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Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Works (1736)
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Bibliographic details for the Electronic File
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Works (1736)
Cambridge
1992
Chadwyck-Healey
English Poetry Full-Text Database
© 1992 Chadwyck-Healey. Do not export or print from this database without checking the Copyright Conditions to see what is permitted.
Bibliographic details for the Source Text
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744
(1688-1744)
The Works of Alexander Pope
London
Printed for B. Lintot ... Lawton Gilliver ... H. Lintot ... L. Gilliver, and J. Clarke [etc.]
1736
4 v.
Verse reproduced elsewhere in English Poetry omitted
VOL. I.
WITH Explanatory Notes and Additions never before printed.
[Page]
Hæc studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant; secundas
res ornant, adversis perfugium & solatium præbent;
delectant domi, non impediunt foris; pernoctant
nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur.
Tully.
[Page xvii]
Buckingham, John Sheffield, Duke of, 1648-1720 or 21: On Mr. Pope and his Poems,
By his Grace JOHN SHEFFIELD, Duke of Buckingham.
[from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 With Age decay'd, with Courts and bus'ness tir'd,
2 Caring for nothing but what Ease requir'd;
3 Too dully serious for the Muse's sport,
4 And from the Critics safe arriv'd in Port;
5 I little thought of launching forth agen,
6 Amidst advent'rous Rovers of the Pen;
7 And after so much undeserv'd success,
8 Thus hazarding at last to make it less.
9 Encomiums suit not this censorious time,
10 Itself a subject for satyric rhime;
11 Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd,
12 Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd!
13 But to this Genius, join'd with so much Art,
14 Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part,
15 Poets are bound a loud applause to pay;
16 Apollo bids it, and they must obey.
[Page xviii]
17 And yet so wonderful, sublime a thing,
18 As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing;
19 Except I justly could at once commend
20 A good Companion, and as firm a Friend.
21 One moral, or a meer well-natur'd deed,
22 Can all desert in Sciences exceed.
23 'Tis great delight to laugh at some men's ways,
24 But a much greater to give Merit praise.
Wycherley, William, 1640-1716: To Mr. Pope, on his Pastorals. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 In these more dull, as more censorious days,
2 When few dare give, and fewer merit Praise;
3 A Muse sincere, that never Flatt'ry knew,
4 Pays what to friendship and desert is due.
5 Young, yet judicious; in your verse are found
6 Art strengthning Nature, Sense improv'd by Sound.
7 Unlike those Wits, whose numbers glide along
8 So smooth, no thought e'er interrupts the song:
9 Laboriously enervate they appear,
10 And write not to the head, but to the ear:
11 Our minds unmov'd and unconcern'd they lull,
12 And are at best most musically dull;
[Page xix]
13 So purling streams with even murmurs creep,
14 And hush the heavy hearers into sleep.
15 As smoothest speech is most deceitful found,
16 The smoothest numbers oft' are empty sound.
17 But Wit and Judgment join at once in you,
18 Sprightly as Youth, as Age consummate too:
19 Your strains are regularly bold, and please
20 With unforc'd care, and unaffected ease,
21 With proper thoughts, and lively images:
22 Such as by Nature to the Ancients shown,
23 Fancy improves, and Judgment makes your own:
24 For great men's fashions to be follow'd are,
25 Altho' disgraceful 'tis their clothes to wear.
26 Some in a polish'd style write Pastoral,
27 Arcadia speaks the language of the Mall;
28 Like some fair Shepherdess, the Sylvan Muse,
29 Should wear those flow'rs her native fields produce;
30 And the true measure of the shepherd's wit
31 Should, like his garb, be for the country fit:
32 Yet must his pure and unaffected thought
33 More nicely than the common swains be wrought.
34 So, with becoming art, the Players dress
35 In silks, the shepherd, and the shepherdess;
36 Yet still unchang'd the form and mode remain,
37 Shap'd like the homely russet of the swain.
38 Your rural Muse appears to justify
39 The long-lost graces of Simplicity:
40 So rural beauties captivate our sense
41 With virgin charms, and native excellence.
[Page xx]
42 Yet long her Modesty those charms conceal'd,
43 'Till by men's Envy to the world reveal'd;
44 For Wits industrious to their trouble seem,
45 And needs will envy what they must esteem.
46 Live and enjoy their spite! nor mourn that fate,
47 Which wou'd, if Virgil liv'd, on Virgil wait;
48 Whose Muse did once, like thine, in plains delight;
49 Thine shall, like his, soon take a higher flight;
50 So Larks, which first from lowly fields arise,
51 Mount by degrees, and reach at last the skies.
W. WYCHERLEY.
Knapp, F.: TO Mr. Pope, on his Windsor-Forest. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 Hail, sacred Bard! a Muse unknown before
2 Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic shore.
