 60 +Another Phoebus, thy own Phoebus, reigns, +Joys in my jigs, and dances in my chains. +But soon, ah soon, rebellion will commence, +If music meanly borrows aid from sense: +Strong in new arms, lo! giant Handel stands, +Like bold Briareus, with a hundred hands; +To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes, +And Jove's own thunders follow Mars's drums. +Arrest him, empress; or you sleep no more'-- +She heard, and drove him to the Hibernian shore. 70 + +And now had Fame's posterior trumpet blown, +And all the nations summon'd to the throne. +The young, the old, who feel her inward sway, +One instinct seizes, and transports away. +None need a guide, by sure attraction led, +And strong impulsive gravity of head; +None want a place, for all their centre found, +Hung to the goddess, and cohered around. +Not closer, orb in orb, conglobed are seen +The buzzing bees about their dusky queen. 80 + +The gathering number, as it moves along, +Involves a vast involuntary throng, +Who, gently drawn, and struggling less and less, +Roll in her vortex, and her power confess. +Not those alone who passive own her laws, +But who, weak rebels, more advance her cause. +Whate'er of dunce in college or in town +Sneers at another, in toupee or gown; +Whate'er of mongrel no one class admits, +A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits. 90 + +Nor absent they, no members of her state, +Who pay her homage in her sons, the great; +Who, false to Phoebus, bow the knee to Baal; +Or, impious, preach his word without a call. +Patrons, who sneak from living worth to dead, +Withhold the pension, and set up the head; +Or vest dull flattery in the sacred gown; +Or give from fool to fool the laurel crown. +And (last and worst) with all the cant of wit, +Without the soul, the Muse's hypocrite. 100 + +There march'd the bard and blockhead, side by side, +Who rhymed for hire, and patronised for pride. +Narcissus,[388] praised with all a parson's power, +Look'd a white lily sunk beneath a shower. +There moved Montalto with superior air; +His stretch'd-out arm display'd a volume fair; +Courtiers and patriots in two ranks divide, +Through both he pass'd, and bow'd from side to side; +But as in graceful act, with awful eye +Composed he stood, bold Benson[389] thrust him by: 110 +On two unequal crutches propp'd he came, +Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's name. +The decent knight[390] retired with sober rage, +Withdrew his hand, and closed the pompous page. +But (happy for him as the times went then) +Appear'd Apollo's mayor and aldermen, +On whom three hundred gold-capp'd youths await, +To lug the ponderous volume off in state. + +When Dulness, smiling--'Thus revive the wits! +But murder first, and mince them all to bits; 120 +As erst Medea (cruel, so to save!) +A new edition of old Aeson gave; +Let standard authors, thus, like trophies borne, +Appear more glorious as more hack'd and torn. +And you, my critics! in the chequer'd shade, +Admire new light through holes yourselves have made. +Leave not a foot of verse, a foot of stone, +A page, a grave, that they can call their own; +But spread, my sons, your glory thin or thick, +On passive paper, or on solid brick. 130 +So by each bard an alderman[391] shall sit, +A heavy lord shall hang at every wit, +And while on Fame's triumphal car they ride, +Some slave of mine be pinion'd to their side.' + +Now crowds on crowds around the goddess press, +Each eager to present the first address. +Dunce scorning dunce beholds the next advance, +But fop shows fop superior complaisance. +When, lo! a spectre rose, whose index-hand +Held forth the virtue of the dreadful wand; 140 +His beaver'd brow a birchen garland wears, +Dropping with infants' blood and mothers' tears. +O'er every rein a shuddering horror runs; +Eton and Winton shake through all their sons. +All flesh is humbled, Westminster's bold race +Shrink, and confess the genius of the place: +The pale boy-senator yet tingling stands, +And holds his breeches close with both his hands. + +Then thus: 'Since man from beast by words is known, +Words are man's province, words we teach alone, 150 +When reason doubtful, like the Samian letter,[392] +Points him two ways, the narrower is the better. +Placed at the door of Learning, youth to guide, +We never suffer it to stand too wide. +To ask, to guess, to know, as they commence, +As fancy opens the quick springs of sense, +We ply the memory, we load the brain, +Bind rebel wit, and double chain on chain, +Confine the thought, to exercise the breath, +And keep them in the pale of words till death. 160 +Whate'er the talents, or howe'er design'd, +We hang one jingling padlock on the mind: +A poet the first day he dips his quill; +And what the last? a very poet still. +Pity! the charm works only in our wall, +Lost, lost too soon in yonder House or Hall.[393] +There truant Wyndham every Muse gave o'er, +There Talbot sunk, and was a wit no more! +How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast! +How many Martials were in Pulteney lost! 170 +Else sure some bard, to our eternal praise, +In twice ten thousand rhyming nights and days, +Had reach'd the work, the all that mortal can, +And South beheld that master-piece of man.'[394] + +'Oh (cried the goddess) for some pedant reign! +Some gentle James,[395] to bless the land again; +To stick the doctor's chair into the throne, +Give law to words, or war with words alone, +Senates and courts with Greek and Latin rule, +And turn the council to a grammar school! 180 +For sure, if Dulness sees a grateful day, +'Tis in the shade of arbitrary sway. +Oh! if my sons may learn one earthly thing, +Teach but that one, sufficient for a king; +That which my priests, and mine alone, maintain, +Which as it dies or lives, we fall or reign: +May you, may Cam and Isis, preach it long! +"The right divine of kings to govern wrong."' + +Prompt at the call, around the goddess roll +Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable shoal: 190 +Thick and more thick the black blockade extends, +A hundred head of Aristotle's friends. +Nor wert thou, Isis! wanting to the day, +Though Christ-church long kept prudishly away. +Each stanch polemic, stubborn as a rock, +Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke,[396] +Came whip and spur, and dash'd through thin and thick +On German Crousaz,[397] and Dutch Burgersdyck. +As many quit the streams[398] that murmuring fall +To lull the sons of Margaret and Clare-hall, 200 +Where Bentley late tempestuous wont to sport +In troubled waters, but now sleeps in port.[399] +Before them march'd that awful Aristarch! +Plough'd was his front with many a deep remark: +His hat, which never vail'd to human pride, +Walker with reverence took, and laid aside. +Low bow'd the rest: he, kingly, did but nod; +So upright Quakers please both man and God. +'Mistress! dismiss that rabble from your throne: +Avaunt! is Aristarchus yet unknown? 210 +Thy mighty scholiast, whose unwearied pains +Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains. +Turn what they will to verse, their toil is vain, +Critics like me shall make it prose again. +Roman and Greek grammarians! know your better, +Author of something yet more great than letter;[400] +While towering o'er your alphabet, like Saul, +Stands our digamma,[401] and o'ertops them all. + +''Tis true, on words is still our whole debate, +Disputes of _me_ or _te_, of _aut_ or _at_, 220 +To sound or sink in _cano_, O or A, +Or give up Cicero[402] to C or K. +Let Freind[403] affect to speak as Terence spoke, +And Alsop never but like Horace joke: +For me, what Virgil, Pliny, may deny, +Manilius or Solinus[404] shall supply: +For Attic phrase in Plato let them seek, +I poach in Suidas[405] for unlicensed Greek. +In ancient sense if any needs will deal, +Be sure I give them fragments, not a meal; 230 +What Gellius or Stobaeus hash'd before, +Or chew'd by blind old scholiasts o'er and o'er, +The critic eye, that microscope of wit, +Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit: +How parts relate to parts, or they to whole, +The body's harmony, the beaming soul, +Are things which Kuster, Burman, Wasse shall see, +When Man's whole frame is obvious to a flea. + +'Ah, think not, mistress! more true Dulness lies +In Folly's cap, than Wisdom's grave disguise; 240 +Like buoys, that never sink into the flood, +On Learning's surface we but lie and nod. +Thine is the genuine head of many a house, +And much divinity[406] without a [Greek: Nous]. +Nor could a Barrow work on every block, +Nor has one Atterbury spoil'd the flock. +See! still thy own, the heavy cannon roll, +And metaphysic smokes involve the pole. +For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head +With all such reading as was never read: 250 +For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, +And write about it, goddess, and about it: +So spins the silk-worm small its slender store, +And labours till it clouds itself all o'er. + +'What though we let some better sort of fool +Thrid every science, run through every school? +Never by tumbler through the hoops was shown +Such skill in passing all, and touching none. +He may indeed (if sober all this time) +Plague with dispute, or persecute with rhyme. 260 +We only furnish what he cannot use, +Or wed to what he must divorce, a Muse: +Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once, +And petrify a genius to a dunce;[407] +Or, set on metaphysic ground to prance, +Show all his paces, not a step advance. +With the same cement, ever sure to bind, +We bring to one dead level every mind. +Then take him to develop, if you can, +And hew the block off,[408] and get out the man. 270 +But wherefore waste I words? I see advance +Whore, pupil, and laced governor from France. +Walker! our hat,'--nor more he deign'd to say, +But, stern as Ajax' spectre,[409] strode away. + +In flow'd at once a gay embroider'd race, +And tittering push'd the pedants off the place: +Some would have spoken, but the voice was drown'd +By the French horn, or by the opening hound. +The first came forwards,[410] with an easy mien, +As if he saw St James's[411] and the queen; 280 +When thus the attendant orator begun: +'Receive, great empress! thy accomplish'd son: +Thine from the birth, and sacred from the rod, +A dauntless infant! never scared with God. +The sire saw, one by one, his virtues wake: +The mother begg'd the blessing of a rake. +Thou gav'st that ripeness which so soon began, +And ceased so soon--he ne'er was boy nor man; +Through school and college, thy kind cloud o'ercast, +Safe and unseen the young AEneas pass'd: 290 +Thence bursting glorious, all at once let down, +Stunn'd with his giddy 'larum half the town. +Intrepid then, o'er seas and lands he flew: +Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too. +There all thy gifts and graces we display, +Thou, only thou, directing all our way, +To where the Seine, obsequious as she runs, +Pours at great Bourbon's feet her silken sons; +Or Tiber, now no longer Roman, rolls, +Vain of Italian arts, Italian souls: 300 +To happy convents, bosom'd deep in vines, +Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines: +To isles of fragrance, lily-silver'd vales,[412] +Diffusing languor in the panting gales: +To lands of singing or of dancing slaves, +Love-whispering woods, and lute-resounding waves. +But chief her shrine where naked Venus keeps, +And Cupids ride the lion of the deeps;[413] +Where, eased of fleets, the Adriatic main +Wafts the smooth eunuch and enamour'd swain, 310 +Led by my hand, he saunter'd Europe round, +And gather'd every vice on Christian ground; +Saw every court, heard every king declare +His royal sense of operas or the fair; +The stews and palace equally explored, +Intrigued with glory, and with spirit whored; +Tried all hors-d'oeuvres, all liqueurs defined, +Judicious drank, and greatly-daring dined;[414] +Dropp'd the dull lumber of the Latin store, +Spoil'd his own language, and acquired no more; 320 +All classic learning lost on classic ground; +And last turned air, the echo of a sound! +See now, half-cured, and perfectly well-bred, +With nothing but a solo in his head; +As much estate, and principle, and wit, +As Jansen, Fleetwood, Cibber[415] shall think fit; +Stolen from a duel, follow'd by a nun, +And, if a borough choose him, not undone; +See, to my country happy I restore +This glorious youth, and add one Venus more. 330 +Her too receive (for her my soul adores), +So may the sons of sons of sons of whores +Prop thine, O empress! like each neighbour throne, +And make a long posterity thy own.' +Pleased, she accepts the hero, and the dame +Wraps in her veil, and frees from sense of shame. + +Then look'd, and saw a lazy, lolling sort, +Unseen at church, at senate, or at court, +Of ever-listless loiterers that attend +No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend. 340 +Thee, too, my Paridel![416] she marked thee there, +Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair, +And heard thy everlasting yawn confess +The pains and penalties of idleness. +She pitied! but her pity only shed +Benigner influence on thy nodding head. +But Annius,[417] crafty seer, with ebon wand, +And well-dissembled emerald on his hand, +False as his gems, and canker'd as his coins, +Came, cramm'd with capon, from where Pollio dines. 350 +Soft, as the wily fox is seen to creep, +Where bask on sunny banks the simple sheep, +Walk round and round, now prying here, now there, +So he; but pious, whisper'd first his prayer. + +'Grant, gracious goddess! grant me still to cheat,[418] +Oh may thy cloud still cover the deceit! +Thy choicer mists on this assembly shed, +But pour them thickest on the noble head. +So shall each youth, assisted by our eyes, +See other Caesars, other Homers rise; 360 +Through twilight ages hunt the Athenian fowl,[419] +Which Chalcis gods, and mortals call an owl, +Now see an Attys, now a Cecrops[420] clear, +Nay, Mahomet! the pigeon at thine ear; +Be rich in ancient brass, though not in gold, +And keep his Lares, though his house be sold; +To headless Phoebe his fair bride postpone, +Honour a Syrian prince above his own; +Lord of an Otho, if I vouch it true; +Bless'd in one Niger, till he knows of two.' 370 + +Mummius[421] o'erheard him; Mummius, fool-renown'd, +Who like his Cheops[422] stinks above the ground, +Fierce as a startled adder, swell'd, and said, +Rattling an ancient sistrum at his head; + +'Speak'st thou of Syrian prince?[423] Traitor base! +Mine, goddess! mine is all the horned race. +True, he had wit to make their value rise; +From foolish Greeks to steal them was as wise; +More glorious yet, from barbarous hands to keep, +When Sallee rovers chased him on the deep. 380 +Then, taught by Hermes, and divinely bold, +Down his own throat he risk'd the Grecian gold, +Received each demi-god, with pious care, +Deep in his entrails--I revered them there, +I bought them, shrouded in that Irving shrine, +And, at their second birth, they issue mine.' + +'Witness, great Ammon![424] by whose horns I swore, +(Replied soft Annius) this our paunch before +Still bears them, faithful; and that thus I eat, +Is to refund the medals with the meat. 390 +To prove me, goddess! clear of all design, +Bid me with Pollio sup, as well as dine: +There all the learn'd shall at the labour stand, +And Douglas[425] lend his soft, obstetric hand.' + +The goddess smiling seem'd to give consent; +So back to Pollio, hand in hand, they went. + +Then thick as locusts blackening all the ground, +A tribe, with weeds and shells fantastic crown'd, +Each with some wondrous gift approach'd the power, +A nest, a toad, a fungus, or a flower. 400 +But far the foremost, two, with earnest zeal, +And aspect ardent, to the throne appeal. + +The first thus open'd: 'Hear thy suppliant's call, +Great queen, and common mother of us all! +Fair from its humble bed I rear'd this flower, +Suckled, and cheer'd, with air, and sun, and shower; +Soft on the paper ruff its leaves I spread, +Bright with the gilded button tipp'd its head; +Then throned in glass, and named it Caroline:[426] +Each maid cried, charming! and each youth, divine! 410 +Did Nature's pencil ever blend such rays, +Such varied light in one promiscuous blaze? +Now prostrate! dead! behold that Caroline: +No maid cries, charming! and no youth, divine! +And lo, the wretch! whose vile, whose insect lust +Laid this gay daughter of the spring in dust. +Oh, punish him, or to th' Elysian shades +Dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.' +He ceased, and wept. With innocence of mien, +Th' accused stood forth, and thus address'd the queen: 420 + +'Of all th' enamell'd race, whose silvery wing +Waves to the tepid zephyrs of the spring, +Or swims along the fluid atmosphere, +Once brightest shined this child of heat and air. +I saw, and started, from its vernal bower, +The rising game, and chased from flower to flower; +It fled, I follow'd; now in hope, now pain; +It stopp'd, I stopp'd; it moved, I moved again. +At last it fix'd; 'twas on what plant it pleased, +And where it fix'd, the beauteous bird I seized: 430 +Rose or carnation was below my care; +I meddle, goddess! only in my sphere. +I tell the naked fact without disguise, +And, to excuse it, need but show the prize; +Whose spoils this paper offers to your eye, +Fair ev'n in death! this peerless butterfly.' + +'My sons! (she answer'd) both have done your parts: +Live happy both, and long promote our arts. +But hear a mother, when she recommends +To your fraternal care our sleeping friends. 440 +The common soul, of Heaven's more frugal make, +Serves but to keep fools pert and knaves awake: +A drowsy watchman, that just gives a knock, +And breaks our rest, to tell us what's a clock. +Yet by some object every brain is stirr'd; +The dull may waken to a humming-bird; +The most recluse, discreetly open'd, find +Congenial matter in the cockle-kind; +The mind in metaphysics at a loss, +May wander in a wilderness of moss;[427] 450 +The head that turns at super-lunar things, +Poised with a tail, may steer on Wilkins' wings.[428] + +'Oh! would the sons of men once think their eyes +And reason given them but to study flies! +See nature in some partial narrow shape, +And let the Author of the whole escape: +Learn but to trifle; or, who most observe, +To wonder at their Maker, not to serve.' + +'Be that my task' (replies a gloomy clerk, +Sworn foe to mystery, yet divinely dark; 460 +Whose pious hope aspires to see the day +When moral evidence[429] shall quite decay, +And damns implicit faith, and holy lies, +Prompt to impose, and fond to dogmatise:) +'Let others creep by timid steps and slow, +On plain experience lay foundations low, +By common sense to common knowledge bred, +And last, to Nature's cause through Nature led: +All-seeing in thy mists, we want no guide, +Mother of arrogance, and source of pride! 470 +We nobly take the high priori road,[430] +And reason downward, till we doubt of God: +Make Nature still[431] encroach upon his plan; +And shove him off as far as e'er we can: +Thrust some mechanic cause into his place; +Or bind in matter, or diffuse in space.[432] +Or, at one bound o'erleaping all his laws, +Make God man's image, man the final cause, +Find virtue local, all relation scorn, +See all in self, and but for self be born: 480 +Of nought so certain as our reason still, +Of nought so doubtful as of soul and will. +O! hide the God still more! and make us see, +Such as Lucretius drew, a God like thee: +Wrapt up in self, a God without a thought, +Regardless of our merit or default. +Or that bright image[433] to our fancy draw, +Which Theocles[434] in raptured vision saw, +While through poetic scenes the genius roves, +Or wanders wild in academic groves; 490 +That Nature our society adores,[435] +Where Tindal dictates, and Silenus[436] snores.' + +Roused at his name, up rose the bousy sire, +And shook from out his pipe the seeds of fire; +Then snapt his box, and stroked his belly down: +Rosy and reverend, though without a gown. +Bland and familiar to the throne he came, +Led up the youth, and call'd the goddess dame. +Then thus: 'From priestcraft happily set free, +Lo! every finish'd son returns to thee: 500 +First, slave to words,[437] then vassal to a name, +Then dupe to party; child and man the same; +Bounded by nature, narrow'd still by art, +A trifling head, and a contracted heart; +Thus bred, thus taught, how many have I seen, +Smiling on all, and smiled on by a queen?[438] +Mark'd out for honours, honour'd for their birth, +To thee the most rebellious things on earth: +Now to thy gentle shadow all are shrunk, +All melted down in pension or in punk! 510 +So K----, so B---- sneak'd into the grave, +A monarch's half, and half a harlot's slave. +Poor W----,[439] nipp'd in folly's broadest bloom, +Who praises now? his chaplain on his tomb. +Then take them all, oh, take them to thy breast! +Thy Magus, goddess! shall perform the rest.' + +With that, a wizard old his cup extends, +Which whoso tastes forgets his former friends, +Sire, ancestors, himself. One casts his eyes +Up to a star, and like Endymion dies: 520 +A feather, shooting from another's head, +Extracts his brain, and principle is fled; +Lost is his God, his country, everything; +And nothing left but homage to a king![440] +The vulgar herd turn off to roll with hogs, +To run with horses, or to hunt with dogs; +But, sad example! never to escape +Their infamy, still keep the human shape. +But she, good goddess, sent to every child +Firm Impudence, or Stupefaction mild; 530 +And strait succeeded, leaving shame no room, +Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom. + +Kind Self-conceit to some her glass applies, +Which no one looks in with another's eyes: +But as the flatterer or dependant paint, +Beholds himself a patriot, chief, or saint. + +On others Interest her gay livery flings, +Interest, that waves on party-colour'd wings: +Turn'd to the sun, she casts a thousand dyes, +And, as she turns, the colours fall or rise. 540 + +Others the Syren sisters warble round, +And empty heads console with empty sound. +No more, alas! the voice of fame they hear, +The balm of Dulness[441] trickling in their ear. +Great C----, H----, P----, R----, K----, +Why all your toils? your sons have learn'd to sing. +How quick ambition hastes to ridicule! +The sire is made a peer, the son a fool. + +On some, a priest succinct in amice white +Attends; all flesh is nothing in his sight! 550 +Beeves, at his touch, at once to jelly turn, +And the huge boar is shrunk into an urn: +The board with specious miracles he loads,[442] +Turns hares to larks, and pigeons into toads. +Another (for in all what one can shine?) +Explains the _seve_ and _verdeur_ of the vine.[443] +What cannot copious sacrifice atone? +Thy truffles, Perigord! thy hams, Bayonne! +With French libation, and Italian strain, +Wash Bladen white, and expiate Hays's stain.[444] 560 +Knight lifts the head; for what are crowds undone +To three essential partridges in one? +Gone every blush, and silent all reproach, +Contending princes mount them in their coach. + +Next bidding all draw near on bended knees, +The queen confers her titles and degrees. +Her children first of more distinguish'd sort, +Who study Shakspeare at the Inns of Court, +Impale a glow-worm, or vertu profess, +Shine in the dignity of F.R.S. 570 +Some, deep freemasons, join the silent race, +Worthy to fill Pythagoras's place: +Some botanists, or florists at the least, +Or issue members of an annual feast. +Nor pass'd the meanest unregarded; one +Rose a Gregorian, one a Gormogon.[445] +The last, not least in honour or applause, +Isis and Cam made Doctors of her Laws. + +Then, blessing all, 'Go, children of my care! +To practice now from theory repair. 580 +All my commands are easy, short, and full: +My sons! be proud, be selfish, and be dull. +Guard my prerogative, assert my throne: +This nod confirms each privilege your own. +The cap and switch be sacred to his grace; +With staff and pumps the marquis lead the race; +From stage to stage the licensed earl may run, +Pair'd with his fellow-charioteer the sun; +The learned baron butterflies design, +Or draw to silk Arachne's subtile line;[446] 590 +The judge to dance his brother sergeant call;[447] +The senator at cricket urge the ball; +The bishop stow (pontific luxury!) +An hundred souls of turkeys in a pie; +The sturdy squire to Gallic masters stoop, +And drown his lands and manors in a soup. +Others import yet nobler arts from France, +Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.[448] +Perhaps more high some daring son may soar, +Proud to my list to add one monarch more; 600 +And nobly conscious, princes are but things +Born for first ministers, as slaves for kings, +Tyrant supreme! shall three estates command, +And MAKE ONE MIGHTY DUNCIAD OF THE LAND!' + +More she had spoke, but yawn'd--All Nature nods: +What mortal can resist the yawn of gods? +Churches and chapels instantly it reach'd; +(St James's first, for leaden Gilbert[449] preach'd;) +Then catch'd the schools; the Hall scarce kept awake; +The Convocation gaped, but could not speak; 610 +Lost was the nation's sense, nor could be found, +While the long solemn unison went round: +Wide, and more wide, it spread o'er all the realm; +Even Palinurus nodded at the helm: +The vapour mild o'er each committee crept; +Unfinish'd treaties in each office slept; +And chiefless armies dozed out the campaign; +And navies yawn'd for orders on the main.[450] + +O Muse! relate (for you can tell alone, +Wits have short memories, and dunces none,) 620 +Relate, who first, who last resign'd to rest; +Whose heads she partly, whose completely bless'd; +What charms could faction, what ambition, lull, +The venal quiet, and entrance the dull; +'Till drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and wrong-- +O sing, and hush the nations with thy song! + +In vain, in vain,--the all-composing hour +Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the power. +She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold +Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old! 630 +Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, +And all its varying rainbows die away. +Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, +The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. +As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, +The sick'ning stars fade off the ethereal plain; +As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand oppress'd, +Closed one by one to everlasting rest; +Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, +Art after art goes out, and all is night. 640 +See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,[451] +Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head! +Philosophy, that lean'd on heaven before, +Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. +Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, +And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! +See Mystery to Mathematics fly! +In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. +Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, +And unawares Morality expires. 650 +Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; +Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! +Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; +Light dies before thy uncreating word: +Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; +And universal darkness buries all. + + +VARIATIONS. + +VER. 114-- + +'What! no respect, he cried, for Shakspeare's page?' + +VER. 441. The common soul, &c. In the first edition, thus-- + +Of souls the greater part, Heaven's common make, +Serve but to keep fools pert, and knaves awake; +And most but find that sentinel of God, +A drowsy watchman in the land of Nod. + +VER. 643. In the former edition, it stood thus-- + +Philosophy, that reach'd the heavens before, +Shrinks to her hidden cause, and is no more. + + +BY THE AUTHOR. + +A DECLARATION. + +Whereas certain haberdashers of points and particles, being instigated +by the spirit of pride, and assuming to themselves the name of critics +and restorers, have taken upon them to adulterate the common and current +sense of our glorious ancestors, poets of this realm, by clipping, +coining, defacing the images, mixing their own base alloy, or otherwise +falsifying the same; which they publish, utter, and vend as genuine: The +said haberdashers having no right thereto, as neither heirs, executors, +administrators, assigns, or in any sort related to such poets, to all or +any of them: Now we, having carefully revised this our Dunciad,[452] +beginning with the words 'The Mighty Mother,' and ending with the words +'buries all,' containing the entire sum of one thousand seven hundred +and fifty-four verses, declare every word, figure, point, and comma of +this impression to be authentic: And do therefore strictly enjoin and +forbid any person or persons whatsoever, to erase, reverse, put between +hooks, or by any other means, directly or indirectly, change or mangle +any of them. And we do hereby earnestly exhort all our brethren to +follow this our example, which we heartily wish our great predecessors +had heretofore set, as a remedy and prevention of all such abuses. +Provided always, that nothing in this Declaration shall be construed to +limit the lawful and undoubted right of every subject of this realm, to +judge, censure, or condemn, in the whole or in part, any poem or poet +whatsoever. + +Given under our hand at London, this third day of January, in the year +of our Lord one thousand seven hundred thirty and two. + +Declarat' cor' me, +JOHN BARBER, Mayor. + + + + +APPENDIX TO THE DUNCIAD. + + +I.--PREFACE + +PREFIXED TO THE FIVE FIRST IMPERFECT EDITIONS OF THE DUNCIAD, IN THREE +BOOKS, PRINTED AT DUBLIN AND LONDON, IN OCTAVO AND DUODECIMO, 1727. + +THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER. + +It will be found a true observation, though somewhat surprising, that +when any scandal is vented against a man of the highest distinction and +character, either in the state or in literature, the public in general +afford it a most quiet reception; and the larger part accept it as +favourably as if it were some kindness done to themselves: whereas, if a +known scoundrel or blockhead but chance to be touched upon, a whole +legion is up in arms, and it becomes the common cause of all scribblers, +booksellers, and printers whatsoever. + +Not to search too deeply into the reason hereof, I will only observe as +a fact, that every week for these two months past, the town has been +persecuted with pamphlets, advertisements, letters, and weekly essays, +not only against the wit and writings, but against the character and +person of Mr Pope. And that of all those men who have received pleasure +from his works, which by modest computation may be about a hundred +thousand in these kingdoms of England and Ireland (not to mention +Jersey, Guernsey, the Orcades, those in the new world, and foreigners +who have translated him into their languages), of all this number not a +man hath stood up to say one word in his defence. + +The only exception is the author of the following poem, who, doubtless, +had either a better insight into the grounds of this clamour, or a +better opinion of Mr Pope's integrity, joined with a greater personal +love for him, than any other of his numerous friends and admirers. + +Further, that he was in his peculiar intimacy, appears from the +knowledge he manifests of the most private authors of all the anonymous +pieces against him, and from his having in this poem attacked no man +living, who had not before printed or published some scandal against +this gentleman. + +How I came possessed of it is no concern to the reader; but it would +have been a wrong to him had I detained the publication, since those +names which are its chief ornaments die off daily so fast, as must +render it too soon unintelligible. If it provoke the author to give us a +more perfect edition, I have my end. + +Who he is I cannot say, and (which is a great pity) there is certainly +nothing in his style and manner of writing which can distinguish or +discover him: for if it bears any resemblance to that of Mr Pope, 'tis +not improbable but it might be done on purpose, with a view to have it +pass for his. But by the frequency of his allusions to Virgil, and a +laboured (not to say affected) shortness in imitation of him, I should +think him more an admirer of the Roman poet than of the Grecian, and in +that not of the same taste with his friend. + +I have been well informed, that this work was the labour of full six +years of his life, and that he wholly retired himself from all the +avocations and pleasures of the world, to attend diligently to its +correction and perfection; and six years more he intended to bestow upon +it, as it should seem by this verse of Statius, which was cited at the +head of his manuscript-- + +'Oh mihi bissenos multum vigilata per annos, +Duncia!' + +Hence, also, we learn the true title of the poem; which, with the same +certainty as we call that of Homer the Iliad, of Virgil the Aeneid, of +Camoens the Lusiad, we may pronounce, could have been, and can be no +other than + +THE DUNCIAD. + +It is styled heroic, as being doubly so: not only with respect to its +nature, which, according to the best rules of the ancients, and +strictest ideas of the moderns, is critically such; but also with regard +to the heroical disposition and high courage of the writer, who dared to +stir up such a formidable, irritable, and implacable race of mortals. + +There may arise some obscurity in chronology from the names in the poem, +by the inevitable removal of some authors, and insertion of others in +their niches. For whoever will consider the unity of the whole design, +will be sensible that the poem was not made for these authors, but these +authors for the poem. I should judge that they were clapped in as they +rose, fresh and fresh, and changed from day to day; in like manner as +when the old boughs wither, we thrust new ones into a chimney. + +I would not have the reader too much troubled or anxious, if he cannot +decipher them; since when he shall have found them out, he will probably +know no more of the persons than before. + +Yet we judged it better to preserve them as they are, than to change +them for fictitious names; by which the satire would only be multiplied, +and applied to many instead of one. Had the hero, for instance, been +called Codrus, how many would have affirmed him to have been Mr T., Mr +E., Sir R. B., &c.; but now all that unjust scandal is saved by calling +him by a name, which by good luck happens to be that of a real person. + + +II.--A LIST OF BOOKS, PAPERS, AND VERSES, + +IN WHICH OUR AUTHOR WAS ABUSED, BEFORE THE PUBLICATION OF THE DUNCIAD; +WITH THE TRUE NAMES OF THE AUTHORS. + +Reflections Critical and Satirical on a late Rhapsody, called an Essay +on Criticism. By Mr Dennis. Printed by B. Lintot, price 6d. + +A New Rehearsal, or Bayes the Younger; containing an Examen of Mr Rowe's +plays, and a word or two on Mr Pope's Rape of the Lock. Anon. [By +Charles Gildon]. Printed for J. Roberts, 1714, price 1s. + +Homerides, or a Letter to Mr Pope, occasioned by his intended +translation of Homer. By Sir Iliad Doggrel. [Tho. Burnet and G. Ducket, +Esquires]. Printed for W. Wilkins, 1715, price 9d. + +Aesop at the Bear Garden; a Vision, in imitation of the Temple of Fame. +By Mr Preston. Sold by John Morphew, 1715, price 6d. + +The Catholic Poet, or Protestant Barnaby's Sorrowful Lamentations; a +Ballad about Homer's Iliad. By Mrs Centlivre and others, 1715, price 1d. + +An Epilogue to a Puppet Show at Bath, concerning the said Iliad. By +George Ducket, Esq. Printed by E. Curll. + +A Complete Key to the What-d'ye-call-it? Anon. [By Griffin, a player, +supervised by Mr Th---]. Printed by J. Roberts, 1715. + +A True Character of Mr P. and his Writings, in a Letter to a Friend. +Anon. [Dennis]. Printed for S. Popping, 1716, price 3d. + +The Confederates, a Farce. By Joseph Gay. [J. D. Breval]. Printed for R. +Burleigh, 1717, price 1s. + +Remarks upon Mr Pope's Translation of Homer; with Two Letters concerning +the Windsor Forest, and the Temple of Fame. By Mr Dennis. Printed for E. +Curll, 1717, price 1s. 6d. + +Satires on the Translators of Homer, Mr P. and Mr T. Anon. [Bez. +Morris]. 1717, price 6d. + +The Triumvirate; or, a Letter from Palaemon to Celia at Bath. Anon. +[Leonard Welsted]. 1711, folio, price 1s. + +The Battle of Poets, an Heroic Poem. By Thomas Cooke. Printed for J. +Roberts. Folio, 1725. + +Memoirs of Lilliput. Anon. [Eliza Haywood]. Octavo, printed in 1727. + +An Essay on Criticism, in Prose. By the Author of the Critical History +of England [J. Oldmixon]. Octavo, printed 1728. + +Gulliveriana and Alexandriana; with an ample Preface and Critique on +Swift and Pope's Miscellanies. By Jonathan Smedley. Printed by J. +Roberts. Octavo, 1728. + +Characters of the Times; or, an Account of the Writings, Characters, +&c., of several Gentlemen libelled by S---- and P---, in a late +Miscellany. Octavo, 1728. + +Remarks on Mr Pope's Rape of the Lock, in Letters to a Friend. By Mr +Dennis. Written in 1724, though not printed till 1728. Octavo. + + +VERSES, LETTERS, ESSAYS, OR ADVERTISEMENTS, IN THE PUBLIC PRINTS. + +British Journal, Nov. 25, 1727. A Letter on Swift and Pope's +Miscellanies. [Writ by M. Concanen]. + +Daily Journal, March 18, 1728. A Letter by Philo-mauri. James Moore +Smith. + +_Ibid_. March 29. A Letter about Thersites; accusing the author of +disaffection to the Government. By James Moore Smith. + +Mist's Weekly Journal, March 30. An Essay on the Arts of a Poet's +Sinking in Reputation; or, a Supplement to the Art of Sinking in Poetry. +[Supposed by Mr Theobald]. + +Daily Journal, April 3. A Letter under the name of Philo-ditto. By James +Moore Smith. + +Flying Post, April 4. A Letter against Gulliver and Mr P. [By Mr +Oldmixon.] + +Daily Journal, April 5. An Auction of Goods at Twickenham. By James +Moore Smith. + +The Flying Post, April 6. A Fragment of a Treatise upon Swift and Pope. +By Mr Oldmixon. + +The Senator, April 9. On the same. By Edward Roome. + +Daily Journal, April 8. Advertisement by James Moore Smith. + +Flying Post, April 13. Verses against Dr Swift, and against Mr P---'s +Homer. By J. Oldmixon. + +Daily Journal, April 23. Letter about the Translation of the Character +of Thersites in Homer. By Thomas Cooke, &c. + +Mist's Weekly Journal, April 27. A Letter of Lewis Theobald. + +Daily Journal, May 11. A Letter against Mr P. at large. Anon. [John +Dennis]. + +All these were afterwards reprinted in a pamphlet, entitled, A +Collection of all the Verses, Essays, Letters, and Advertisements, +occasioned by Mr Pope and Swift's Miscellanies, prefaced by Concanen, +Anonymous, octavo, and printed for A. Moore, 1728, price 1s. Others of +an elder date, having lain as waste paper many years, were, upon the +publication of the Dunciad, brought out, and their authors betrayed by +the mercenary booksellers (in hope of some possibility of vending a +few), by advertising them in this manner:--"The Confederates, a Farce. +By Captain Breval (for which he was put into the Dunciad). An Epilogue +to Powell's Puppet Show. By Colonel Ducket (for which he is put into the +Dunciad). Essays, &c. By Sir Richard Blackmore. (N.B.--It was for a +passage of this book that Sir Richard was put into the Dunciad)." And so +of others. + + +AFTER THE DUNCIAD, 1728. + +An Essay on the Dunciad, octavo. Printed for J. Roberts. [In this book, +p. 9, it was formally declared, 'That the complaint of the aforesaid +libels and advertisements was forged and untrue; that all mouths had +been silent, except in Mr Pope's praise; and nothing against him +published, but by Mr Theobald.'] + +Sawney, in Blank Verse, occasioned by the Dunciad; with a Critique on +that Poem. By J. Ralph [a person never mentioned in it at first, but +inserted after]. Printed for J. Roberts, octavo. + +A Complete Key to the Dunciad. By E. Curll. 12mo, price 6d. + +A Second and Third Edition of the same, with Additions, 12mo. + +The Popiad. By E. Curll. Extracted from J. Dennis, Sir Richard +Blackmore, &c. 12mo, price 6d. + +The Curliad. By the same E. Curll. + +The Female Dunciad. Collected by the same Mr Curll. 12mo, price 6d. With +the Metamorphosis of P. into a Stinging Nettle. By Mr Foxton. 12mo. + +The Metamorphosis of Scriblerus into Snarlerus. By J. Smedley. Printed +for A. Moore, folio, price 6d. + +The Dunciad Dissected. By Curll and Mrs Thomas. 