3 To our dark world thy shining page is shown,
4 And Windsor's gay retreat becomes our own.
5 The Eastern pomp had just bespoke our care,
6 And India pour'd her gaudy treasures here:
[Page xxi]
7 A various spoil adorn'd our naked land,
8 The pride of Persia glitter'd on our strand,
9 And China's Earth was cast on common sand:
10 Toss'd up and down the glossy fragments lay,
11 And dress'd the rocky shelves, and pav'd the painted bay.
12 Thy treasures next arriv'd: and now we boast
13 A nobler Cargo on our barren coast:
14 From thy luxuriant Forest we receive
15 More lasting glories than the East can give.
16 Where-e'er we dip in thy delightful page,
17 What pompous scenes our busy thoughts engage!
18 The pompous scenes in all their pride appear,
19 Fresh in the page, as in the grove they were.
20 Nor half so true the fair Lodona shows
21 The sylvan state that on her border grows,
22 While she the wond'ring shepherd entertains
23 With a new Windsor in her wat'ry plains:
24 Thy juster lays the lucid wave surpass,
25 The living scene is in the Muse's glass.
26 Nor sweeter notes the echoing Forests chear,
27 When Philomela sits and warbles there,
28 Than when you sing the greens, and opening glades,
29 And give us Harmony as well as Shades:
30 A Titian's hand might draw the grove, but you
31 Can paint the grove, and add the Music too.
32 With vast variety thy pages shine;
33 A new creation starts in ev'ry line.
34 How sudden trees rise to the reader's sight,
35 And make a doubtful scene of shade and light,
36 And give at once the day, at once the night!
[Page xxii]
37 And here again what sweet confusion reigns,
38 In dreary deserts mix'd with painted plains!
39 And see! the deserts cast a pleasing gloom;
40 And shrubby heaths rejoice in purple bloom:
41 Whilst fruitful crops rise by their barren side,
42 And bearded groves display their annual pride.
43 Happy the Man, who strings his tuneful lyre,
44 Where woods, and brooks, and breathing fields inspire!
45 Thrice happy you! and worthy best to dwell
46 Amidst the rural joys you sing so well.
47 I in a cold, and in a barren clime,
48 Cold as my thought, and barren as my rhime,
49 Here on the Western beach attempt to chime.
50 O joyless flood! O rough tempestuous main!
51 Border'd with weeds, and solitudes obscene!
52 Snatch me, ye Gods! from these Atlantic shores,
53 And shelter me in Windsor's fragrant bow'rs;
54 Or to my much-lov'd Isis' walks convey,
55 And on her flow'ry banks for ever lay.
56 Thence let me view the venerable scene,
57 The awful dome, the groves eternal green:
58 Where sacred Hough long found his fam'd retreat,
59 And brought the Muses to the sylvan seat,
60 Reform'd the wits, unlock'd the Classic store,
61 And made that Music which was Noise before.
62 There with illustrious Bards I spent my days,
63 Nor free from censure, nor unknown to praise,
64 Enjoy'd the blessings that his reign bestow'd,
65 Nor envy'd Windsor in the soft abode.
[Page xxiii]