12mo. + +An Essay on the Tastes and Writings of the Present Times. Said to be +writ by a Gentleman of C. C. C. Oxon. Printed for J. Roberts, octavo. + +The Arts of Logic and Rhetoric, partly taken from Bouhours, with New +Reflections, &c. By John Oldmixon. Octavo. + +Remarks on the Dunciad. By Mr Dennis. Dedicated to Theobald. Octavo. + +A Supplement to the Profund. Anon. By Matthew Coucanen. Octavo. + +Mist's Weekly Journal, June 8. A long Letter, signed W. A. Writ by some +or other of the Club of Theobald, Dennis, Moore, Concanen, Cooke, who +for some time held constant weekly meetings for these kind of +performances. + +Daily Journal, June 11. A Letter signed Philoscriblerus, on the name of +Pope. Letter to Mr Theobald, inverse, signed B. M. (Bezaleel Morris) +against Mr P---. Many other little Epigrams about this time in the same +papers, by James Moore, and others. + +Mist's Journal, June 22. A Letter by Lewis Theobald. + +Flying Post, August 8. Letter on Pope and Swift. + +Daily Journal, August 8. Letter charging the Author of the Dunciad with +Treason. + +Durgen: A Plain Satire on a Pompous Satirist. By Edward Ward, with a +little of James Moore. + +Apollo's Maggot in his Cups. By E. Ward. + +Gulliveriana Secunda. Being a Collection of many of the Libels in the +Newspapers, like the former Volume, under the same title, by Smedley. +Advertised in the Craftsman, Nov. 9, 1728, with this remarkable promise, +that '_any thing_ which _any body_ should send as Mr Pope's or Dr +Swift's should be inserted and published as theirs.' + +Pope Alexander's Supremacy and Infallibility Examined, &c. By George +Ducket and John Dennis. Quarto. + +Dean Jonathan's Paraphrase on the Fourth Chapter of Genesis. Writ by E. +Roome. Folio. 1729. + +Labeo. A Paper of Verses by Leonard Welsted, which after came into _One +Epistle_, and was published by James Moore, quarto, 1730. Another part +of it came out in Welsted's own name, under the just title of Dulness +and Scandal, folio, 1731. + +There have been since published-- + +Verses on the Imitator of Horace. By a Lady (or between a Lady, a Lord, +and a Court-squire). Printed for J. Roberts. Folio. + +An Epistle from a Nobleman to a Doctor of Divinity, from Hampton Court +(Lord H---y). Printed for J. Roberts. Folio. + +A Letter from Mr Cibber to Mr Pope. Printed for W. Lewis in Covent +Garden. Octavo. + + +III.--ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION--WITH NOTES, + +IN QUARTO, 1729. + +It will be sufficient to say of this edition, that the reader has here a +much more correct and complete copy of the Dunciad than has hitherto +appeared. I cannot answer but some mistakes may have slipped into it, +but a vast number of others will be prevented by the names being now not +only set at length, but justified by the authorities and reasons given. +I make no doubt the author's own motive to use real rather than feigned +names, was his care to preserve the innocent from any false application; +whereas, in the former editions, which had no more than the initial +letters, he was made, by Keys printed here, to hurt the inoffensive, and +(what was worse) to abuse his friends, by an impression at Dublin. + +The commentary which attends this poem was sent me from several hands, +and consequently must be unequally written; yet will have one advantage +over most commentaries, that it is not made upon conjectures, or at a +remote distance of time: and the reader cannot but derive one pleasure +from the very obscurity of the persons it treats of, that it partakes of +the nature of a secret, which most people love to be let into, though +the men or the things be ever so inconsiderable or trivial. + +Of the persons it was judged proper to give some account; for since it +is only in this monument that they must expect to survive (and here +survive they will, as long as the English tongue shall remain such as it +was in the reigns of Queen Anne and King George), it seemed but humanity +to bestow a word or two upon each, just to tell what he was, what he +writ, when he lived, and when he died. + +If a word or two more are added upon the chief offenders, it is only as +a paper pinned upon the breast, to mark the enormities for which they +suffered; lest the correction only should be remembered, and the crime +forgotten. In some articles it was thought sufficient barely to +transcribe from Jacob, Curll, and other writers of their own rank, who +were much better acquainted with them than any of the authors of this +comment can pretend to be. Most of them had drawn each other's +characters on certain occasions; but the few here inserted are all that +could be saved from the general destruction of such works. + +Of the part of Scriblerus, I need say nothing; his manner is well enough +known, and approved by all but those who are too much concerned to be +judges. + +The Imitations of the Ancients are added, to gratify those who either +never read, or may have forgotten them; together with some of the +parodies and allusions to the most excellent of the Moderns. If, from +the frequency of the former, any man think the poem too much a Cento, +our poet will but appear to have done the same thing in jest which +Boileau did in earnest; and upon which Vida, Fracastorius, and many of +the most eminent Latin poets, professedly valued themselves. + + +IV.--ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE +DUNCIAD, + +WHEN PRINTED SEPARATELY IN THE YEAR 1742. + +We apprehend it can be deemed no injury to the author of the three first +books of the Dunciad that we publish this fourth. It was found merely by +accident in taking a survey of the library of a late eminent nobleman; +but in so blotted a condition, and in so many detached pieces, as +plainly showed it to be not only incorrect, but unfinished. That the +author of the three first books had a design to extend and complete his +poem in this manner appears from the dissertation prefixed to it, where +it is said that the design is more extensive, and that we may expect +other episodes to complete it; and from the declaration in the argument +to the third book, that the accomplishment of the prophecies therein +would be the theme hereafter of a greater Dunciad. But whether or no he +be the author of this, we declare ourselves ignorant. If he be, we are +no more to be blamed for the publication of it than Tucca and Varius for +that of the last six books of the Aeneid, though perhaps inferior to the +former. + +If any person be possessed of a more perfect copy of this work, or of +any other fragments of it, and will communicate them to the publisher, +we shall make the next edition more complete: in which we also promise +to insert any criticisms that shall be published (if at all to the +purpose) with the names of the authors; or any letters sent us (though +not to the purpose) shall yet be printed under the title of _Epistolae +Obscurorum Virorum_; which, together with some others of the same kind +formerly laid by for that end, may make no unpleasant addition to the +future impressions of this poem. + + +V.--ADVERTISEMENT TO THE COMPLETE EDITION of 1743. + +I have long had a design of giving some sort of Notes on the works of +this poet. Before I had the happiness of his acquaintance, I had written +a commentary on his Essay on Man, and have since finished another on the +Essay on Criticism. There was one already on the Dunciad, which had met +with general approbation; but I still thought some additions were +wanting (of a more serious kind) to the humorous notes of Scriblerus, +and even to those written by Mr Cleland, Dr Arbuthnot, and others. I had +lately the pleasure to pass some months with the author in the country, +where I prevailed upon him to do what I had long desired, and favour me +with his explanation of several passages in his works. It happened that +just at that juncture was published a ridiculous book against him, full +of personal reflections, which furnished him with a lucky opportunity of +improving this poem, by giving it the only thing it wanted--a more +considerable hero. He was always sensible of its defect in that +particular, and owned he had let it pass with the hero it had purely for +want of a better; not entertaining the least expectation that such an +one was reserved for this post as has since obtained the Laurel: but +since that had happened, he could no longer deny this justice either to +him or the Dunciad. + +And yet I will venture to say, there was another motive which had still +more weight with our author. This person was one who from every folly +(not to say vice) of which another would be ashamed has constantly +derived a vanity; and therefore was the man in the world who would least +be hurt by it. + +W. W. + + +VI.--ADVERTISEMENT PRINTED IN THE JOURNALS, 1730. + +Whereas, upon occasion of certain pieces relating to the gentlemen of +the Dunciad, some have been willing to suggest, as if they looked upon +them as an abuse: we can do no less than own it is our opinion, that to +call these gentlemen bad authors is no sort of abuse, but a great truth. +We cannot alter this opinion without some reason; but we promise to do +it in respect to every person who thinks it an injury to be represented +as no wit, or poet, provided he procures a certificate of his being +really such, from any three of his companions in the Dunciad, or from Mr +Dennis singly, who is esteemed equal to any three of the number. + + +VII.--A PARALLEL OF THE CHARACTERS OF MR DRYDEN AND MR POPE, + +AS DRAWN BY CERTAIN OF THEIR CONTEMPORARIES. + +MR DRYDEN--HIS POLITICS, RELIGION, MORALS. + +MR DRYDEN is a mere renegado from monarchy, poetry, and good +sense[453]--a true republican son of monarchical Church[454]--a +republican atheist.[455] Dryden was from the beginning an [Greek: +alloprosallos], and I doubt not will continue so to the last.[456] + +In the poem called Absalom and Achitophel are notoriously traduced, the +King, the Queen, the Lords and Gentlemen, not only their honourable +persons exposed, but the whole nation and its representatives +notoriously libelled. It is _scandalum magnatum_, yea of majesty +itself.[457] + +He looks upon God's gospel as a foolish fable, like the Pope, to whom he +is a pitiful purveyor.[458] His very Christianity may be +questioned.[459] He ought to expect more severity than other men, as he +is most unmerciful in his own reflections on others.[460] With as good a +right as his holiness, he sets up for poetical infallibility.[461] + +MR DRYDEN ONLY A VERSIFIER. + +His whole libel is all bad matter, beautified (which is all that can be +said of it) with good metre.[462] Mr Dryden's genius did not appear in +any thing more than his versification, and whether he is to be ennobled +for that only is a question.[463] + +MR DRYDEN'S VIRGIL. + +Tonson calls it Dryden's Virgil, to show that this is not that Virgil so +admired in the Augustaean age; but a Virgil of another stamp, a silly, +impertinent, nonsensical writer.[464] None but a Bavius, a Maevius, or a +Bathyllus carped at Virgil; and none but such unthinking vermin admire +his translator.[465] It is true, soft and easy lines might become Ovid's +Epistles or Art of Love; but Virgil, who is all great and majestic, &c., +requires strength of lines, weight of words, and closeness of +expressions--not an ambling muse running on carpet-ground, and shod as +lightly as a Newmarket racer. He has numberless faults in his author's +meaning, and in propriety of expression.[466] + +MR DRYDEN UNDERSTOOD NO GREEK NOR LATIN. + +Mr Dryden was once, I have heard, at Westminster school. Dr Bushby would +have whipped him for so childish a paraphrase.[467] The meanest pedant +in England would whip a lubber of twelve for construing so +absurdly.[468] The translator is mad, every line betrays his +stupidity.[469] The faults are innumerable, and convince me that Mr +Dryden did not, or would not understand his author.[470] This shows how +fit Mr D. may be to translate Homer! A mistake in a single letter might +fall on the printer well enough, but [Greek: eichor] for [Greek: ichor] +must be the error of the author. Nor had he art enough to correct it at +the press.[471] Mr Dryden writes for the court ladies. He writes for the +ladies, and not for use.[472] + +The translator puts in a little burlesque now and then into Virgil, for +a ragout to his cheated subscribers.[473] + +MR DRYDEN TRICKED HIS SUBSCRIBERS. + +I wonder that any man, who could not but be conscious of his own +unfitness for it, should go to amuse the learned world with such an +undertaking! A man ought to value his reputation more than money; and +not to hope that those who can read for themselves will be imposed upon, +merely by a partially and unseasonably celebrated name.[474] _Poetis +quidlibei audendi_ shall be Mr Dryden's motto, though it should extend +to picking of pockets.[475] + +NAMES BESTOWED ON MR DRYDEN. + +An Ape.--A crafty ape dressed up in a gaudy gown--whips put into an +ape's paw, to play pranks with--none but apish and papish brats will +heed him.[476] + +An Ass.--A camel will take upon him no more burden than is sufficient +for his strength, but there is another beast that crouches under +all.[477] + +A Frog.--Poet Squab endued with Poet Maro's spirit! an ugly croaking +kind of vermin, which would swell to the bulk of an ox.[478] + +A Coward.--A Clinias or a Damaetas, or a man of Mr Dryden's own +courage.[479] + +A Knave.--Mr Dryden has heard of Paul, the knave of Jesus Christ; and, +if I mistake not, I've read somewhere of John Dryden, servant to his +Majesty.[480] + +A Fool.--Had he not been such a self-conceited fool.[481]--Some great +poets are positive blockheads.[482] + +A Thing.--So little a thing as Mr Dryden.[483] + + +MR POPE--HIS POLITICS, RELIGION, MORALS. + +MR POPE is an open and mortal enemy to his country, and the commonwealth +of learning.[484] Some call him a Popish Whig, which is directly +inconsistent.[485] Pope, as a papist, must be a Tory and +High-flyer.[486] He is both a Whig and Tory.[487] + +He hath made it his custom to cackle to more than one party in their own +sentiments.[488] + +In his miscellanies, the persons abused are--the King, the Queen, his +late Majesty, both Houses of Parliament, the Privy Council, the Bench of +Bishops, the Established Church, the present Ministry, &c. To make sense +of some passages, they must be construed into royal scandal.[489] + +He is a popish rhymester, bred up with a contempt of the Sacred +Writings.[490] His religion allows him to destroy heretics, not only +with his pen, but with fire and sword; and such were all those unhappy +wits whom he sacrificed to his accursed popish principles.[491] It +deserved vengeance to suggest that Mr Pope had less infallibility than +his namesake at Rome.[492] + +MR POPE ONLY A VERSIFIER. + +The smooth numbers of the Dunciad are all that recommend it, nor has it +any other merit.[493] It must be owned that he hath got a notable knack +of rhyming and writing smooth verse.[494] + +MR POPE'S HOMER. + +The Homer which Lintot prints does not talk like Homer, but like Pope; +and he who translated him, one would swear, had a hill in Tipperary for +his Parnassus, and a puddle in some bog for his Hippocrene.[495] He has +no admirers among those that can distinguish, discern, and judge.[496] +He hath a knack at smooth verse, but without either genius or good +sense, or any tolerable knowledge of English. The qualities which +distinguish Homer are the beauties of his diction and the harmony of his +versification. But this little author, who is so much in vogue, has +neither sense in his thoughts nor English in his expressions.[497] + +MR POPE UNDERSTOOD NO GREEK. + +He hath undertaken to translate Homer from the Greek, of which he knows +not one word, into English, of which he understands as little.[498] I +wonder how this gentleman would look, should it be discovered that he +has not translated ten verses together in any book of Homer with justice +to the poet, and yet he dares reproach his fellow-writers with not +understanding Greek.[499] He has stuck so little to his original as to +have his knowledge in Greek called in question.[500] I should be glad to +know which it is of all Homer's excellencies which has so delighted the +ladies, and the gentlemen who judge like ladies.[501] + +But he has a notable talent at burlesque; his genius slides so naturally +into it, that he hath burlesqued Homer without designing it.[502] + +MR POPE TRICKED HIS SUBSCRIBERS. + +'Tis indeed somewhat bold, and almost prodigious, for a single man to +undertake such a work; but 'tis too late to dissuade by demonstrating +the madness of the project. The subscribers' expectations have been +raised in proportion to what their pockets have been drained of.[503] +Pope has been concerned in jobs, and hired out his name to +booksellers.[504] + +NAMES BESTOWED ON MR POPE. + +An Ape.--Let us take the initial letter of his Christian name, and the +initial and final letters of his surname, viz., A P E, and they give you +the same idea of an ape as his face,[505] &c. + +An Ass.--It is my duty to pull off the lion's skin from this little +ass.[506] + +A Frog.--A squab short gentleman--a little creature that, like the frog +in the fable, swells, and is angry that it is not allowed to be as big +as an ox.[507] + +A Coward.--A lurking, way-laying coward.[508] + +A Knave.--He is one whom God and nature have marked for want of common +honesty.[509] + +A Fool.--Great fools will be christened by the names of great poets, and +Pope will be called Homer.[510] + +A Thing.--A little abject thing.[511] + + + + +INDEX + +OF + +PERSONS CELEBRATED IN THIS POEM. + + +THE FIRST NUMBER SHOWS THE BOOK; THE SECOND, THE VERSE. + +Ambrose Philips, i. 105; iii. 326. +Attila, iii. 92. +Alaric, iii. 91. +Alma Mater, iii. 388. +Annius, an antiquary, iv. 347. +Arnall, William, ii. 315. +Addison, ii. 124, 140. +Atterbury, iv. 246. + +Blackmore, Sir Richard, i. 104; ii. 268. +Bezaleel Morris, ii. 126; iii. 168. +Banks, i. 146. +Broome, ibid. +Bond, ii. 126. +Brown, iii. 28. +Bladen, iv. 560. +Budgel, Esq., ii. 337. +Bentley, Richard, iv. 201. +Bentley, Thomas, ii. 205. +Boyer, Abel, ii. 413. +Bland, a gazetteer, i. 231. +Breval, J. Durant, ii. 126, 238. +Benlowes, iii. 21. +Bavius, ibid. +Burmannus, iv. 237. +Benson, William, Esq., iii. 325; iv. 110. +Burgersdyck, iv. 198. +Boeotians, iii. 50. +Bruin and Bears, i, 101. +Bear and Fiddle, i. 224. +Burnet, Thomas, iii. 179. +Bacon, iii. 215. +Barrow, Dr, iv. 245. + +Cibber, Colley, Hero of the Poem, passim. +Cibber, sen., i. 31. +Cibber, jun., iii. 139, 326. +Caxton, William, i. 149. +Curll, Edm., i. 40; ii. 3, 58, 167, &c. +Cooke, Thomas, ii. 138. +Concanen, Matthew, ii. 299, +Centlivre, Susannah, ii. 411. +Caesar in Aegypt, i. 251. +Chi Ho-am-ti, Emperor of China, iii. 75. +Crousaz, iv. 198. +Codrus, ii. 144. +Congreve, ii. 124. +Chesterfield, iv. 43. + +Defoe, Daniel, i. 103; ii. 147. +Defoe, Norton, ii. 415. +De Lyra, or Harpsfield, i. 153. +Dennis, John, i. 106; ii. 239; iii. 173. +Dunton, John, ii. 144. +D'Urfey, iii. 146. +Dutchmen, ii. 405; iii. 51. +Doctors, at White's, i. 203. +Douglas, iv. 394. +Ducket, iii. 179. + +Eusden, Laurence, Poet Laureate, i. 104. +Evans, Dr, ii. 116 + +Flecknoe, Richard, ii. 2. +Faustus, Dr, iii. 233. +Fleetwood, iv. 326. +Freemasons, iv. 576. +French Cooks, iv. 553. + +Gay, ii. 127; iii. 330. +Gildon, Charles, i. 296. +Goode, Barn., iii. 153. +Goths, iii. 90. +Gazetteers, i. 215; ii. 314. +Gregorians and Gormogons, iv. 575. +Garth, ii. 140. +Genseric, iii. 92. +Gordon, Thomas, iv. 492. + +Holland, Philemon, i. 154. +Hearne, Thomas, iii. 185. +Horneck, Philip, iii. 152. +Haywood, Eliza, ii. 157, &c. +Howard, Edward, i. 297. +Henley, John, the Orator, ii. 2, 425; iii. 199, &c. +Huns, iii. 90. +Heywood, John, i. 98. +Harpsfield, i. 153. +Hays, iv. 560. +Heidegger, i. 290. + +John, King, i. 252. +James I., iv. 176. +Jacob, Giles, iii. 149. +Janssen, a gamester, iv. 326. +Jones, Inigo, iii. 328. +Johnston, iv. 112. + +Knight, Robert, iv. 561. +Kuster, iv. 237. +Kirkall, ii. 160. + +Lintot, Bernard, i. 40; ii. 53. +Laws, William, ii. 413. +Log, King, i. lin. ult. +Locke, iii. 215. + +More, James, ii. 50, &c. +Morris, Bezaleel, ii. 126; iii. 168. +Mist, Nathaniel, i. 208. +Milbourn, Luke, ii. 349. +Mahomet, iii. 97. +Mears, William, ii. 125; iii. 28. +Motteux, Peter, ii. 412. +Monks, iii. 52. +Mandevil, ii. 414. +Morgan, ibid. +Montalto, iv. 105. +Mummius, an antiquary, iv. 371. +Milton, iii. 216. +Murray, iv. 169. + +Newcastle, Duchess of, i. 141. +Nonjuror, i. 253. +Newton, iii. 216. + +Ogilby, John, i. 141, 328. +Oldmixon, John, ii. 283. +Ozell, John, i. 285. +Ostrogoths, iii. 93. +Omar, the Caliph, iii. 81. +Owls, i. 271, 290; iii. 54. +Owls, Athenian, iv. 362. +Osborne, bookseller, ii. 167. +Osborne, mother, ii. 312. + +Prynne, William, i. 103. +Philips, Ambrose, i. 105; iii. 326. +Paridel, iv. 341. +Prior, ii. 124-138. +Popple, iii. 151. +Pope, iii. 332. +Pulteney, iv. 170. + +Quarles, Francis, i. 140. +Querno, Camillo, ii. 15. + +Ralph, James, i. 216; iii. 165. +Roome, Edward, iii. 152. +Ripley, Thomas, iii. 327. +Ridpath, George, i. 208; ii. 149. +Roper, Abel, ii. 149. +Rich, iii. 261. + +Settle, Elkanah, i. 90, 146; iii. 37. +Smedley, Jonathan, ii. 291, &c. +Shadwell, Thomas, i. 240; iii. 22. +Scholiasts, iv. 231. +Silenus, iv. 492. +Sooterkins, i. 126. +Swift, i. 19; ii. 116, 138; iii. 331. +Shaftesbury, iv. 488. + +Tate, i. 105, 238. +Theobald, or Tibbald, i. 133, 286. +Tutchin, John, ii. 148. +Toland, John, ii. 399; iii. 212. +Tindal, Dr, ii. 399; iii. 212; iv. 492. +Taylor, John, the Water-Poet, iii. 19. +Thomas, Mrs, ii. 70. +Tonson, Jacob, i. 57; ii. 68. +Thorold, Sir George, i. 85. +Talbot, iv. 168. + +Vandals, iii. 86. +Visigoths, iii. 94. + +Walpole, late Sir Robert, praised by our author, ii. 314 +Withers, George, i. 296. +Wynkyn de Worde, i. 149 (or 140), +Ward, Edw. i. 233; ii. 34. +Webster, ii. 258. +Whitfield, ibid. +Warner, Thomas, ii. 125. +Wilkins, ibid. +Welsted, Leonard, ii. 207; iii. 170. +Woolston, Thomas, iii. 212. +Wormius, iii. 188. +Wasse, iv. 237. +Walker, Hat-bearer to Bentley. iv. 206, 273. +Wren, Sir C., iii. 329. +Wyndham, iv. 167. + +Young, Ed., ii. 116. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] 'Patricio:' Lord Godolphin. + +[2] 'Charron:' an imitator of Montaigne. + +[3] 'Perjured prince:' Louis XI. of France. See 'Quentin Durward'. + +[4] 'Godless regent:' Philip Duke of Orleans, Regent of France in the +minority of Louis XV., a believer in judicial astrology, though an +unbeliever in all religion. + +[5] 'Charles:' Charles V. + +[6] 'Philip:' Philip II. in the battle of Quintin. + +[7] 'Punk:' Cleopatra. + +[8] 'Wilmot:' Earl of Rochester. + +[9] 'Noble dame a whore:' the sister of Cato, and mother of Brutus. + +[10] 'Lanesborough:' an ancient nobleman, who continued this practice +long after his legs were disabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince +George of Denmark, he demanded an audience of the Queen, to advise her +to preserve her health and dispel her grief by dancing.--P. + +[11] 'Narcissa:' Mrs Oldfield, the actress. + +[12] 'Sappho:' Lady M. W. Montague. + +[13] 'Narcissa:' Duchess of Hamilton. + +[14] 'Philomede:' Henrietta, younger Duchess of Marlborough, to whom +Congreve left the greater part of his fortune. + +[15] 'Her Grace:' Duchess of Montague. + +[16] 'Atossa:' Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. + +[17] 'Chloe:' Mrs Howard, afterwards Countess of Suffolk. + +[18] 'Mahomet:' servant to the late king, said to be the son of a +Turkish pasha, whom he took at the siege of Buda, and constantly kept +about his person--P. + +[19] 'Parson Hale;' Dr Stephen Hale, not more estimable for his useful +discoveries as a natural philosopher, than for his exemplary life and +pastoral charity as a parish priest.--P. + +[20] 'Epistle III.:' this epistle was written after a violent outcry +against our author, on a supposition that he had ridiculed a worthy +nobleman merely for his wrong taste. He justified himself upon that +article in a letter to the Earl of Burlington; at the end of which are +these words: 'I have learnt that there are some who would rather be +wicked than ridiculous; and therefore it may be safer to attack vices +than follies. I will therefore leave my betters in the quiet possession +of their idols, their groves, and their high places; and change my +subject from their pride to their meanness, from their vanities to their +miseries; and as the only certain way to avoid misconstructions, to +lessen offence, and not to multiply ill-natured applications, I may +probably, in my next, make use of real names instead of fictitious +ones.'--P. + +[21] 'Ward:' John Ward of Hackney, Esq., member of Parliament, being +prosecuted by the Duchess of Buckingham, and convicted of forgery, was +first expelled the House, and then stood in the pillory on the 17th of +March 1727.--P. + +[22] 'Chartres:' see a former note. + +[23] 'The patriot's cloak:' this is a true story, which happened in the +reign of William III. to an unsuspected old patriot, who coming out at +the back-door from having been closeted by the king, where he had +received a large bag of guineas, the bursting of the bag discovered his +business there.--P. + +[24] 'Ship off senates:' alludes to several ministers, counsellors, and +patriots banished in our times to Siberia, and to that more glorious +fate of the Parliament of Paris, banished to Pontoise in the year +1720.--P. + +[25] 'Coals:' some misers of great wealth, proprietors of the +coal-mines, had entered at this time into an association to keep up +coals to an extravagant price, whereby the poor were reduced almost to +starve, till one of them, taking the advantage of underselling the rest, +defeated the design. One of these misers was worth ten thousand, another +seven thousand a-year.--P. + +[26] 'Colepepper:' Sir William Colepepper, Bart., a person of an ancient +family and ample fortune, without one other quality of a gentleman, who, +after ruining himself at the gaming table, passed the rest of his days +in sitting there to see the ruin of others; preferring to subsist upon +borrowing and begging, rather than to enter into any reputable method of +life, and refusing a post in the army which was offered him.--P. + +[27] 'Turner:' a miser of the day. + +[28] 'Hopkins:' a citizen whose rapacity obtained him the name of +Vulture Hopkins.--P. + +[29] 'Japhet:' Japhet Crook, alias Sir Peter Stranger, was punished with +the loss of those parts, for having forged a conveyance of an estate to +himself.--P. + +[30] 'Endow a college or a cat:' a famous Duchess of Richmond, in her +last will, left considerable legacies and annuities to her cats.--P. + +[31] 'Bond:' the director of a charitable corporation. + +[32] 'To live on venison:' in the extravagance and luxury of the +South-sea year, the price of a haunch of venison was from three to five +pounds.--P. + +[33] 'General excise:' many people, about the year 1733, had a conceit +that such a thing was intended, of which it is not improbable this lady +might have some intimation.--P. + +[34] 'Wise Peter:' an attorney who made a large fortune. + +[35] 'Rome's great Didius:' a Roman lawyer, so rich as to purchase the +Empire when it was set to sale upon the death of Pertinax.--P. + +[36] 'Blunt:' one of the first projectors of the South-sea scheme. + +[37] 'Oxford's better part:' Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford--P. + +[38] 'The Man of Ross:' the person here celebrated, who, with a small +estate, actually performed all these good works, and whose true name was +almost lost (partly by the title of the Man of Ross, given him by way of +eminence, and partly by being buried without so much as an inscription) +was called Mr John Kyrle. He effected many good works, partly by raising +contributions from other benevolent persons. He died in the year 1724, +aged 90, and lies interred in the chancel of the church of Ross, in +Herefordshire.--P. + +[39] 'Go search it there:' the parish register. + +[40] 'Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone:' the poet ridicules the +wretched taste of carving large periwigs on bustos, of which there are +several vile examples in the tombs at Westminster and elsewhere.--P. + +[41] 'Great Villiers lies:' this lord, yet more famous for his vices +than his misfortunes, after having been possessed of about L.50,000 +a-year, and passed through many of the highest posts in the kingdom, +died in the year 1687, in a remote inn in Yorkshire, reduced to the +utmost misery.--P. + +[42] 'Shrewsbury:' the Countess of Shrewsbury, a woman abandoned to +gallantries. The earl, her husband, was killed by the Duke of Buckingham +in a duel; and it has been said, that during the combat she held the +duke's horse in the habit of a page.--P. + +[43] 'Cutler:' a notorious miser. + +[44] 'Where London's column:' the monument, built in memory of the fire +of London, with an inscription, importing that city to have been burnt +by the Papists. + +[45] 'Topham:' a gentleman famous for a judicious collection of +drawings.--P. + +[46] 'Hearne:' the antiquarian. + +[47] 'Ripley:' this man was a carpenter, employed by a first minister, +who raised him to an architect, without any genius in the art; and after +some wretched proofs of his insufficiency in public buildings, made him +comptroller of the Board of Works.--P. + +[48] 'Bubo:' Bubb Doddington, who had just finished a mansion at +Eastbury. + +[49] 'Dr Clarke:' Dr S. Clarke's busto placed by the Queen in the +Hermitage, while the doctor duly frequented the court.--P. + +[50] 'Timon's villa:' Cannons, the estate of Lord Chandos. See Life. + +[51] 'Verrio or Laguerre:' Verrio (Antonio) painted many ceilings, &c., +at Windsor, Hampton Court, &c; and Laguerre at Blenheim Castle, and +other places.--P. + +[52] 'Who never mentions hell:' this is a fact; a reverend Dean, +preaching at court, threatened the sinner with punishment in 'a place +which he thought it not decent to name in so polite an assembly.'--P. + +[53] 'Sancho's dread doctor:' see 'Don Quixote,' chap, xlvii.--P. + +[54] This was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr Addison +intended to publish his book of medals; it was sometime before he was +Secretary of State; but not published till Mr Tickell's edition of his +works; at which time the verses on Mr Craggs, which conclude the poem, +were added, viz., in 1720.--P. + +[55] 'Vadius:' see his history, and that of his shield, in the 'Memoirs +of Scriblerus,' ch. ii. + +[56] Alemena, mother of Hercules, is after his death here recounting her +misfortunes to Iole, who replies by narrating the transformations of her +sister Dryope. + +[57] Such sons: Eteocles and Polynices. + +[58] The Marchantes Tale. Written at sixteen or seventeen years of age. + +[59] The first part of this prologue was written by Pope, the conclusion +by Mallet. + +[60] Shows a cap with ears. + +[61] Flings down the cap, and exit. + +[62] 'Basset-Table:' only this of all the Town Eclogues was Mr Pope's, +and is here printed from a copy corrected by his own hand. The humour of +it consists in this, that the one is in love with the game, and the +other with the sharper--W. + +[63] 'The Lady Frances Shirley:' a lady whose great merit Mr Pope took a +real pleasure in celebrating. + +[64] 'Bertrand's:' a famous toy-shop at Bath. + +[65] 'Fool or ass:' 'The Dunciad.'--P. + +[66] 'Flattery or fib:' the 'Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot.'--P. + +[67] 'Arms:' such toys being the usual presents from lovers to their +mistresses.--P. + +[68] 'Print:' when she delivers Aeneas a suit of heavenly armour.--P. + +[69] 'Truth nor lies:' if you have neither the courage to write satire, +nor the application to attempt an epic poem. He was then meditating on +such a work.--P. + +[70] 'Algerian grot:' alluding to Numa's projecting his system of +politics in this grot, assisted, as he gave out, by the goddess +Aegeria.--P. + +[71] 'What-d'ye-call-it:' a comedy by Gay. + +[72] 'Turk:' Ulrick, the Turk. + +[73] 'Pope:' the author. + +[74] 'Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin:' ladies of the Court of the +Princess Caroline. + +[75] 'Blunderland:' Ireland. + +[76] 'Meadows:' see verses to Mrs Howe. + +[77] 'God send the king safe landing:' this ballad was written anno +1717. + +[78] 'Philips:' Ambrose Philips. + +[79] 'Budgell:' Eustace Budgell. + +[80] 'Carey:' Henry Carey. + +[81] 'Mrs Pulteney:' the daughter of John Gumley of Isleworth, who +acquired his fortune by a glass manufactory. + +[82] 'Sandys:' George Sandy's, the old, and as yet unequalled, +translator of Ovid's Metamorphoses. + +[83] 'Jacob's:' old Jacob Tonson, the publisher of the Metamorphoses. + +[84] 'P----:' perhaps Pembroke. + +[85] 'Umbra:' intended, it is said, for Ambrose Philips. + +[86] 'Only Johnson:' Charles Johnson, a second-rate dramatist. + +[87] 'The Man Mountain:' this Ode, and the three following pieces, were +produced by Pope on reading 'Gulliver's Travels.' + +[88] 'Biddel:' name of a sea captain mentioned in Gulliver's Travels. + +[89] 'Pannel:' name of a sea captain mentioned in Gulliver's Travels. + +[90] 'B----:' Britain. + +[91] 'C----:' Cobham. + +[92] 'P----'s: Pulteney's. + +[93] 'S----:' Sandys. + +[94] 'S----:' Shippen. + +[95] 'C----:' Perhaps the Earl of Carlisle. + +[96] 'Ch---s W----:' Sir Charles Hanbury Williams. + +[97] 'Sir Har-y or Sir P----:' Sir Henry Oxenden or Sir Paul Methuen. + +[98] 'G---r, C---m, B---t:' Lords Gower, Cobham, and Bathurst. + +[99] 'C---d:' Chesterfield. + +[100] 'C---t:' Lord Carteret. + +[101] 'P----:' William Pulteney, created in 1742 Earl of Bath. + +[102] 'W----:' Walpole. + +[103] 'H----:' either Sir Robert's brother Horace, who had just quitted +his embassy at the Hague, or his son Horace, who was then on his +travels. + +[104] 'W----:' W. Winnington. + +[105] 'Young:' Sir William Young. + +[106] 'Bub:' Dodington. + +[107] 'H----:' probably Hare, Bishop of Chicester. + +[108] 'F----, H---y:' Fox and Henley. + +[109] 'H---n:' Hinton. + +[110] 'Ebor:' Blackburn, Archbishop of York, and Hoadley, Bishop of +Winchester. + +[111] 'O---w:' Onslow, Speaker of the House of Commons, and the Earl of +Delawar, Chairman of the Committees of the House of Lords. + +[112] 'N----:' Newcastle. + +[113] 'D----'s sager:' Dorset; perhaps the last word should be _sneer_. + +[114] 'M----'s:' Duke of Marlborough. + +[115] 'J----'s:' Jekyll. + +[116] 'H---k's:' Hardwick. + +[117] 'C----:' probably Sir John Cummins, Lord Chief-Justice of the +Common Pleas. + +[118] 'B----:' Britain. + +[119] 'S---w:' Earl of Scarborough. + +[120] 'M-m-t's:' Marchmont. + +[121] 'P---th:' Polwarth, son to Lord Marchmont. + +[122] 'W---m:' Wyndham. + +[123] 'Sl---s:' slaves. + +[124] 'Se---s:' senates. + +[125] 'Ad....:' administration. + +[126] King's. + +[127] 'Religion:' an allusion perhaps to Frederick Prince of Wales. + +[128] 'First Book of Horace:' attributed to Pope. + +[129] The person here meant was Dr Robert Friend, head master of +Westminster School. + +[130] The Misses Lisle. + +[131] There occurred here originally the following lax stanza:-- + +Can sins of moment claim the rod + Of everlasting fires? + +[132] And that offend great nature's God, Which nature's self +inspires.--See Boswell's 'Johnson.' + +[133] This gentleman was of Scotland, and bred at the university of +Utrecht, with the Earl of Mar. He served in Spain under Earl Rivers. +After the peace, he was made one of the Commissioners of the Customs in +Scotland, and then of Taxes in England, in which having shewn himself +for twenty years diligent, punctual, and incorruptible, though without +any other assistance of fortune, he was suddenly displaced by the +minister in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and died two months after, +in 1741.--P. + +[134] Giles Jacob's Lives of Poets, vol. ii. in his Life. + +[135] Dennis's Reflections on the Essay on Criticism. + +[136] Dunciad Dissected, p. 4. + +[137] Guardian, No. 40. + +[138] Jacob's Lives, &c. vol. ii. + +[139] Dunciad Dissected, p. 4. + +[140] Farmer P--- and his Son. + +[141] Dunciad Dissected. + +[142] Characters of the Times, p. 45. + +[143] Female Dunciad, p. ult. + +[144] Dunciad Dissected. + +[145] Roome, Paraphrase on the 4th of Genesis, printed 1729. + +[146] Character of Mr Pope and his Writings, in a Letter to a Friend, +printed for S. Popping, 1716, p. 10. Curll, in his Key to the Dunciad +(first edition, said to be printed for A. Dodd), in the 10th page, +declared Gildon to be author of that libel; though in the subsequent +editions of his Key he left out this assertion, and affirmed (in the +Curlliad, p. 4 and 8) that it was written by Dennis only. + +[147] Reflections, Critical and Satirical, on a Rhapsody called An Essay +on Criticism. Printed for Bernard Lintot, 8vo. + +[148] Essay on Criticism in prose, 8vo, 1728, by the author of the +Critical History of England. + +[149] Preface to his Poems, p.18, 53. + +[150] Spectator, No. 253. + +[151] Letter to B. B. at the end of the Remarks on Pope's Homer, 1717. + +[152] Printed 1728, p. 12. + +[153] Alma, canto 2. + +[154] In his Essays, vol. i., printed for E. Curll. + +[155] Censor, vol. ii. n. 33. + +[156] _Vide_ preface to Mr Tickel's translation of the first book of the +Iliad, 4to. Also _vide_ Life. + +[157] Daily Journal, March 18, 1728. + +[158] Ibid, April 3, 1728. + +[159] Verses to Mr Pope on his translation of Homer. + +[160] Poem prefixed to his works. + +[161] In his poems, printed for B. Lintot. + +[162] Universal Passion, Satire i. + +[163] In his Poems, and at the end of the Odyssey. + +[164] The names of two weekly papers. + +[165] Theobald, Letter in Mist's Journal, June 22, 1728. + +[166] Smedley, Preface to Gulliveriana, p. 14, 16. + +[167] Gulliveriana, p. 332. + +[168] Anno 1723. + +[169] Anno 1729. + +[170] Preface to Remarks on the Rape of the Lock, p. 12, and in the last +page of that treatise. + +[171] Pages 6, 7 of the Preface, by Concanen, to a book entitled, A +Collection of all the Letters, Essays, Verses, and Advertisements +occasioned by Pope and Swift's Miscellanies. Printed for A. Moore, 8vo, +1712. + +[172] Key to the Dunciad, third edition, p. 18. + +[173] A list of persons, &c., at the end of the forementioned Collection +of all the Letters, Essays, &c. + +[174] Introduction to his Shakspeare Restored, in 4to, p. 3. + +[175] Commentary on the Duke of Buckingham's Essay, 8vo, 1721, p. 97, +98. + +[176] In his prose Essay on Criticism. + +[177] Printed by J. Roberts, 1742, p. 11. + +[178] Battle of Poets, folio, p. 15. + +[179] Printed under the title of the Progress of Dulness, duodecimo, +1728. + +[180] Cibber's Letter to Mr Pope, p. 9, 12. + +[181] In a letter under his hand, dated March 12, 1733. + +[182] Dennis's Preface to his Reflections on the Essay on Criticism. + +[183] Preface to his Remarks on Homer. + +[184] Remarks on Homer, p. 8, 9. + +[185] Ibid, p. 8. + +[186] Character of Mr Pope, p. 7. + +[187] Ibid, p. G. + +[188] Gulliver, p. 886. + +[189] Cibber's Letter to Mr. Pope, p. 19. + +[190] Burnet Homerides, p. 1 of his Translation of the Iliad. + +[191] The London and Mist's Journals, on his undertaking of the Odyssey. + +[192] Vide Bossu, Du Poeme Epique, ch. viii. + +[193] Bossu, chap. vii. + +[194] Book i. ver. 32, &c. + +[195] Ver. 45 to 54. + +[196] Ver. 57 to 77. + +[197] Ver. 80. + +[198] Ibid, chap, vii., viii. + +[199] Bossu, chap. viii. Vide Aristot. Poetic, chap. ix. + +[200] Cibber's Letter to Mr Pope, pp. 9, 12, 41. + +[201] See his Essays. + +[202] Si nil Heros Poetique doit etre un honnete homme. Bossu, du Poeme +Epique, lib. v. ch. 5. + +[203] Dedication to the Life of C. C. + +[204] Life, p. 2, 8vo edition. + +[205] Life, ibid. + +[206] Life, p. 23, 8vo. + +[207] Alluding to these lines in the Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot: + +'And has not Colley still his lord and whore, +His butchers, Henley, his freemasons, Moore?' + +[208] Letter to Mr Pope, p. 46. + +[209] P. 31. + +[210] Life, p. 23, 24. + +[211] Letter, p. 8. + +[212] Letter, p. 53. + +[213] Letter, p. 1. + +[214] Don Quixote, Part ii. book ii. ch. 22. + +[215] See Life, p. 148. + +[216] Life, p. 149. + +[217] p. 424. + +[218] p. 366. + +[219] p. 457. + +[220] p. 18. + +[221] p. 425. + +[222] pp. 436, 437. + +[223] p. 52. + +[224] p. 47. + +[225] p. 57. + +[226] pp. 58, 59. + +[227] A statuary. + +[228] Life, p. 6. + +[229] p. 424. + +[230] p. 19. + +[231] Life, p. 17. + +[232] Ibid. p. 243, 8vo edition. + +[233] Ovid, of the serpent biting at Orpheus's head. + +[234] 'The Dunciad:' _sic_ MS. It may well be disputed whether this be a +right reading. Ought it not rather to be spelled Dunceiad, as the +etymology evidently demands? Dunce with an _e_, therefore Dunceiad with +an _e_? That accurate and punctual man of letters, the restorer of +Shakespeare, constantly observes the preservation of this very letter +_e_, in spelling the name of his beloved author, and not like his common +careless editors, with the omission of one, nay, sometimes of two _e's_ +(as Shakspear), which is utterly unpardonable. 