66 The golden minutes smoothly danc'd away,
67 And tuneful Bards beguil'd the tedious day:
68 They sung, nor sung in vain, with numbers fir'd
69 That Maro taught, or Addison inspir'd.
70 Ev'n I essay'd to touch the trembling string:
71 Who cou'd hear them, and not attempt to sing?
72 Rouz'd from these dreams by thy commanding strain,
73 I rise, and wander thro' the field or plain;
74 Led by thy Muse from sport to sport I run,
75 Mark the stretch'd line, or hear the thund'ring gun.
76 Ah! how I melt with pity, when I spy
77 On the cold earth the flutt'ring Pheasant lie;
78 His gaudy robes in dazling lines appear,
79 And ev'ry feather shines and varies there.
80 Nor can I pass the gen'rous courser by,
81 But while the prancing steed allures my eye,
82 He starts, he's gone! and now I see him fly
83 O'er hills and dales, and now I lose the course,
84 Nor can the rapid sight pursue the flying horse.
85 Oh cou'd thy Virgil from his orb look down,
86 He'd view a courser that might match his own!
87 Fir'd with the sport, and eager for the chace,
88 Lodona's murmurs stop me in the race.
89 Who can refuse Lodona's melting tale?
90 The soft complaint shall over time prevail;
91 The Tale be told, when shades forsake her shore,
92 The Nymph be sung, when she can flow no more.
93 Nor shall thy song, old Thames! forbear to shine,
94 At once the subject and the song divine.
[Page xxiv]
95 Peace, sung by thee, shall please ev'n Britons more
96 Than all their shouts for Victory before.
97 Oh! cou'd Britannia imitate thy stream,
98 The world should tremble at her awful name:
99 From various springs divided waters glide,
100 In diff'rent colours roll a diff'rent tyde,
101 Murmur along their crooked banks a while,
102 At once they murmur and enrich the Isle,
103 A while distinct thro' many channels run,
104 But meet at last, and sweetly flow in one;
105 There joy to lose their long-distinguish'd names,
106 And make one glorious, and immortal Thames.
FR. KNAPP.
Fenton, Elijah, 1683-1730: To Mr. Pope, In imitation of a Greek Epigram on Homer. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 When Phoebus, and the nine harmonious maids,
2 Of old assembled in the Thespian shades;
3 What theme, they cry'd, what high immortal air,
4 Befit these harps to sound, and thee to hear?
[Page xxv]
5 Reply'd the God; "Your loftiest notes employ,
6 "To sing young Peleus, and the fall of Troy.
7 The wond'rous song with rapture they rehearse;
8 Then ask who wrought that miracle of verse?
9 He answer'd with a frown; "I now reveal
10 "A truth, that Envy bids me not conceal:
11 "Retiring frequent to this Laureat vale,
12 "I warbled to the Lyre that fav'rite tale,
13 "Which, unobserv'd, a wand'ring Greek and blind,
14 "Heard me repeat, and treasur'd in his mind;
15 "And fir'd with thirst of more than mortal praise,
16 "From me, the God of Wit, usurp'd the bays.
17 But let vain Greece indulge her growing fame,
18 Proud with celestial spoils to grace her name;
19 Yet when my Arts shall triumph in the West,
20 And the White Isle with female pow'r is blest;
21 Fame, I foresee, will make reprizals there,
22 And the Translator's Palm to me transfer.
23 With less regret my claim I now decline,
24 The World will think his English Iliad mine.
E. FENTON.
[Page xxvi]
Parnell, Thomas, 1679-1718: To Mr. Pope. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 To praise, and still with just respect to praise