'Nor is the neglect of a +single letter so trivial as to some it may appear; the alteration +whereof in a learned language is an achievement that brings honour to +the critic who advances it; and Dr Bentley will be remembered to +posterity for his performances of this sort, as long as the world shall +have any esteem for the remains of Menander and Philemon.'--_Theobald_. + +This is surely a slip in the learned author of the foregoing note, there +having been since produced by an accurate antiquary, an autograph of +Shakspeare himself, whereby it appears that he spelled his own name +without the first _e_. And upon this authority it was, that those most +critical curators of his monument in Westminster Abbey erased the former +wrong reading, and restored the true spelling on a new piece of old +Egyptian granite. Nor for this only do they deserve our thanks, but for +exhibiting on the same monument the first specimen of an edition of an +author in marble; where (as may be seen on comparing the tomb with the +book), in the space of five lines, two words and a whole verse are +changed, and it is to be hoped will there stand, and outlast whatever +hath been hitherto done in paper; as for the future, our learned sister +University (the other eye of England) is taking care to perpetuate a +total new Shakspeare, at the Clarendon press.--_Bentl_. + +It is to be noted, that this great critic also has omitted one +circumstance: which is, that the inscription with the name of Shakspeare +was intended to be placed on the marble scroll to which he points with +his hand; instead of which it is now placed behind his back, and that +specimen of an edition is put on the scroll, which indeed Shakspeare +hath great reason to point at.--_Anon_. + +Though I have as just a value for the letter _e_ as any grammarian +living, and the same affection for the name of this poem as any critic +for that of his author, yet cannot it induce me to agree with those who +would add yet another _e_ to it, and call it the Dunceiade; which being +a French and foreign termination, is no way proper to a word entirely +English and vernacular. One _e_, therefore, in this case is right, and +two _e's_ wrong. Yet, upon the whole, I shall follow the manuscript, and +print it without any _e_ at all; moved thereto by authority (at all +times, with critics, equal, if not superior to reason). In which method +of proceeding, I can never enough praise my good friend, the exact Mr +Thomas Hearne; who, if any word occur which to him and all mankind is +evidently wrong, yet keeps he it in the text with due reverence, and +only remarks in the margin _sic_ MS. In like manner we shall not amend +this error in the title itself, but only note it _obiter_, to evince to +the learned that it was not our fault, nor any effect of our ignorance +or inattention.--_Scriblerus_. + +This poem was written in the year 1726. In the next year, an imperfect +edition was published at Dublin, and reprinted at London in twelves; +another at Dublin, and another at London in octavo; and three others in +twelves the same year. But there was no perfect edition before that of +London in quarto; which was attended with notes. We are willing to +acquaint posterity, that this poem was presented to King George the +Second and his queen by the hands of Sir Robert Walpole, on the 12th of +March 1728-9.--_Schol. Vet_. + +It was expressly confessed in the preface to the first edition, that +this poem was not published by the author himself. It was printed +originally in a foreign country. And what foreign country? Why, one +notorious for blunders; where finding blanks only instead of proper +names, these blunderers filled them up at their pleasure. + +The very hero of the poem hath been mistaken to this hour; so that we +are obliged to open our notes with a discovery who he really was. We +learn from the former editor, that this piece was presented by the hands +of Sir Robert Walpole to King George II. Now the author directly tells +us, his hero is the man + + 'who brings +The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings.' + +And it is notorious who was the person on whom this prince conferred the +honour of the laurel. + +It appears as plainly from the apostrophe to the great in the third +verse, that Tibbald could not be the person, who was never an author in +fashion, or caressed by the great; whereas this single characteristic is +sufficient to point out the true hero, who, above all other poets of his +time, was the peculiar delight and chosen companion of the nobility of +England, and wrote, as he himself tells us, certain of his works at the +earnest desire of persons of quality. + +Lastly, the sixth verse affords full proof; this poet being the only one +who was universally known to have had a son so exactly like him, in his +poetical, theatrical, political, and moral capacities, that it could +justly be said of him, + +'Still Dunce the second reign'd like Dunce the first.'--_Bentl_. + +[235] 'Her son who brings,' &c. Wonderful is the stupidity of all the +former critics and commentators on this work! It breaks forth at the +very first line. The author of the critique prefixed to Sawney, a poem, +p. 5, hath been so dull as to explain 'the man who brings,' &c., not of +the hero of the piece, but of our poet himself, as if he vaunted that +kings were to be his readers--an honour which though this poem hath had, +yet knoweth he how to receive it with more modesty. + +We remit this ignorant to the first lines of the Aeneid, assuring him +that Virgil there speaketh not of himself but of Aeneas: + +'Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris +Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit +Littora: multum ille et terris jactatus et alto,' &c. + +I cite the whole three verses, that I may by the way offer a conjectural +emendation, purely my own, upon each: First, _oris_ should be read +_aris_, it being, as we see, Aen. ii. 513, from the altar of Jupiter +Hercaeus that Aeneas fled as soon as he saw Priam slain. In the second +line I would _flatu_ for _fato_, since it is most clear it was by winds +that he arrived at the shore of Italy. _Jactatus_, in the third, is +surely as improperly applied to _terris_, as proper to _alto_. To say a +man is tossed on land, is much at one with saying, he walks at sea. +_Risum teneatis, amici_? Correct it, as I doubt not it ought to be, +_vexatus_.--_Scriblerus_. + +[236] 'The Smithfield Muses.' Smithfield was the place where Bartholomew +Fair was kept, whose shows, machines, and dramatical entertainments, +formerly agreeable only to the taste of the rabble, were, by the hero of +this poem and others of equal genius, brought to the theatres of Covent +Garden, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and the Haymarket, to be the reigning +pleasures of the court and town. This happened in the reigns of King +George I. and II. See Book iii. + +[237] 'By Dulness, Jove, and Fate:' _i.e._, by their judgments, their +interests, and their inclinations.--W. + +[238] 'Say how the goddess,' &c. The poet ventureth to sing the action +of the goddess; but the passion she impresseth on her illustrious +votaries, he thinketh can be only told by themselves.--_Scribl. W_. + +[239] 'Daughter of Chaos,' &c. The beauty of this whole allegory being +purely of the poetical kind, we think it not our proper business, as a +scholiast, to meddle with it, but leave it (as we shall in general all +such) to the reader, remarking only that Chaos (according to Hesiod's +[Greek: Theogonia]), was the progenitor of all the gods.--_Scriblerus_. + +[240] 'Laborious, heavy, busy, bold,' &c. I wonder the learned +Scriblerus has omitted to advertise the reader, at the opening of this +poem, that Dulness here is not to be taken contractedly for mere +stupidity, but in the enlarged sense of the word, for all slowness of +apprehension, shortness of sight, or imperfect sense of things. It +includes (as we see by the poet's own words) labour, industry, and some +degree of activity and boldness--a ruling principle not inert, but +turning topsy-turvy the understanding, and inducing an anarchy or +confused state of mind. This remark ought to be carried along with the +reader throughout the work; and without this caution he will be apt to +mistake the importance of many of the characters, as well as of the +design of the poet. Hence it is, that some have complained he chooses +too mean a subject, and imagined he employs himself like Domitian, in +killing flies; whereas those who have the true key will find he sports +with nobler quarry, and embraces a larger compass; or (as one saith, on +a like occasion)-- + +'Will see his work, like Jacob's ladder, rise, +Its foot in dirt, its head amid the skies.'--_Bentl_. + +[241] 'Still her old empire to restore.' This restoration makes the +completion of the poem. _Vide_ Book iv.--P. + +[242] 'Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!' the several names and +characters he assumed in his ludicrous, his splenetic, or his +party-writings; which take in all his works.--P. + +[243] 'Or praise the court, or magnify mankind:' _ironice_, alluding to +Gulliver's representations of both. The next line relates to the papers +of the Drapier against the currency of Wood's copper coin in Ireland, +which, upon the great discontent of the people, his Majesty was +graciously pleased to recall. + +[244] 'By his famed father's hand:' Mr Caius-Gabriel Cibber, father of +the poet laureate. The two statues of the lunatics over the gates of +Bedlam Hospital were done by him, and (as the son justly says of them) +are no ill monuments of his fame as an artist. + +[245] 'Bag-fair' is a place near the Tower of London, where old clothes +and frippery are sold--P. + +[246] 'A yawning ruin hangs and nods in air:'--Here in one bed two +shivering sisters lie, The cave of Poverty and Poetry. + +[247] 'Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post:' two booksellers, +of whom, see Book ii. The former was fined by the Court of King's Bench +for publishing obscene books; the latter usually adorned his shop with +titles in red letters.--P. + +[248] 'Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines:' it is an ancient English +custom for the malefactors to sing a psalm at their execution at Tyburn, +and no less customary to print elegies on their deaths, at the same +time, or before.--P. + +[249] 'Sepulchral lies:' is a just satire on the flatteries and +falsehoods admitted to be inscribed on the walls of churches, in +epitaphs, which occasioned the following epigram:-- + +'Friend! in your epitaphs, I'm grieved, +So very much is said: +One-half will never be believed, +The other never read.'--W. + +[250] 'New-year odes:' made by the poet laureate for the time being, to +be sung at Court on every New-Year's Day, the words of which are happily +drowned in the voices and instruments.--P. + +[251] 'Jacob:' Tonson, the well-known bookseller. + +[252] 'How farce and epic--how Time himself,' allude to the +transgressions of the unities in the plays of such poets. For the +miracles wrought upon time and place, and the mixture of tragedy and +comedy, farce and epic, see Pluto and Proserpine, Penelope, &c., if yet +extant.--P. + +[253] ''Twas on the day, when Thorold rich and grave, like Cimon, +triumph'd:' viz., a Lord Mayor's day; his name the author had left in +blanks, but most certainly could never be that which the editor foisted +in formerly, and which no way agrees with the chronology of the +poem.--_Bentl_. The procession of a lord mayor is made partly by land, +and partly by water. Cimon, the famous Athenian general, obtained a +victory by sea, and another by land, on the same day, over the Persians +and Barbarians.--P. + +[254] 'Glad chains:' The ignorance of these moderns! This was altered in +one edition to gold chains, showing more regard to the metal of which +the chains of aldermen are made than to the beauty of the Latinism and +Graecism--nay, of figurative speech itself: _Loetas segetes_, glad, for +making glad, &c.--P. + +[255] 'But lived, in Settle's numbers, one day more:' a beautiful manner +of speaking, usual with poets in praise of poetry, in which kind nothing +is finer than those lines of Mr Addison:-- + +'Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng, +I look for streams immortalised in song, +That lost in silence and oblivion lie, +Dumb are their fountains, and their channels dry; +Yet run for over by the Muses' skill, +And in the smooth description murmur still.--P. + +Settle was poet to the city of London. His office was to compose yearly +panegyrics upon the lord mayors, and verses to be spoken in the +pageants. But that part of the shows being at length frugally abolished, +the employment of city-poet ceased, so that upon Settle's demise there +was no successor to that place.--P. + +[256] John Heywood, whose interludes were printed in the time of Henry +VIII.--P. + +[257] 'Daniel Defoe,' a man in worth and original genius incomparably +superior to his defamer. + +[258] 'And Eusden eke out,' &c.: Laurence Eusden, poet laureate. Mr +Jacob gives a catalogue of some few only of his works, which were very +numerous. Mr Cook, in his Battle of Poets, saith of him-- + +'Eusden, a laurell'd bard, by fortune raised, +By very few was read, by fewer praised.'--P. + +[259] Nahum Tate was poet laureate, a cold writer, of no invention; but +sometimes translated tolerably when befriended by Mr Dryden. In his +second part of Absalom and Achitophel are above two hundred admirable +lines together of that great hand, which strongly shine through the +insipidity of the rest. Something parallel may be observed of another +author here mentioned.--P. + +[260] 'Dennis rage:' Mr John Dennis was the son of a sadler in London, +born in 1657. He paid court to Mr Dryden; and having obtained some +correspondence with Mr Wycherly and Mr Congreve, he immediately obliged +the public with their letters. He made himself known to the Government +by many admirable schemes and projects, which the ministry, for reasons +best known to themselves, constantly kept private.--P. + +[261] 'Shame to Fortune:' because she usually shows favour to persons of +this character, who have a threefold pretence to it. + +[262] 'Poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes:' a great number of them taken +out to patch up his plays.--P. + +[263] 'Tibbald:' this Tibbald, or Theobald, published an edition of +Shakspeare, of which he was so proud himself as to say, in one of Mist's +journals, June 8, 'That to expose any errors in it was impracticable.' +And in another, April 27, 'That whatever care might for the future be +taken by any other editor, he would still give above five hundred +emendations, that shall escape them all.'--P. + +[264] 'Wish'd he had blotted:' it was a ridiculous praise which the +players gave to Shakspeare, 'that he never blotted a line.' Ben Jonson +honestly wished he had blotted a thousand; and Shakspeare would +certainly have wished the same, if he had lived to see those alterations +in his works, which, not the actors only (and especially the daring hero +of this poem) have made on the stage, but the presumptuous critics of +our days in their editions--P. + +[265] 'Ogilby the great:' 'John Ogilby was one who, from a late +initiation into literature, made such a progress as might well style him +the prodigy of his time! sending into the world so many large volumes. +His translations of Homer and Virgil done to the life, and with such +excellent sculptures. And (what added great grace to his works) he +printed them all on special good paper, and in a very good +letter.'--Winstanly, Lives of Poets.--P. + +[266] 'There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines complete:' Langbaine +reckons up eight folios of the Duchess of Newcastle's works, which were +usually adorned with gilded covers, and had her coat of arms upon them. + +[267] 'Worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome:' the poet has mentioned these +three authors in particular, as they are parallel to our hero in his +three capacities--1. Settle was his brother laureate--only, indeed, upon +half-pay, for the city instead of the court; but equally famous for +unintelligible flights in his poems on public occasions, such as shows, +birth-days, &c.; 2. Banks was his rival in tragedy (though more +successful) in one of his tragedies, the Earl of Essex, which is yet +alive: Anna Boleyn, the Queen of Scots, and Cyrus the Great, are dead +and gone. These he dressed in a sort of beggar's velvet, or a happy +mixture of the thick fustian and thin prosaic; exactly imitated in +Perolla and Isidora, Caesar in Egypt, and the Heroic Daughter; 3. Broome +was a serving-man of Ben Jonson, who once picked up a comedy from his +betters, or from some cast scenes of his master, not entirely +contemptible.--P. + +[268] 'Caxton:' a printer in the time of Edward IV., Richard III., and +Henry VII.; Wynkyn de Worde, his successor, in that of Henry VII. and +VIII.--P. + +[269] 'Nich. de Lyra:' or Harpsfield, a very voluminous commentator, +whose works, in five vast folios, were printed in 1472.--P. + +[270] 'Philemon Holland:' doctor in physic. 'He translated so many +books, that a man would think he had done nothing else; insomuch that he +might be called translator general of his age. The books alone of his +turning into English are sufficient to make a country gentleman a +complete library.'--Winstanly.--P. + +[271] 'E'er since Sir Fopling's periwig:' the first visible cause of the +passion of the town for our hero, was a fair flaxen full-bottomed +periwig, which, he tells us, he wore in his first play of the Fool in +Fashion. It attracted, in a particular manner, the friendship of Col. +Brett, who wanted to purchase it.--P. + +[272] 'Ridpath--Mist:' George Ridpath, author of a Whig paper, called +the Flying Post; Nathanael Mist, of a famous Tory journal.--P. + +[273] 'Rome's ancient geese:' relates to the well-known story of the +geese that saved the Capitol; of which Virgil, Aen. VIII. + +'Atque hic auratis volitans argenteus anser +Porticibus, Gallos in limine adesse canebat.' + +A passage I have always suspected. Who sees not the antithesis of +_auratis_ and _argenteus_ to be unworthy the Virgilian majesty? And what +absurdity to say a goose sings? _canebat_. Virgil gives a contrary +character of the voice of this silly bird, in Ecl. ix. + +... 'argutos interstrepere anser olores.' + +Read it, therefore, _adesse strepebat_. And why _auratis porticibus_? +does not the very verse preceding this inform us, + +'Romuleoque recens horrebat regia culmo.' + +Is this thatch in one line, and gold in another, consistent? I scruple +not (_repugnantibas omnibus manuscriptis_) to correct it _auritis_. +Horace uses the same epithet in the same sense.--P. + +[274] 'Bear and Fiddle:' see 'Butler's Hudibras.' + +[275] 'Gratis-given Bland--Sent with a pass.' It was a practice so to +give the Daily Gazetteer and ministerial pamphlets (in which this Bland, +Provost of Eton, was a writer), and to send them post-free to all the +towns in the kingdom.--P. + +[276] 'With Ward, to ape-and-monkey climes.' Edward Ward, a very +voluminous poet in Hudibrastic verse, but best known by the London Spy, +in prose. He has of late years kept a public-house in the City (but in a +genteel way), and with his wit, humour, and good liquor (ale) afforded +his guests a pleasurable entertainment, especially those of the +High-Church party. Jacob, Lives of Poets, vol. ii., p. 225. Great number +of his works were yearly sold into the plantations. Ward, in a book +called Apollo's Maggot, declared this account to be a great falsity, +protesting that his public-house was not in the City, but in +Moorfields.--P. + +[277] 'Tate, Shadwell:' two of his predecessors in the Laurel.