2 A Bard triumphant in immortal bays,
3 The Learn'd to show, the Sensible commend,
4 Yet still preserve the province of the Friend;
5 What life, what vigour must the lines require?
6 What Music tune them, what Affection fire?
7 O might thy Genius in my bosom shine!
8 Thou should'st not fail of numbers worthy thine;
9 The brightest Ancients might at once agree
10 To sing within my lays, and sing of thee.
11 Horace himself wou'd own thou dost excell
12 In candid arts to play the Critic well.
13 Ovid himself might wish to sing the Dame
14 Whom Windsor-Forest sees a gliding stream:
15 On silver feet, with annual Osier crown'd,
16 She runs for ever thro' Poetic ground.
17 How flame the glories of Belinda's Hair,
18 Made by thy Muse the envy of the Fair?
19 Less shone the tresses Ægypt's Princess wore,
20 Which sweet Callimachus so sung before.
21 Here courtly trifles set the world at odds;
22 Belles war with Beaus, and Whims descend for Gods.
23 The new Machines, in names of ridicule,
24 Mock the grave frenzy of the Chimic fool.
[Page xxvii]
25 But know, ye Fair, a point conceal'd with art,
26 The Sylphs and Gnomes are but a Woman's heart.
27 The Graces stand in sight; a Satyr-train
28 Peeps o'er their head, and laughs behind the scene.
29 In Fame's fair Temple, o'er the boldest wits
30 Inshrin'd on high, the sacred Virgil sits;
31 And sits in measures, such as Virgil's Muse
32 To place thee near him, might be fond to chuse.
33 How might he tune th'alternate reed with thee,
34 Perhaps a Strephon thou, a Daphnis he;
35 While some old Damon, o'er the vulgar wise,
36 Thinks he deserves, and thou deserv'st the Prize.
37 Rapt with the thought, my fancy seeks the plains,
38 And turns me shepherd while I hear the strains.
39 Indulgent nurse of ev'ry tender gale,
40 Parent of flowrets, old Arcadia hail!
41 Here in the cool my limbs at ease I spread,
42 Here let thy Poplars whisper o'er my head!
43 Still slide thy waters, soft among the trees,
44 Thy Aspins quiver in a breathing breeze!
45 Smile all ye valleys, in eternal spring,
46 Be hush'd, ye winds, while Pope and Virgil sing.
47 In English lays, and all sublimely great,
48 Thy Homer warms with all his ancient heat;
49 He shines in Council, thunders in the Fight,
50 And flames with ev'ry sense of great delight.
51 Long has that Poet reign'd, and long unknown,
52 Like Monarchs sparkling on a distant throne;
53 In all the Majesty of Greek retir'd,
54 Himself unknown, his mighty name admir'd;
[Page xxviii]
55 His language failing, wrapt him round with night;
56 Thine, rais'd by thee, recalls the work to light.
57 So wealthy Mines, that ages long before
58 Fed the large realms around with golden Ore,
59 When choak'd by sinking banks, no more appear,
60 And shepherds only say, The mines were here:
61 Should some rich youth (if nature warm his heart,
62 And all his projects stand inform'd with art)
63 Here clear the caves, there ope the leading vein;
64 The mines detected flame with gold again.
65 How vast, how copious, are thy new designs!
66 How ev'ry Music varies in thy lines!
67 Still, as I read, I feel my bosom beat,
68 And rise in raptures by another's heat.
69 Thus in the wood, when summer dress'd the days
70 While Windsor lent us tuneful hours of ease,
71 Our ears the lark, the thrush, the turtle blest,
72 And Philomela sweetest o'er the rest:
73 The shades resound with song---O softly tread,
74 While a whole season warbles round my head.
75 This to my friend---and when a friend inspires,
76 My silent harp its master's hand requires,
77 Shakes off the dust, and makes these rocks resound;
78 For fortune plac'd me in unfertile ground:
79 Far from the joys that with my soul agree,
80 From wit, from learning---very far from thee.
81 Here moss-grown trees expand the smallest leaf;
82 Here half an Acre's corn is half a sheaf;
83 Here hills with naked heads the tempest meet,
84 Rocks at their sides, and torrents at their feet;
[Page xxix]
85 Or lazy lakes, unconscious of a flood,
86 Whose dull brown Naiads ever sleep in mud.
87 Yet here Content can dwell, and learned Ease,
88 A Friend delight me, and an Author please;
89 Ev'n here I sing, when Pope supplies the theme,
90 Shew my own love, tho' not increase his fame.
T. PARNELL.
Broome, J.: To Mr. Pope. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 Let vulgar souls triumphal arches raise,
2 Or speaking marbles to record their praise;
3 And picture (to the voice of Fame unknown)
4 The mimic feature on the breathing stone;
5 Mere mortals! subject to death's total sway,
6 Reptiles of earth, and beings of a day!
7 'Tis thine, on ev'ry heart to grave thy praise,
8 A monument which Worth alone can raise:
9 Sure to survive, when time shall whelm in dust
10 The arch, the marble, and the mimic bust:
11 Nor 'till the volumes of th'expanded sky
12 Blaze in one flame, shalt thou and Homer die:
13 Then sink together, in the world's last fires,
14 What heav'n created, and what heav'n inspires.
[Page xxx]
15 If aught on earth, when once this breath is fled,
16 With human transport touch the mighty dead,
17 Shakespear, rejoice! his hand thy page refines;
18 Now ev'ry scene with native brightness shines;
19 Just to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought;
20 So Tully publish'd what Lucretius wrote;
21 Prun'd by his care, thy laurels loftier grow,
22 And bloom afresh on thy immortal brow.
23 Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael! time invades,
24 And the bold figure from the canvass fades,
25 A rival hand recalls from ev'ry part
26 Some latent grace, and equals art with art;
27 Transported we survey the dubious strife,
28 While each fair image starts again to life.
29 How long, untun'd, had Homer's sacred lyre
30 Jarr'd grating discord, all extinct his fire?
31 This you beheld; and taught by heav'n to sing
32 Call'd the loud music from the sounding string.
33 Now wak'd from slumbers of three thousand years,
34 Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears,
35 Tow'rs o'er the field of death; as fierce he turns,
36 Keen flash his arms, and all the Hero burns;
37 With martial stalk, and more than mortal might,
38 He strides along, and meets the Gods in fight:
39 Then the pale Titans, chain'd on burning floors,
40 Start at the din that rends th'infernal shores,
41 Tremble the tow'rs of heav'n, earth rocks her coasts,
42 And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts.
43 To ev'ry theme responds thy various lay;
44 Here rowls a torrent, there Meanders play;
[Page xxxi]
45 Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise,
46 Toss the wild waves, and thunder in the skies;
47 Or softer than a yielding virgin's sigh,
48 The gentle breezes breathe away and die.
49 Thus, like the radiant God who sheds the day,
50 You paint the vale, or gild the azure way;
51 And while with ev'ry theme the verse complies,
52 Sink without groveling, without rashness rise.
53 Proceed, great Bard! awake th'harmonious string,
54 Be ours all Homer! still Ulysses sing.
55 How long [Footnote: 1Kb] 
that Hero, by unskilful hands,
56 Stript of his robes, a Beggar trod our lands?
57 Such as he wander'd o'er his native coast,
58 Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior lost:
59 O'er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread;
60 Old age disgrac'd the honours of his head;
61 Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball shin'd
62 The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind.
63 But you, like Pallas, ev'ry limb infold
64 With royal robes, and bid him shine in gold;
65 Touch'd by your hand, his manly frame improves
66 With grace divine, and like a God he moves.
67 Ev'n I, the meanest of the Muses train,
68 Inflam'd by thee, attempt a nobler strain;
69 Advent'rous waken the Mæolian lyre,
70 Tun'd by your hand, and sing as you inspire:
71 So arm'd by great Achilles for the fight,
72 Patroclus conquer'd in Achilles' right:
[Page xxxii]
73 Like theirs, our Friendship! and I boast my name
74 To thine united---for thy Friendship's Fame.
75 This labour past, of heav'nly subjects sing,
76 While hov'ring angels listen on the wing,
77 To hear from earth such heart-felt raptures rise,
78 As, when they sing, suspended hold the skies:
79 Or nobly rising in fair Virtue's cause,
80 From thy own Life transcribe th'unerring laws:
81 Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend;
82 To verse like thine fierce savages attend,
83 And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay,
84 Ev'n fiends relenting hear their rage away.
W. BROOME.
Harcourt, S.: To Mr. Pope, on the publishing his Works. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
1 He comes, he comes! bid ev'ry Bard prepare
2 The song of triumph, and attend his Car.
3 Great Sheffield's Muse the long procession heads,
4 And throws a lustre o'er the pomp she leads,
5 First gives the Palm she fir'd him to obtain,
6 Crowns his gay brow, and shows him how to reign.
[Page xxxiii]