--P. + +[278] 'The dear Nonjuror, Moliere's old stubble:' a comedy threshed out +of Moliere's Tartuffe, and so much the translator's favourite, that he +assures us all our author's dislike to it could only arise from +disaffection to the government: + +'Qui meprise Cotin, n'estime point son roi, +Et n'a, selon Cotin, ni Dieu, ni foi, ni loi.'--Boil. + +He assures us, that 'when he had the honour to kiss his Majesty's hand +upon presenting his dedication of it, he was graciously pleased, out of +his royal bounty, to order him two hundred pounds for it. And this he +doubts not grieved Mr P.'--P. + +[279] 'Thule:' An unfinished poem of that name, of which one sheet was +printed many years ago, by Amb. Philips, a northern author. It is a +usual method of putting out a fire to cast wet sheets upon it. Some +critics have been of opinion that this sheet was of the nature of the +asbestos, which cannot be consumed by fire: but I rather think it an +allegorical allusion to the coldness and heaviness of the writing.--P. + +[280] 'Tibbald:' Lewis Tibbald (as pronounced) or Theobald (as written) +was bred an attorney, and son to an attorney (says Mr Jacob) of +Sittenburn, in Kent. He was author of some forgotten plays, +translations, and other pieces. He was concerned in a paper called the +Censor, and a Translation of Ovid. 'There is a notorious idiot, one +hight Whachum, who, from an under-spur-leather to the law, is become an +under-strapper to the play-house, who hath lately burlesqued the +Metamorphoses of Ovid by a vile translation, &c. This fellow is +concerned in an impertinent paper called the Censor.' Dennis, Rem. on +Pope's Hom. pp. 9, 10.--P. + +[281] 'Ozell:' 'Mr John Ozell (if we credit Mr Jacob) did go to school +in Leicestershire, where somebody left him something to live on, when he +shall retire from business. He was designed to be sent to Cambridge, in +order for priesthood; but he chose rather to be placed in an office of +accounts in the city, being qualified for the same by his skill in +arithmetic, and writing the necessary hands. He has obliged the world +with many translations of French plays.' Jacob, Lives of Dram. Poets, p. +198.--P. Mr Jacob's character of Mr Ozell seems vastly short of his +merits, and he ought to have further justice done him, having since +fully confuted all sarcasms on his learning and genius, by an +advertisement of September 20, 1729, in a paper called the Weekly +Medley, &c. 'As to my learning, this envious wretch knew, and everybody +knows, that the whole bench of bishops, not long ago, were pleased to +give me a purse of guineas, for discovering the erroneous translations +of the Common Prayer in Portuguese, Spanish, French, Italian, &c. As for +my genius, let Mr Cleland show better verses in all Pope's works than +Ozell's version of Boileau's Lutrin, which the late Lord Halifax was so +pleased with, that he complimented him with leave to dedicate it to him, +&c. Let him show better and truer poetry in the Rape of the Lock than in +Ozell's Rape of the Bucket (La Secchia Rapita). And Mr Toland and Mr +Gildon publicly declared Ozell's translation of Homer to be, as it was +prior, so likewise superior to Pope's. Surely, surely, every man is free +to deserve well of his country.'--John Ozell. We cannot but subscribe to +such reverend testimonies as those of the bench of bishops, Mr Toland, +and Mr Gildon.--P. + +[282] 'A heidegger:' a strange bird from Switzerland, and not (as some +have supposed) the name of an eminent person who was a man of parts, +and, as was said of Petronius, _arbiter elegantiarum_.--P. + +[283] 'Gildon:' Charles Gildon, a writer of criticisms and libels of the +last age, bred at St Omer's with the Jesuits; but renouncing Popery, he +published Blount's books against the divinity of Christ, the Oracles of +Reason, &c. He signalised himself as a critic, having written some very +bad plays, abused Mr Pope very scandalously in an anonymous pamphlet of +the Life of Mr Wycherly, printed by Curll; in another, called the New +Rehearsal, printed in 1714; in a third, entitled the Complete Art of +English Poetry, in two volumes, and others.--P. + +[284] 'Howard:' Hon. Edward Howard, author of the British Princes, and a +great number of wonderful pieces, celebrated by the late Earls of Dorset +and Rochester, Duke of Buckingham, Mr Waller, &c.--P. + +[285] 'Under Archer's wing--Gaming:' when the statute against gaming was +drawn up, it was represented that the king, by ancient custom, plays at +hazard one night in the year; and therefore a clause was inserted, with +an exception as to that particular. Under this pretence, the +groom-porter had a room appropriated to gaming all the summer the court +was at Kensington, which his Majesty, accidentally being acquainted of, +with a just indignation prohibited. It is reported the same practice is +yet continued wherever the court resides, and the hazard table there +open to all the professed gamesters in town. + +'Greatest and justest sovereign! know ye this? +Alas! no more, than Thames' calm head can know +Whose meads his arms drown, or whose corn o'erflow.' + +DONNE to QUEEN ELIZ.--P. + +[286] 'Chapel-royal:' the voices and instruments used in the service of +the chapel-royal being also employed in the performance of the Birth-day +and New-year Odes.--_P_. + +[287] 'But pious Needham:' a matron of great and peculiar fame, and very +religious in her way.--P. + +[288] 'Back to the Devil:' the Devil Tavern in Fleet Street, where these +odes are usually rehearsed before they are performed at court.--W. + +[289] 'Ogilby--God save King Log:' See Ogilby's Aesop's Fables, where, +in the story of the Frogs and their King, this excellent hemistich is to +be found.--P. + +[290] Sir George Thorald, Lord Mayor of London in the year 1720. + +[291] 'A little Ajax:' in duodecimo, translated from Sophocles by +Tibhald. + +[292] 'Henley's gilt tub:' the pulpit of a dissenter is usually called a +tub; but that of Mr Orator Henley was covered with velvet, and adorned +with gold. He had also a fair altar, and over it is this extraordinary +inscription, 'The Primitive Eucharist.' See the history of this person, +book iii. + +[293] 'Flecknoe's Irish throne:' Richard Flecknoe was an Irish priest, +but had laid aside (as himself expressed it) the mechanic part of +priesthood. He printed some plays, poems, letters, and travels.--P. + +[294] 'Or that whereon her Curlls the public pours:' Edmund Curll stood +in the pillory at Charing Cross, in March 1727-8. 'This,' saith Edmund +Curll, 'is a false assertion. I had, indeed, the corporal punishment of +what the gentlemen of the long robe are pleased jocosely to call +mounting the rostrum for one hour; but that scene of action was not in +the month of March, but in February' (Curliad, 12mo, p. 19). And of the +history of his being tossed in a blanket, he saith--'Here, Scriblerus! +thou leeseth in what thou assertest concerning the blanket--it was not a +blanket, but a rug,' p. 25. Much in the same manner Mr Cibber +remonstrated, that his brothers at Bedlam, mentioned book i., were not +brazen, but blocks; yet our author let it pass unaltered, as a trifle +that no way altered the relationship.--P. + +[295] 'Rome in her Capitol saw Querno sit:' Camillo Querno was of +Apulia, who, hearing the great encouragement which Leo X. gave to poets, +travelled to Rome with a harp in his hand, and sung to it twenty +thousand verses of a poem called Alexias. He was introduced as a buffoon +to Leo, and promoted to the honour of the laurel--a jest which the court +of Rome and the pope himself entered into so far as to cause him to ride +on an elephant to the Capitol, and to hold a solemn festival on his +coronation, at which it is recorded the poet himself was so transported +as to weep for joy.[296] He was ever after a constant frequenter of the +pope's table, drank abundantly, and poured forth verses without number. +Paulus Jovius, Elog. Vir. doct. chap. lxxxii. Some idea of his poetry is +given by Fam. Strada, in his Prolusions.--P. + +[296] See Life of C.C. chap. vi. p. 149. + +[297] 'Never was dash'd out, at one lucky hit:' our author here seems +willing to give some account of the possibility of Dulness making a wit +(which could be done no other way than by chance). The fiction is the +more reconciled to probability, by the known story of Apelles, who being +at a loss to express the foam of Alexander's horse, dashed his pencil in +despair at the picture, and happened to do it by that fortunate +stroke.--P. + +[298] 'And call'd the phantom More:' Curll, in his Key to the Dunciad, +affirmed this to be James Moore Smith, Esq., and it is probable +(considering what is said of him in the Testimonies) that some might +fancy our author obliged to represent this gentleman as a plagiary, or +to pass for one himself. His case, indeed, was like that of a man I have +heard of, who, as he was sitting in company, perceived his next +neighbour had stolen his handkerchief. 'Sir,' said the thief, finding +himself detected, 'do not expose me, I did it for mere want; be so good +but to take it privately out of my pocket again, and say nothing.' The +honest man did so, but the other cried out, 'See, gentlemen, what a +thief we have among us! look, he is stealing my handkerchief!'--P.-- +Moore was a notorious plagiarist.--It appears from hence, that this is +not the name of a real person, but fictitious. More, from [Greek: +moros], stultus, [Greek: moria], stultitia, to represent the folly of a +plagiary. Thus Erasmus, _Admonuit me Mori cognomen tibi, quod tam ad +Moriae vocabulum accedit quam es ipse a re alienus_. Dedication of +Moriae Encomium to Sir Tho. More; the farewell of which may be our +author's to his plagiary, _Vale, More! et moriam tuam gnaviter defende_. +Adieu, More! and be sure strongly to defend thy own folly! Scribl.--P. + +[299] 'But lofty Lintot:' we enter here upon the episode of the +booksellers, persons whose names being more known and famous in the +learned world than those of the authors in this poem, do therefore need +less explanation. The action of Mr Lintot here imitates that of Dares in +Virgil, rising just in this manner to lay hold on a bull. This eminent +bookseller printed the Rival Modes before-mentioned.--P. + +[300] 'Stood dauntless Curll:' we come now to a character of much +respect, that of Mr Edmund Curll. As a plain repetition of great actions +is the best praise of them, we shall only say of this eminent man, that +he carried the trade many lengths beyond what it ever before had arrived +at; and that he was the envy and admiration of all his profession. He +possessed himself of a command over all authors whatever; he caused them +to write what he pleased; they could not call their very names their +own. He was not only famous among these; he was taken notice of by the +state, the church, and the law, and received particular marks of +distinction from each. It will be owned that he is here introduced with +all possible dignity: he speaks like the intrepid Diomede; he runs like +the swift-footed Achilles; if he falls, 'tis like the beloved Nisus; and +(what Homer makes to be the chief of all praises) he is favoured of the +gods; he says but three words, and his prayer is heard; a goddess +conveys it to the seat of Jupiter: though he loses the prize, he gains +the victory; the great mother herself comforts him, she inspires him +with expedients, she honours him with an immortal present (such as +Achilles receives from Thetis, and Aeneas from Venus) at once +instructive and prophetical: after this he is unrivalled and triumphant. +The tribute our author here pays him is a grateful return for several +unmerited obligations. Many weighty animadversions on the public +affairs, and many excellent and diverting pieces on private persons, has +he given to his name. If ever he owed two verses to any other, he owed +Mr Curll some thousands. He was every day extending his fame, and +enlarging his writings: witness innumerable instances; but it shall +suffice only to mention the Court Poems, which he meant to publish as +the work of the true writer, a lady of quality; but being first +threatened, and afterwards punished for it by Mr Pope, he generously +transferred it from her to him, and ever since printed it in his name. +The single time that ever he spoke to C. was on that affair, and to that +happy incident he owed all the favours since received from him: so true +is the saying of Dr Sydenham, 'that any one shall be, at some time or +other, the better or the worse for having but seen or spoken to a good +or bad man.'--P. + +[301] 'Left-legged Jacob:' Jacob Tonson. + +[302] 'Curll's Corinna:' this name, it seems, was taken by one Mrs +T----, who procured some private letters of Mr Pope, while almost a boy, +to Mr Cromwell, and sold them without the consent of either of those +gentleman to Curll, who printed them in 12mo, 1727. He discovered her to +be the publisher, in his Key, p. 11. We only take this opportunity of +mentioning the manner in which those letters got abroad, which the +author was ashamed of as very trivial things, full not only of levities, +but of wrong judgments of men and books, and only excusable from the +youth and inexperience of the writer.--P.--See Life. + +[303] 'Down with the Bible, up with the Pope's Arms:' the Bible, Curll's +sign; the Cross-keys, Lintot's. + +[304] 'Seas:' see Lucian's Icaro-Menippus, where this fiction is more +extended.--P. + +[305] 'Evans, Young, and Swift:' some of those persons whose writings, +epigrams, or jests he had owned.--P. + +[306] 'Bezaleel:' Bezaleel Morris was author of some satires on the +translators of Homer, with many other things printed in newspapers. +'Bond wrote a satire against Mr P----. Capt. Breval was author of the +Confederates, an ingenious dramatic performance to expose Mr P., Mr Gay, +Dr Arb., and some ladies of quality,' says Curll, Key, p. 11.--P. + +[307] 'Joseph:' Joseph Gay, a fictitious name put by Curll before +several pamphlets, which made them pass with many for Mr Gay's.--P. + +[308] 'And turn this whole illusion on the town:' it was a common +practice of this bookseller to publish vile pieces of obscure hands +under the names of eminent authors.--P. + +[309] 'Cook shall be Prior:' the man here specified wrote a thing called +the Battle of the Poets, in which Philips and Welsted were the heroes, +and Swift and Pope utterly routed. He also published some malevolent +things in the British, London, and Daily journals; and at the same time +wrote letters to Mr Pope protesting his innocence. His chief work was a +translation of Hesiod, to which Theobald wrote notes and half-notes, +which he carefully owned.--P. + +[310] 'Rueful length of face:' 'the decrepit person or figure of a man +are no reflections upon his genius; an honest mind will love and esteem +a man of worth, though he be deformed or poor. Yet the author of the +Dunciad hath libelled a person for his rueful length of face!'--Mist's +Journal, June 8. This genius and man of worth, whom an honest mind +should love, is Mr Curll. True it is he stood in the pillory, an +incident which would lengthen the face of any man though it were ever so +comely, therefore is no reflection on the natural beauty of Mr Curll. +But as to reflections on any man's face or figure Mr Dennis saith +excellently: 'Natural deformity comes not by our fault; 'tis often +occasioned by calamities and diseases, which a man can no more help than +a monster can his deformity. There is no one misfortune and no one +disease but what all the rest of mankind are subject to. But the +deformity of this author is visible, present, lasting, unalterable, and +peculiar to himself. 'Tis the mark of God and nature upon him, to give +us warning that we should hold no society with him, as a creature not of +our original, nor of our species; and they who have refused to take this +warning which God and nature have given them, and have, in spite of it, +by a senseless presumption, ventured to be familiar with him, have +severely suffered, &c. 'Tis certain his original is not from Adam, but +from the Devil,' &c.--Dennis, Character of Mr P., octavo, 1716. +Admirably it is observed by Mr Dennis against Mr Law, p. 33, 'That the +language of Billingsgate can never be the language of charity, nor +consequently of Christianity.'--P. + +[311] 'On Codrus' old, or Dunton's modern bed:' of Codrus the poet's +bed, see Juvenal, describing his poverty very copiously, Sat. iii. ver. +103, &c. John Dunton was a broken bookseller, and abusive scribbler. He +wrote Neck or Nothing, a violent satire on some ministers of state; a +libel on the Duke of Devonshire, and the Bishop of Peterborough, &c.--P. + +[312] 'And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge:' John Tutchin, author of +some vile verses, and of a weekly paper called the Observator. He was +sentenced to be whipped through several towns in the west of England, +upon which he petitioned King James II. to be hanged. When that prince +died in exile, he wrote an invective against his memory, occasioned by +some humane elegies on his death. He lived to the time of Queen +Anne.--P. + +[313] 'There Ridpath, Roper:' authors of the Flying-post and Post-boy, +two scandalous papers on different sides, for which they equally and +alternately deserved to be cudgelled, and were so.--P. + +[314] 'Himself among the storied chiefs he spies:' the history of +Curll's being tossed in a blanket and whipped by the scholars of +Westminster is well known.--P. + +[315] 'Eliza:' Eliza Haywood. This woman was authoress of those most +scandalous books called the Court of Carimania, and the New Utopia.--P. + +[316] 'Kirkall:' the name of an engraver. Some of this lady's works were +printed in four volumes in 12mo, with her picture thus dressed up before +them.--P. + +[317] 'Osborne, Thomas;' a bookseller in Gray's Inn, very well qualified +by his impudence to act this part; and therefore placed here instead of +a less deserving predecessor. This man published advertisements for a +year together, pretending to sell Mr Pope's subscription books of +Homer's Iliad at half the price. Of which books he had none, but cut to +the size of them (which was quarto) the common books in folio, without +copperplates, on a worse paper, and never above half the value.--P. This +was the man Johnson knocked down. + +[318] 'Rolli:' Paolo Antonio Rolli, an Italian poet, and writer of many +operas in that language, which, partly by the help of his genius, +prevailed in England near twenty years. He taught Italian to some fine +gentlemen, who affected to direct the operas.--P. + +[319] 'Bentley:' this applies not to Richard but to Thomas Bentley, his +nephew, and a small imitator of his great uncle. + +[320] 'Welsted:' Leonard Welsted, author of the Triumvirate, or a Letter +in verse from Palaemon to Celia at Bath, which was meant for a satire on +Mr P. and some of his friends about the year 1718.--P. + +[321] 'With thunder rumbling from the mustard bowl:' the old way of +making thunder and mustard were the same; but since it is more +advantageously performed by troughs of wood with stops in them. Whether +Mr Dennis was the inventor of that improvement, I know not; but it is +certain that being once at a tragedy of a new author, he fell into a +great passion at hearing some, and cried, ''Sdeath! that is _my_ +thunder.'--P. + +[322] 'Norton:' see ver. 417.--J. Durant Breval, author of a very +extra-ordinary Book of Travels, and some poems.--P. + +[323] 'Webster:' the editor of a newspaper called the Weekly Miscellany. + +[324] 'Whitfield:' the great preacher--what a contrast to his satirist! + +[325] 'As morning prayer, and flagellation end:' it is between eleven +and twelve in the morning, after church service, that the criminals are +whipped in Bridewell. This is to mark punctually the time of the day: +Homer does it by the circumstance of the judges rising from court, or of +the labourers' dinner; our author by one very proper both to the persons +and the scene of his poem, which we may remember commenced in the +evening of the Lord-mayor's day. The first book passed in that night; +the next morning the games begin in the Strand; thence along Fleet +Street (places inhabited by booksellers); then they proceed by Bridewell +towards Fleet-ditch; and, lastly, through Ludgate to the City and the +temple of the goddess.