7 Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught,
8 Was form'd for all the miracles he wrought:
9 Thus Chiron did the youth he taught applaud,
10 Pleas'd to behold the earnest of a God.
11 But hark what shouts, what gath'ring crouds rejoice!
12 Unstain'd their praise by any venal voice,
13 Such as th'Ambitious vainly think their due,
14 When Prostitutes, or needy Flatt'rers sue.
15 And see the Chief! before him laurels born;
16 Trophies from undeserving temples torn;
17 Here Rage enchain'd reluctant raves, and there
18 Pale Envy dumb, and sickning with despair,
19 Prone to the earth she bends her loathing eye,
20 Weak to support the blaze of majesty.
21 But what are they that turn the sacred page?
22 Three lovely Virgins, and of equal age;
23 Intent they read, and all-enamour'd seem,
24 As he that met his Likeness in the stream:
25 The Graces these; and see how they contend,
26 Who most shall praise, who best shall recommend?
27 The Chariot now the painful steep ascends;
28 The Pæans cease; thy glorious labour ends.
29 Here fix'd, the bright eternal Temple stands,
30 Its prospect an unbounded view commands:
31 Say, wond'rous youth, what Column wilt thou chuse,
32 What laurell'd Arch for thy triumphant Muse?
33 Tho' each great Ancient court thee to his shrine,
34 Tho' ev'ry Laurel thro' the dome be thine,
35 (From the proud Epic, down to those that shade
36 The gentler brow of the soft Lesbian maid)
[Page xxxiv]
37 Go to the Good and Just, an awful train,
38 Thy soul's delight, and glory of the Fane:
39 While thro' the earth thy dear remembrance flies,
40 "Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
SIMON HARCOURT.
Lyttelton, George Lyttelton, Baron, 1709-1773: To Mr. Pope. [from Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:The Works (1736)]
From Rome, 1730.
1 Immortal Bard! for whom each Muse has wove
2 The fairest garlands of th'Aonian Grove;
3 Preserv'd, our drooping Genius to restore,
4 When Addison and Congreve are no more;
5 After so many stars extinct in night,
6 The darken'd Age's last remaining light!
7 To thee from Latian realms this verse is writ,
8 Inspir'd by memory of antient Wit;
9 For now no more these climes their influence boast,
10 Fall'n is their Glory, and their Virtue lost;
11 From Tyrants, and from Priests, the Muses fly,
12 Daughters of Reason and of Liberty.
13 Nor Baiæ now, nor Umbria's plain they love,
14 Nor on the banks of Nar, or Mincio rove;
[Page xxxv]
15 To Thames's flow'ry borders they retire,
16 And kindle in thy breast the Roman fire.
17 So in the shades, where chear'd with summer rays
18 Melodious linnets warbled sprightly lays,
19 Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain
20 Of gloomy winter's unauspicious reign,
21 No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love,
22 But mournful silence saddens all the grove.
23 Unhappy Italy! whose alter'd state
24 Has felt the worst severity of Fate:
25 Not that Barbarian hands her Fasces broke,
26 And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke;
27 Not that her palaces to earth are thrown,
28 Her cities desart, and her fields unsown;
29 But that her ancient Spirit is decay'd,
30 That sacred Wisdom from her bounds is fled,
31 That there the source of Science flows no more,
32 Whence its rich streams supply'd the world before.
33 Illustrious Names! that once in Latium shin'd,
34 Born to instruct, and to command Mankind;
35 Chiefs, by whose Virtue mighty Rome was rais'd,
36 And Poets, who those chiefs sublimely prais'd!
37 Oft' I the traces you have left explore,
38 Your ashes visit, and your urns adore;
39 Oft' kiss, with lips devout, some mouldring stone,
40 With ivy's venerable shade o'ergrown;
41 Those hallow'd ruins better pleas'd to see,
42 Than all the Pomp of modern Luxury.
[Page xxxvi]
43 As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I strow'd,
44 While with th'inspiring Muse my bosom glow'd,
45 Crown'd with eternal bays, my ravish'd eyes
46 Beheld the Poet's awful Form arise;
47 Stranger, he said, whose pious hand has paid
48 These grateful rites to my attentive shade,
49 When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air,
50 To Pope this message from his Master bear:
51 Great Bard, whose numbers I myself inspire,
52 To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre,
53 If high exalted on the Throne of Wit,
54 Near Me and Homer thou aspire to sit,
55 No more let meaner Satire dim the rays
56 That flow majestic from thy nobler Bays;
57 In all the flow'ry paths of Pindus stray,
58 But shun that thorny, that unpleasing way;
59 Nor when each soft engaging Muse is thine,
60 Address the least attractive of the Nine.
61 Of thee more worthy were the task, to raise
62 A lasting Column to thy Country's Praise,
63 To sing the Land, which yet, alone can boast
64 That Liberty corrupted Rome has lost;
65 Where Science in the arms of Peace is laid,
66 And plants her Palm beneath the Olive's shade.
67 Such was the Theme for which my lyre I strung,
68 Such was the People whose exploits I sung;
69 Brave, yet refin'd, for Arms and Arts renown'd,
70 With different bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd,
71 Dauntless opposers of Tyrannic Sway,
72 But pleas'd, a mild Augustus to obey.
[Page xxxvii]
73 If these commands submissive thou receive,
74 Immortal and unblam'd thy Name shall live,
75 Envy to black Cocytus shall retire,
76 And houl with Furies in tormenting fire;
77 Approving Time shall consecrate thy Lays,
78 And join the Patriot's to the Poet's Praise.
GEORGE LYTTELTON.
[Page 25]
PASTORALS,
WITH A Discourse on Pastoral. Written in the Year 1704.
[Footnote: 2Kb]
Rura mihi & rigui placeant in vallibus amnes,
Flumina amem, sylvasque, inglorius!
Virg.
[Page 27]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: SPRING. THE FIRST PASTORAL. [from The Works (1736)]
To Sir William Trumbal.
1 [Footnote: 2Kb] First in these fields I try the sylvan strains,
2 Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains:
3 Fair Thames flow gently from thy sacred spring,
4 While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing;
[Page 28]
5 Let vernal airs thro' trembling osiers play,
6 And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay.
7 You, that too wise for pride, too good for pow'r,
8 Enjoy the glory to be great no more,
9 And carrying with you all the world can boast,
10 To all the world illustriously are lost!
[Page 29]
11 O let my Muse her slender reed inspire,
12 [Footnote: 1Kb] Till in your native shades you tune the lyre:
13 So when the Nightingale to rest removes,
14 The Thrush may chant to the forsaken groves,
15 But, charm'd to silence, listens while she sings,
16 And all th'aerial audience clap their wings.
17 [Footnote: 1Kb] Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews,
18 Two Swains, whom Love kept wakeful, and the Muse,
19 Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care,
20 Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair:
21 The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side,
22 Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus reply'd.
Daphnis.
23 Hear how the birds, on ev'ry bloomy spray,
24 With joyous music wake the dawning day!
25 Why sit we mute when early linnets sing,
26 When warbling Philomel salutes the spring?
[Page 30]
27 Why sit we sad when Phosphor shines so clear,
28 And lavish nature paints the purple year?
Strephon.
29 Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain,
30 While yon' slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain.
31 Here on green banks the blushing vi'lets glow;
32 Here western winds on breathing roses blow.
33 I'll stake yon' lamb, that near the fountain plays,
34 [Footnote: 1Kb] And from the brink his dancing shade surveys.
Daphnis.
35 [Footnote: 1Kb] And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines,
36 [Footnote: 1Kb] And swelling clusters bend the curling vines:
37 Four figures rising from the work appear,
38 [Footnote: 1Kb] The various seasons of the rowling year;
[Page 31]
39 And what is that, which binds the radiant sky,
40 Where twelve bright Signs in beauteous order lie?
Damon.
41 [Footnote: 1Kb] Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing,
42 Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring,
43 Now leaves the trees, and flow'rs adorn the ground;
44 Begin, the vales shall ev'ry note rebound.
Strephon.
45 Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise
46 [Footnote: 1Kb] With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays!
47 [Footnote: 1Kb] A milk-white bull shall at your altars stand,
48 That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand.
Daphnis.
49 O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize,
50 And make my tongue victorious as her eyes;
51 No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,
52 Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherds heart.
[Page 32]
Strephon.
53 Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain,
54 Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain;
55 But feigns a laugh, to see me search around,
56 And by that laugh the willing fair is found.
Daphnis.
57 The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green,
58 [Footnote: 1Kb] She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;
59 While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,
60 How much at variance are her feet and eyes!
Strephon.
61 [Footnote: 1Kb] O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow,
62 And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;
63 Blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
64 Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.
Daphnis.
65 Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;
66 Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves;
67 If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid,
68 Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade.
[Page 33]
Strephon.
69 [Footnote: 1Kb] [Footnote: 1Kb] All nature mourns, the skies relent in show'rs,
70 Hush'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flow'rs;
71 If Delia smile, the flow'rs begin to spring,
72 The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.
Daphnis.