--P. + +[326] 'Dash through thick and thin--love of dirt--dark dexterity:' the +three chief qualifications of party-writers: to stick at nothing, to +delight in flinging dirt, and to slander in the dark by guess.--P. + +[327] 'The weekly journals:' papers of news and scandal intermixed, on +different sides and parties, and frequently shifting from one side to +the other, called the London Journal, British Journal, Daily Journal, +&c., the concealed writers of which for some time were Oldmixon, Roome, +Arnall, Concanen, and others; persons never seen by our author.--P. + +[328] 'A peck of coals a-piece:' our indulgent poet, whenever he has +spoken of any dirty or low work, constantly puts us in mind of the +poverty of the offenders, as the only extenuation of such practices. Let +any one but remark, when a thief, a pickpocket, a highwayman, or a +knight of the post are spoken of, how much our hate to those characters +is lessened, if they add a needy thief, a poor pickpocket, a hungry +highwayman, a starving knight of the post, &c.--P. + +[329] 'In naked majesty Oldmixon stands:' Mr John Oldmixon, next to Sir +Dennis the most ancient critic of our nation.--P. + +[330] 'Next Smedley dived:' the person here mentioned, an Irishman, was +author and publisher of many scurrilous pieces, a weekly Whitehall +journal, in the year 1722, in the name of Sir James Baker; and +particularly whole volumes of Billingsgate against Dr Swift and Mr Pope, +called Gulliveriana and Alexandriana, printed in octavo, 1728.--P. + +[331] 'Aaron Hill:' see life. + +[332] 'With each a sickly brother at his back: sons of a day, &c:' these +were daily papers, a number of which, to lessen the expense, were +printed one on the back of another.--P. + +[333] 'Osborne:' a name assumed by the eldest and gravest of these +writers, who at last, being ashamed of his pupils, gave his paper over, +and in his age remained silent.--P. + +[334] 'Gazetteers:' temporary journals, the ephemerals of the then +press, the spawn of the minister of the hour, 'born and dying with the +_foul_ breath that made them.' + +[335] 'William Arnall:' bred an attorney, was a perfect genius in this +sort of work. He began under twenty with furious party-papers; then +succeeded Concanen in the 'British Journal.' At the first publication of +the 'Dunciad,' he prevailed on the author not to give him his due place +in it, by a letter professing his detestation of such practices as his +predecessor's. But since, by the most unexampled insolence, and personal +abuse of several great men, the poet's particular friends, he most amply +deserved a niche in the temple of infamy: witness a paper, called the +'Free Briton;' a dedication entitled, 'To the genuine blunderer,' 1732, +and many others. He wrote for hire, and valued himself upon it; not +indeed without cause, it appearing that he received 'for Free Britons, +and other writings, in the space of four years, no less than ten +thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven pounds, six shillings, and eight +pence, out of the Treasury.' But frequently, through his fury or folly, +he exceeded all the bounds of his commission, and obliged his honourable +patron to disavow his scurrilities.--P. + +[336] 'The plunging prelate:' Bishop Sherlock. + +[337] 'And Milbourn:' Luke Milbourn, a clergyman, the fairest of +critics, who, when he wrote against Mr Dryden's Virgil, did him justice +in printing at the same time his own translations of him, which were +intolerable.--P. + +[338] 'Lud's famed gates:' 'King Lud, repairing the city, called it +after his own name, Lud's Town; the strong gate which he built in the +west part he likewise, for his own honour, named Ludgate. In the year +1260, this gate was beautified with images of Lud and other kings. Those +images in the reign of Edward VI. had their heads smitten off, and were +otherwise defaced by unadvised folks. Queen Mary did set new heads upon +their old bodies again. The 28th of Queen Elizabeth, the same gate was +clean taken down, and newly and beautifully builded, with images of Lud +and others, as afore.' Stowe's Survey of London.--P. + +[339] 'Thrice Budgell aim'd to speak:' famous for his speeches on many +occasions about the South Sea Scheme, &c. 'He is a very ingenious +gentleman, and hath written some excellent Epilogues to Plays, and one +small piece on Love, which is very pretty.' Jacob, Lives of Poets, vol. +ii. p. 289. But this gentleman since made himself much more eminent, and +personally well known to the greatest statesmen of all parties, as well +as to all the courts of law in this nation.--P. + +[340] 'Toland and Tindal:' two persons, not so happy as to be obscure, +who wrote against the religion of their country. Toland, the author of +the Atheist's liturgy, called 'Pantheisticon,' was a spy, in pay to Lord +Oxford. Tindal was author of the 'Rights of the Christian Church,' and +'Christianity as Old as the Creation.' He also wrote an abusive pamphlet +against Earl S----, which was suppressed, while yet in MS., by an +eminent person, then out of the ministry, to whom he showed it, +expecting his approbation: this doctor afterwards published the same +piece, _mutatis mutandis_, against that very person.--P. + +[341] 'Christ's no kingdom here:' this is said by Curll, Key to Dunc., +to allude to a sermon of a reverend Bishop (Hoadley).--P. + +[342] 'Centlivre:' Mrs Susanna Centlivre, wife to Mr Centlivre, Yeoman +of the Mouth to his Majesty. She wrote many plays, and a song (says Mr +Jacob, vol. i. p. 32) before she was seven years old. She also wrote a +ballad against Mr Pope's Homer, before he began it.--P. + +[343] 'Motteux:' translator of Don Quixote. + +[344] 'Boyer the state, and Law the stage gave o'er:' A. Boyer, a +voluminous compiler of annals, political collections, &c.--William Law, +A.M., wrote with great zeal against the stage; Mr Dennis answered with +as great.--P. William Law was an extraordinary man. His 'Serious Call' +made Dr Johnson religious. He became mystical in his views. + +[345] 'Morgan:' a writer against religion. + +[346] 'Mandeville:' the famous author of the 'Fable of the Bees.' + +[347] 'Norton:' Norton Defoe, natural offspring of the famous Daniel. He +edited the 'Flying Post,' and was a detractor of Pope. + +[348] 'Taylor:' John Taylor, the water-poet, an honest man, who owns he +learned not so much as the Accidence--a rare example of modesty in a +poet! + +'I must confess I do want eloquence, +And never scarce did learn my Accidence; +For having got from _possum_ to _posset_, +I there was gravell'd, could no further get.' + +He wrote fourscore books in the reign of James I. and Charles I., and +afterwards (like Edward Ward) kept an ale-house in Long-Acre. He died in +1654.--P. + +[349] 'Benlowes:' a country gentleman, famous for his own bad poetry, +and for patronising bad poets, as may be seen from many dedications of +Quarles and others to him. Some of these anagrammed his name, Benlowes, +into Benevolus; to verify which, he spent his whole estate upon +them.--P. + +[350] 'And Shadwell nods the poppy:' Shadwell took opium for many years, +and died of too large a dose, in the year 1692.--P. + +[351] 'Old Bavius sits:' Bavius was an ancient poet, celebrated by +Virgil for the like cause as Bayes by our author, though not in so +Christian-like a manner: for heathenishly it is declared by Virgil of +Bavius, that he ought to be hated and detested for his evil works; _qui +Bavium non odit_; whereas we have often had occasion to observe our +poet's great good nature and mercifulness through the whole course of +this poem. Scribl.--P. + +[352] 'Brown and Mears:' booksellers, printers for anybody.--The +allegory of the souls of the dull coming forth in the form of books, +dressed in calf's leather, and being let abroad in vast numbers by +booksellers, is sufficiently intelligible.--P. + +[353] 'Ward in pillory:' John Ward of Hackney, Esq., member of +parliament, being convicted of forgery, was first expelled the House, +and then sentenced to the pillory on the 17th of February 1727. Mr Curll +(having likewise stood there) looks upon the mention of such a gentleman +in a satire as a great act of barbarity. Key to the Dunc., 3d edit. p. +16. And another author reasons thus upon it: Durgen., 8vo, pp. 11, 12, +'How unworthy is it of Christian charity to animate the rabble to abuse +a worthy man in such a situation? What could move the poet thus to +mention a brave sufferer, a gallant prisoner, exposed to the view of all +mankind? It was laying aside his senses, it was committing a crime, for +which the law is deficient not to punish him! nay, a crime which man can +scarce forgive or time efface! Nothing surely could have induced him to +it but being bribed by a great lady,' &c. (to whom this brave, honest, +worthy gentleman was guilty of no offence but forgery, proved in open +court). But it is evident this verse could not be meant of him, it being +notorious that no eggs were thrown at that gentleman. Perhaps, +therefore, it might be intended of Mr Edward Ward, the poet, when he +stood there.--P. + +[354] 'Settle:' Elkanah Settle was once a writer in vogue, as well as +Cibber, both for dramatic poetry and politics.--P. + +[355] 'Monarch:' Chi Ho-am-ti, Emperor of China, the same who built the +great wall between China and Tartary, destroyed all the books and +learned men of that empire.--P. + +[356] 'Physic of the soul:' the caliph, Omar I., having conquered Egypt, +caused his general to burn the Ptolemaean library, on the gates of which +was this inscription, [Greek: PSYCHES IATREION], the Physic of the +soul.--P. + +[357] 'Happy!--had Easter never been:' wars in England anciently, about +the right time of celebrating Easter.--P. + +[358] 'Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with awe:' this gentleman is +son of a considerable maltster of Romsey in Southamptonshire, and bred +to the law under a very eminent attorney; who, between his more +laborious studies, has diverted himself with poetry. He is a great +admirer of poets and their works, which has occasioned him to try his +genius that way. He has wrote in prose the Lives of the Poets, Essays, +and a great many law-books, The Accomplished Conveyancer, Modern +Justice, &c.' Giles Jacob of himself, Lives of Poets, vol. i. He very +grossly, and unprovoked, abused in that book the author's friend, Mr +Gay.--P. + +[359] 'Horneck and Roome:' these two were virulent party-writers, +worthily coupled together, and one would think prophetically, since, +after the publishing of this piece, the former dying, the latter +succeeded him in honour and employment. The first was Philip Horneck, +author of a Billingsgate paper called The High German Doctor. Edward +Roome was son of an undertaker for funerals in Fleet Street, and wrote +some of the papers called Pasquin, where by malicious innuendos he +endeavoured to represent our author guilty of malevolent practices with +a great man then under prosecution of Parliament. Of this man was made +the following epigram: + +'You ask why Roome diverts you with his jokes, +Yet if he writes, is dull as other folks? +You wonder at it. This, sir, is the case, +The jest is lost unless he prints his face.' + +Popple was the author of some vile plays and pamphlets. He published +abuses on our author in a paper called the Prompter.--P. + +[360] 'Goode:' an ill-natured critic, who wrote a satire on our author, +called The Mock Aesop, and many anonymous libels in newspapers for +hire.--P. + +[361] 'Ralph:' James Ralph, a name inserted after the first editions, +not known to our author till he writ a swearing-piece called Sawney, +very abusive of Dr Swift, Mr Gay, and himself. These lines allude to a +thing of his, entitled Night, a Poem. This low writer attended his own +works with panegyrics in the journals, and once in particular praised +himself highly above Mr Addison, in wretched remarks upon that author's +account of English Poets, printed in a London journal, September 1728. +He was wholly illiterate, and knew no language, not even French. Being +advised to read the rules of dramatic poetry before he began a play, he +smiled and replied, 'Shakspeare wrote without rules.' He ended at last +in the common sink of all such writers, a political newspaper, to which +he was recommended by his friend Arnall, and received a small pittance +for pay.--P. B. Franklin seems to have thought that his friend Ralph was +alluded to here. See his Autobiography. + +[362] 'Behold yon pair:' one of these was author of a weekly paper +called The Grumbler, as the other was concerned in another called +Pasquin, in which Mr Pope was abused with the Duke of Buckingham and +Bishop of Rochester. They also joined in a piece against his first +undertaking to translate the Iliad, entitled Homerides, by Sir Iliad +Doggrel, printed 1715.--P. + +[363] 'Wormius hight:' let not this name, purely fictitious, be +conceited to mean the learned Olaus Wormius; much less (as it was +unwarrantably foisted into the surreptitious editions) our own +antiquary, Mr Thomas Hearne, who had no way aggrieved our poet, but, on +the contrary, published many curious tracts which he hath to his great +contentment perused.--P. + +[364] 'Lo! Henley stands,' &c.: J. Henley, the orator; he preached on +the Sundays upon theological matters, and on the Wednesdays upon all +other sciences. Each auditor paid one shilling. He declaimed some years +against the greatest persons, and occasionally did our author that +honour.--P. + +[365] 'Sherlock, Hare, Gibson:' bishops of Salisbury, Chichester, and +London, whose Sermons and Pastoral Letters did honour to their country +as well as stations.--P. + +[366] Of Toland and Tindal, see book ii. Thomas Woolston was an impious +madman, who wrote in a most insolent style against the miracles of the +Gospel, in the year 1726, &c.--P. + +[367] 'A sable sorcerer:' Dr Faustus, the subject of a set of farces, +which, lasted in vogue two or three seasons, in which both playhouses +strove to outdo each other for some years.--P. + +[368] 'Hell rises, Heaven descends, and dance on earth:' this monstrous +absurdity was actually represented in Tibbald's Rape of Proserpine.--P. + +[369] 'Lo! one vast egg:' in another of these farces, Harlequin is +hatched upon the stage, out of a large egg.--P. + +[370] 'Immortal Rich:' Mr John Rich, master of the Theatre Royal in +Covent Garden, was the first that excelled this way.--P. + +[371] Booth and Cibber were joint managers of the Theatre in Drury +Lane.--P. + +[372] 'Though long my party:' Settle, like most party-writers, was very +uncertain in his political principles. He was employed to hold the pen +in the character of a popish successor, but afterwards printed his +narrative on the other side. He had managed the ceremony of a famous +pope-burning on Nov. 17, 1680, then became a trooper in King James's +army, at Hounslow Heath. After the Revolution he kept a booth at +Bartholomew Fair, where, in the droll called St George for England, he +acted in his old age in a dragon of green leather of his own invention; +he was at last taken into the Charter-house, and there died, aged sixty +years.--P. + +[373] 'Polypheme:' he translated the Italian Opera of Polifemo, but +unfortunately lost the whole gist of the story. The Cyclops asks Ulysses +his name who tells him his name is Noman. After his eye is put out, he +roars and calls the brother Cyclops to his aid: they inquire who has +hurt him? he answers Noman; whereupon they all go away again. Our +ingenious translator made Ulysses answer, 'I take no name,' whereby all +that followed became unintelligible. Hence it appears that Mr Gibber +(who values himself on subscribing to the English translation of Homer's +Iliad) had not that merit with respect to the Odyssey, or he might have +been better instructed in the Greek Punology.--P. + +[374] 'Faustus, Pluto,' &c.: names of miserable farces, which it was the +custom to act at the end of the best tragedies, to spoil the digestion +of the audience.--P. + +[375] 'Ensure it but from fire:' in Tibbald's farce of Proserpine, a +corn-field was set on fire; whereupon the other play-house had a barn +burned down for the recreation of the spectators. They also rivalled +each other in showing the burnings of hell fire, in Dr Faustus.--P. + +[376] 'Another AEschylus appears:' it is reported of AEschylus, that when +his tragedy of the Furies was acted, the audience were so terrified that +the children fell into fits, and the big-bellied women miscarried.--P. + +[377] 'On poets' tombs see Benson's titles writ:' W-----m Benson +(surveyor of the buildings to his Majesty King George I.) gave in a +report to the Lords, that their house and the painted-chamber adjoining +were in immediate danger of falling. Whereupon the Lords met in a +committee to appoint some other place to sit in, while the house should +be taken down. But it being proposed to cause some other builders first +to inspect it, they found it in very good condition. The Lords, upon +this, were going upon an address to the king against Benson for such a +misrepresentation; but the Earl of Sunderland, then secretary, gave them +an assurance that his Majesty would remove him, which was done +accordingly. In favour of this man, the famous Sir Christopher Wren, who +had been architect to the Crown for above fifty years, who built most of +the churches in London, laid the first stone of St Paul's, and lived to +finish it, had been displaced from his employment at the age of nearly +ninety years.--P. + +[378] 'Ambrose Philips:' 'he was,' saith Mr Jacob, 'one of the wits at +Button's, and a justice of the peace.'--P. + +[379] 'While Jones' and Boyle's united labours fall:' at the time when +this poem was written, the banqueting-house of Whitehall, the church and +piazza of Covent Garden, and the palace and chapel of Somerset House, +the works of the famous Inigo Jones, had been for many years so +neglected as to be in danger of ruin. The portico of Covent Garden +church had been just then restored and beautified at the expense of the +Earl of Burlington, who, at the same time, by his publication of the +designs of that great master and Palladio, as well as by many noble +buildings of his own, revived the true taste of architecture in this +kingdom.--P. + +[380] 'Mad Mathesis:' alluding to the strange conclusions some +mathematicians have deduced from their principles, concerning the real +quantity of matter, the reality of space, &c.--P. W. + +[381] 'Pure space:' i.e. pure and defaecated from matter. 'Ecstatic +stare:' the action of men who look about with full assurance of seeing +what does not exist, such as those who expect to find space a real +being.--W. + +[382] 'Running round the circle, finds it square:' regards the wild and +fruitless attempts of squaring the circle.--P. W. + +[383] 'Nor couldst thou,' &c.: this noble person in the year 1737, when +the act aforesaid was brought into the House of Lords, opposed it in an +excellent speech (says Mr Cibber), 'with a lively spirit, and uncommon +eloquence.' This speech had the honour to be answered by the said Mr +Cibber, with a lively spirit also, and in a manner very uncommon, in the +8th chapter of his Life and Manners.--P. + +[384] 'Harlot form:' the attitude given to this phantom represents the +nature and genius of the Italian Opera; its affected airs, its +effeminate sounds, and the practice of patching up these operas with +favourite songs, incoherently put together. These things were supported +by the subscriptions of the nobility. This circumstance, that Opera +should prepare for the opening of the grand sessions, was prophesied of +in book iii. ver. 304, + +'Already Opera prepares the way, +The sure forerunner of her gentle sway.' + +P. W. + +[385] 'Division reign:' alluding to the false taste of playing tricks in +music with numberless divisions, to the neglect of that harmony which +conforms to the sense, and applies to the passions. Mr Handel had +introduced a great number of hands, and more variety of instruments into +the orchestra, and employed even drums and cannon to make a fuller +chorus; which proved so much too manly for the fine gentlemen of his +age, that he was obliged to remove his music into Ireland. After which +they were reduced, for want of composers, to practise the patch-work +above mentioned.--P. W. + +[386] 'Chromatic:' that species of the ancient music called the +Chromatic was a variation and embellishment, in odd irregularities, of +the diatonic kind. They say it was invented about the time of Alexander, +and that the Spartans forbad the use of it, as languid and +effeminate.--W. + +[387] 'Wake the dull church, and lull the ranting stage:' i.e. dissipate +the devotion of the one by light and wanton airs; and subdue the pathos +of the other by recitative and sing-song.--W. + +[388] 'Narcissus:' Lord Hervey. + +[389] 'Bold Benson:' this man endeavoured to raise himself to fame by +erecting monuments, striking coins, setting up heads, and procuring +translations of Milton; and afterwards by as great passion for Arthur +Johnston, a Scotch physician's version of the Psalms, of which he +printed many fine editions. See more of him, book iii. v. 325.--P. W. + +[390] 'The decent knight:' Sir Thomas Hanmer, who was about to publish a +very pompous edition of a great author, at his own expense.--P. W. + +[391] 'So by each bard an alderman,' &c.: alluding to the monument of +Butler erected by Alderman Barber. + +[392] 'The Samian letter:' the letter Y, used by Pythagoras as an emblem +of the different roads of Virtue and Vice. + +'Et tibi quae Samios diduxit litera ramos.'--Pers. P. W. + +[393] 'House or Hall:' Westminster Hall and the House of Commons.--W. + +[394] 'Master-piece of man:' viz., an epigram. The famous Dr South +declared a perfect epigram to be as difficult a performance as an epic +poem. And the critics say, 'An epic poem is the greatest work human +nature is capable of.'--P. W. + +[395] 'Gentle James:' Wilson tells us that this king, James I., took +upon himself to teach the Latin tongue to Carr, Earl of Somerset; and +that Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, would speak false Latin to him, +on purpose to give him the pleasure of correcting it, whereby he wrought +himself into his good graces.--P. W. See Fortunes of Nigel. + +[396] 'Locke:' in the year 1703 there was a meeting of the heads of the +University of Oxford to censure Mr Locke's Essay on Human Understanding, +and to forbid the reading it. See his Letters in the last edit.--P. W. + +[397] 'Crousaz:' see Life. + +[398] 'The streams:' the River Cam, running by the walls of these +colleges, which are particularly famous for their skill in +disputation.--P. W. + +[399] 'Sleeps in port:' viz., 'now retired into harbour, after the +tempests that had long agitated his society.' So Scriblerus. But the +learned Scipio Maffei understands it of a certain wine called port, from +Oporto a city of Portugal, of which this professor invited him to drink +abundantly. Scip. Maff., _De Compotationibus Academicis_.--P. W. + +[400] 'Letter:' alluding to those grammarians, such as Palamedes and +Simonides, who invented single letters. But Aristarchus, who had found +out a double one, was therefore worthy of double honour.--Scribl. W. + +[401] 'Digamma:' alludes to the boasted restoration of the Aeolic +digamma, in his long-projected edition of Homer. He calls it something +more than letter, from the enormous figure it would make among the other +letters, being one gamma set upon the shoulders of another.--P. W. + +[402] 'Cicero:' grammatical disputes about the manner of pronouncing +Cicero's name in Greek.--W. + +[403] 'Freind--Alsop:' Dr Robert Freind, master of Westminster school, +and canon of Christ-church--Dr Anthony Alsop, a happy imitator of the +Horatian style.--P. W. + +[404] 'Manilius or Solinus:' some critics having had it in their choice +to comment either on Virgil or Manilius, Pliny or Solinus, have chosen +the worse author, the more freely to display their critical +capacity.--P. W. + +[405] 'Suidas, Gellius, Stobaeus:' the first a dictionary-writer, a +collector of impertinent facts and barbarous words; the second a minute +critic; the third an author, who gave his common-place book to the +public, where we happen to find much mince-meat of old books.--P. W. + +[406] 'Divinity:' a word much affected by the learned Aristarchus in +common conversation, to signify genius or natural acumen. But this +passage has a further view: [Greek: Nous] was the Platonic term for +mind, or the first cause, and that system of divinity is here hinted at +which terminates in blind nature without a [Greek: Nous].--P. W. + +[407] 'Petrify a genius:' those who have no genius, employed in works of +imagination; those who have, in abstract sciences.--P. W. + +[408] 'And hew the block off:' a notion of Aristotle, that there was +originally in every block of marble a statue, which would appear on the +removal of the superfluous parts.--P. W. + +[409] 'Ajax' spectre:' see Homer Odyss. xi., where the ghost of Ajax +turns sullenly from Ulysses the traveller, who had succeeded against him +in the dispute for the arms of Achilles.--Scribl. W. + +[410] 'The first came forwards:' this forwardness or pertness is the +certain consequence, when the children of Dulness are spoiled by too +great fondness of their parent.--W. + +[411] 'As if he saw St James's:' reflecting on the disrespectful and +indecent behaviour of several forward young persons in the presence, so +offensive to all serious men, and to none more than the good +Scriblerus.--P. W. + +[412] 'Lily-silver'd vales:' Tube roses.--P. + +[413] 'Lion of the deeps:' the winged Lion, the arms of Venice.--P. W. + +[414] 'Greatly-daring dined:' it being, indeed, no small risk to eat +through those extraordinary compositions, whose disguised ingredients +are generally unknown to the guests, and highly inflammatory and +unwholesome.--P. W. + +[415] 'Jansen, Fleetwood, Cibber:' three very eminent persons, all +managers of plays; who, though not governors by profession, had, each in +his way, concerned themselves in the education of youth, and regulated +their wits, their morals, or their finances, at that period of their age +which is the most important--their entrance into the polite world.--P. +W. + +[416] 'Paridel:' the poet seems to speak of this young gentleman with +great affection. The name is taken from Spenser, who gives it to a +wandering courtly squire, that travelled about for the same reason for +which many young squires are now fond of travelling, and especially to +Paris.--P. W. + +[417] 'Annius:' the name taken from Annius the Monk of Viterbo, famous +for many impositions and forgeries of ancient manuscripts and +inscriptions, which he was prompted to by mere vanity, but our Annius +had a more substantial motive. Annius, Sir Andrew Fontaine.--P. W. + +[418] 'Still to cheat:' some read skill, but that is frivolous, for +Annius hath that skill already; or if he had not, skill were not wanting +to cheat such persons.--Bentl. P. W. + +[419] 'Hunt the Athenian fowl:' the owl stamped on the reverse on the +ancient money of Athens.--P. W. + +[420] 'Attys and Cecrops:' the first king of Athens, of whom it is hard +to suppose any coins are extant; but not so improbable as what follows, +that there should be any of Mahomet, who forbad all images, and the +story of whose pigeon was a monkish fable. Nevertheless, one of these +Annius's made a counterfeit medal of that impostor, now in the +collection of a learned nobleman.--P. W. + +[421] 'Mummius:' this name is not merely an allusion to the mummies he +was so fond of, but probably referred to the Roman General of that name, +who burned Corinth, and committed the curious statues to the captain of +a ship, assuring him, 'that if any were lost or broken, he should +procure others to be made in their stead,' by which it should seem +(whatever may be pretended) that Mummius was no virtuoso.-P. W. + +[422] 'Cheops:' a king of Egypt, whose body was certainly to be known, +as being buried alone in his pyramid, and is therefore more genuine than +any of the Cleopatras. This royal mummy, being stolen by a wild Arab, +was purchased by the consul of Alexandria, and transmitted to the Museum +of Mummius; for proof of which he brings a passage in Sandys's Travels, +where that accurate and learned voyager assures us that he saw the +sepulchre empty, which agrees exactly (saith he) with the time of the +theft above mentioned. But he omits to observe that Herodotus tells the +same thing of it in his time.--P. W. + +[423] 'Speak'st thou of Syrian princes:' the strange story following, +which may be taken for a fiction of the poet, is justified by a true +relation in Spon's Voyages. Vaillant (who wrote the History of the +Syrian Kings as it is to be found on medals) coming from the Levant, +where he had been collecting various coins, and being pursued by a +corsair of Sallee, swallowed down twenty gold medals. A sudden bourasque +freed him from the rover, and he got to land with them in his belly. On +his road to Avignon, he met two physicians, of whom he demanded +assistance. One advised purgations, the other vomits. In this +uncertainty he took neither, but pursued his way to Lyons, where he +found his ancient friend, the famous physician and antiquary Dufour, to +whom he related his adventure. Dufour first asked him whether the medals +were of the higher empire? He assured him they were. Dufour was ravished +with the hope of possessing such a treasure--he bargained with him on +the spot for the most curious of them, and was to recover them at his +own expense.--P. W. + +[424] 'Witness, great Ammon:' Jupiter Ammon is called to witness, as the +father of Alexander, to whom those kings succeeded in the division of +the Macedonian Empire, and whose horns they wore on their medals.--P. W. + +[425] 'Douglas:' a physician of great learning and no less taste; above +all, curious in what related to Horace, of whom he collected every +edition, translation, and comment, to the number of several hundred +volumes.--P. W. + +[426] 'And named it Caroline:' it is a compliment which the florists +usually pay to princes and great persons, to give their names to the +most curious flowers of their raising. Some have been very jealous of +vindicating this honour, but none more than that ambitions gardener, at +Hammersmith, who caused his favourite to be painted on his sign, with +this inscription--'This is _my_ Queen Caroline.'--P. W. + +[427] 'Moss:' of which the naturalists count I can't tell how many +hundred species.--P. W. + +[428] 'Wilkins' wings:' one of the first projectors of the Royal +Society, who, among many enlarged and useful notions, entertained the +extravagant hope of a possibility to fly to the moon; which has put some +volatile geniuses upon making wings for that purpose.--P. W. + +[429] 'Moral evidence:' alluding to a ridiculous and absurd way of some +mathematicians in calculating the gradual decay of moral evidence by +mathematical proportions; according to which calculation, in about fifty +years it will be no longer probable that Julius Caesar was in Gaul, or +died in the senate-house.--P. W. + +[430] 'The high priori road:' those who, from the effects in this +visible world, deduce the eternal power and Godhead of the First Cause, +though they cannot attain to an adequate idea of the Deity, yet discover +so much of him as enables them to see the end of their creation, and the +means of their happiness; whereas they who take this high priori road +(such as Hobbes, Spinoza, Descartes, and some better reasoners) for one +that goes right, ten lose themselves in mists, or ramble after visions, +which deprive them of all right of their end, and mislead them in the +choice of the means.--P. W. + +[431] 'Make Nature still:' this relates to such as, being ashamed to +assert a mere mechanic cause, and yet unwilling to forsake it entirely, +have had recourse to a certain plastic nature, elastic fluid, subtile +matter, &c.--P. W. + +[432] + +'Thrust some mechanic cause into his place, +Or bind in matter, or diffuse in space:' + +The first of these follies is that of Descartes; the second, of Hobbes; +the third, of some succeeding philosophers.--P. W. + +[433] 'Bright image:' bright image was the title given by the later +Platonists to that vision of nature which they had formed out of their +own fancy, so bright that they called it [Greek: Autopton Agalma], or +the self-seen image, i. e., seen by its own light. This _ignis fatuus_ +has in these our times appeared again in the north; and the writings of +Hutcheson, Geddes, and their followers, are full of its wonders. For in +this _lux borealis_, this self-seen image, these second-sighted +philosophers see everything else.--Scribl. W. Let it be either the +Chance god of Epicurus, or the Fate of this goddess.--W. + +[434] 'Theocles:' thus this philosopher calls upon his friend, to +partake with him in these visions: + +'To-morrow, when the eastern sun +With his first beams adorns the front +Of yonder hill, if you're content +To wander with me in the woods you see, +We will pursue those loves of ours, +By favour of the sylvan nymphs: + +and invoking, first, the genius of the place, we'll try to obtain at +least some faint and distant view of the sovereign genius and first +beauty.' Charact. vol. ii. p. 245.--P. W. + +[435] 'Society adores:' see the Pantheisticon, with its liturgy and +rubrics, composed by Toland.--W. + +[436] 'Silenus:' Silenus was an Epicurean philosopher, as appears from +Virgil, Eclog. vi., where he sings the principles of that philosophy in +his drink. He is meant for one Thomas Gordon.--P. W. + +[437] 'First, slave to words:' a recapitulation of the whole course of +modern education described in this book, which confines youth to the +study of words only in schools, subjects them to the authority of +systems in the universities, and deludes them with the names of party +distinctions in the world,--all equally concurring to narrow the +understanding, and establish slavery and error in literature, +philosophy, and politics. The whole finished in modern free-thinking; +the completion of whatever is vain, wrong, and destructive to the +happiness of mankind, as it establishes self-love for the sole principle +of action.--P. W. + +[438] 'Smiled on by a queen:' i.e. this queen or goddess of Dulness.--P. + +[439] 'Mr Philip Wharton, who died abroad and outlawed in 1791. + +[440] 'Nothing left but homage to a king:' so strange as this must seem +to a mere English reader, the famous Mons. de la Bruyere declares it to +be the character of every good subject in a monarchy; 'where,' says he, +'there is no such thing as love of our country; the interest, the glory, +and service of the prince, supply its place.'--De la Republique, chap. +x.--P. + +[441] 'The balm of Dulness:' the true balm of Dulness, called by the +Greek physicians [Greek: Kolakeia], is a sovereign remedy against +inanity, and has its poetic name from the goddess herself. Its ancient +dispensators were her poets; and for that reason our author, book ii. v. +207, calls it the poet's healing balm; but it is now got into as many +hands as Goddard's Drops or Daffy's Elixir.--W. + +[442] 'The board with specious miracles he loads:' these were only the +miracles of French cookery, and particularly pigeons _en crapeau_ were a +common dish.--P. W. + +[443] '_Seve_ and _verdeur_:' French terms relating to wines, which +signify their flavour and poignancy.--P. W. + +[444] 'Bladen--Hays:' names of gamesters. Bladen is a black man. Robert +Knight, cashier of the South Sea Company, who fled from England in 1720 +(afterwards pardoned in 1742). These lived with the utmost magnificence +at Paris, and kept open tables frequented by persons of the first +quality of England, and even by princes of the blood of France.--P. W. +The former note of 'Bladen is a black man,' is very absurd. The +manuscript here is partly obliterated, and doubtless could only have +been, Wash blackmoors white, alluding to a known proverb.--Scribl. P. W. +Bladen was uncle to Collins the poet. See our edition of 'Collins.' + +[445] 'Gregorian, Gormogon:' a sort of lay-brothers, slips from the root +of the freemasons.--P. W. + +[446] 'Arachne's subtile line:' this is one of the most ingenious +employments assigned, and therefore recommended only to peers of +learning. Of weaving stockings of the webs of spiders, see the Phil. +Trans.--P. W. + +[447] 'Sergeant call:' alluding perhaps to that ancient and solemn +dance, entitled, A Call of Sergeants.--P. W. + +[448] 'Teach kings to fiddle:' an ancient amusement of sovereign +princes, viz. Achilles, Alexander, Nero; though despised by +Themistocles, who was a republican. 'Make senates dance:' either after +their prince, or to Pontoise, or Siberia.--P. W. + +[449] 'Gilbert:' Archbishop of York, who had attacked Dr King, of +Oxford, a friend of Pope's. + +[450] Verses 615-618 were written many years ago, and may be found in +the state poems of that time. So that Scriblerus is mistaken, or whoever +else have imagined this poem of a fresher date.--P. W. + +[451] 'Truth to her old cavern fled:' alluding to the saying of +Democritus, that Truth lay at the bottom of a deep well, from whence he +had drawn her; though Butler says, he first put her in, before he drew +her out.--W. + +[452] Read thus confidently, instead of 'beginning with the word books, +and ending with the word flies,' as formerly it stood. Read also, +'containing the entire sum of one thousand seven hundred and fifty-four +verses,' instead of 'one thousand and twelve lines;' such being the +initial and final words, and such the true and entire contents of this +poem. Thou art to know, reader! that the first edition thereof, like +that of Milton, was never seen by the author (though living and not +blind). The editor himself confessed as much in his preface; and no two +poems were ever published in so arbitrary a manner. The editor of this +had as boldly suppressed whole passages, yea the entire last book, as +the editor of Paradise Lost added and augmented. Milton himself gave but +ten books, his editor twelve; this author gave four books, his editor +only three. But we have happily done justice to both; and presume we +shall live, in this our last labour, as long as in any of our +others.--Bentl. + +[453] Milbourn on Dryden's Virgil, 8vo, 1698, p. 6. + +[454] Ibid. p. 38. + +[455] Ibid. p. 192. + +[456] Ibid. p. 8. + +[457] Whip and Key, 4to, printed for R. Janeway, 1682, preface. + +[458] Ibid. + +[459] Milbourn, p. 9. + +[460] Ibid. p. 176. + +[461] Ibid. p. 39. + +[462] Whip and Key, preface. + +[463] Oldmixon, Essay on Criticism, p. 84. + +[464] Milbourn, p. 2. + +[465] Ibid. p. 35. + +[466] Ibid. pp. 22, 192. + +[467] Ibid. p. 72. + +[468] Ibid. p. 203. + +[469] Ibid, p. 78. + +[470] Ibid, p. 206. + +[471] Ibid. p. 19. + +[472] Ibid. p. 144, 190. + +[473] Ibid. p. 67. + +[474] Milbourn, p. 192. + +[475] Ibid. p. 125. + +[476] Whip and Key, preface. + +[477] Milbourn, p. 105. + +[478] Ibid. p. 11. + +[479] Ibid. p. 176. + +[480] Ibid. p. 57. + +[481] Whip and Key, preface. + +[482] Milbourn, p. 34. + +[483] Ibid. p. 35. + +[484] Dennis's Remarks on the Rape of the Lock, preface, p. xii. + +[485] Dunciad Dissected. + +[486] Preface to Gulliveriana. + +[487] Dennis, Character of Mr P. + +[488] Theobald, Letter in Mist's Journal, June 22, 1728. + +[489] List at the end of a Collection of Verses, Letters, +Advertisements, 8vo, printed for A. Moore, 1728, and the preface to it, +p. 6. + +[490] Dennis's Remarks on Homer, p. 27. + +[491] Preface to Gulliveriana, p. 11. + +[492] Dedication to the Collection of Verses, Letters, &c., p. 9. + +[493] Mist's Journal of June 8, 1728. + +[494] Character of Mr P. and Dennis on Homer. + +[495] Dennis's Remarks on Pope's Homer, p. 12. + +[496] Ibid. p. 14. + +[497] Character of Mr P., p. 17, and Remarks on Homer, p. 91. + +[498] Dennis's Remarks on Homer, p. 12. + +[499] Daily Journal, April 23, 1728. + +[500] Supplement to the Profund, preface. + +[501] Oldmixon, Essay on Criticism, p. 66. + +[502] Dennis's Remarks, p. 28. + +[503] Homerides, p. 1, &c. + +[504] British Journal, Nov. 25, 1727. + +[505] Dennis, Daily Journal, May 11, 1728. + +[506] Dennis, Remarks on Homer, Preface. + +[507] Dennis's Remarks on the Rape of the Lock, preface, p. 9. + +[508] Character of Mr P., p. 3. + +[509] Ibid. + +[510] Dennis, Remarks on Homer, p. 37. + +[511] Ibid, p. 8. + +END OF POPE'S WORKS. + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Pope, Vol. II, by Alexander Pope + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF POPE, VOL. 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