73 All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,
74 The Sun's mild lustre warms the vital air;
75 If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,
76 And vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more.
Strephon.
77 In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love,
78 At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
79 But Delia always; absent from her sight,
80 Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.
Daphnis.
81 Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May,
82 More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day;
[Page 34]
83 Ev'n spring displeases, when she shines not here;
84 But blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.
Strephon.
85 Say, shepherd, say, in what glad soil appears
86 [Footnote: 1Kb] A wond'rous Tree that sacred Monarchs bears?
87 Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize,
88 And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.
Daphnis.
89 Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields
90 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Thistle springs, to which the Lilly yields?
91 And then a nobler prize I will resign;
92 For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.
Damon.
93 Cease to contend, for (Daphnis) I decree
94 The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee:
[Page 35]
95 Blest Swains, whose nymphs in ev'ry grace excel,
96 Blest Nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well!
97 Now rise and haste to yonder woodbine bow'rs,
98 A soft retreat from sudden vernal show'rs;
99 [Footnote: 1Kb] The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd,
100 While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around.
101 For see! the gath'ring flocks to shelter tend,
102 And from the Pleiads fruitful show'rs descend.
[Page 36]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: SUMMER. THE SECOND PASTORAL. [from The Works (1736)]
To Dr. Garth.
1 A shepherd's Boy (he seeks no better name)
2 Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
3 [Footnote: 1Kb] Where dancing sun-beams on the waters play'd,
4 And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring shade. [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Page 37]
5 There while he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow,
6 The flocks around a dumb compassion show,
7 The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bow'r,
8 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Jove consented in a silent show'r.
9 [Footnote: 1Kb] Accept, O Garth, the Muse's early lays,
10 That adds this wreath of Ivy to thy Bays;
11 Hear what from Love unpractis'd hearts endure,
12 From Love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
13 Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
14 Defence from Phoebus, not from Cupid's beams,
15 [Footnote: 1Kb] To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I sing,
16 [Footnote: 1Kb] The woods shall answer, and their echo ring.
17 The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay,
18 Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
[Page 38]
19 The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
20 They parch'd with heat, and I enflam'd by thee.
21 The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
22 While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.
23 [Footnote: 1Kb] Where stray ye Muses, in what lawn or grove,
24 While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
25 In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
26 Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
27 [Footnote: 1Kb] As in the crystal spring I view my face,
28 Fresh rising blushes paint the wat'ry glass;
29 But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
30 I shun the fountains which I sought before.
31 Once I was skill'd in ev'ry herb that grew,
32 And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning dew;
[Page 39]
33 Ah wretched shepherd, what avails thy art,
34 To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!
35 Let other swains attend the rural care,
36 Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces share:
37 But nigh yon' mountain let me tune my lays,
38 Embrace my Love, and bind my brows with bays.
39 [Footnote: 1Kb] That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath
40 [Footnote: 1Kb] Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death;
41 He said; Alexis, take this pipe, the same
42 That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name:
43 But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
44 For ever silent, since despis'd by thee.
45 Oh! were I made by some transforming pow'r
46 The captive bird that sings within thy bow'r!
47 Then might my voice thy listning ears employ,
48 And I those kisses he receives, enjoy.
49 And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
50 Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
51 The Nymphs forsaking ev'ry cave and spring,
52 Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
[Page 40]
53 Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
54 On you their gifts are all bestow'd again.
55 For you the swains the fairest flow'rs design,
56 And in one garland all their beauties join;
57 Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
58 In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one.
59 See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
60 [Footnote: 1Kb] Descending Gods have found Elyzium here.
61 In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
62 And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade.
63 Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
64 When swains from sheering seek their nightly bow'rs;
65 When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
66 And crown'd with corn, their thanks to Ceres yield.
67 This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
68 But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
69 Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
70 But your Alexis knows no sweet but you.
71 Oh deign to visit our forsaken seats,
72 The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
73 Where-e'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade,
74 Trees, where you sit, shall croud into a shade;
75 Where-e'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise,
76 And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
77 Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
78 Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise!
[Page 41]
79 [Footnote: 1Kb] Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry grove,
80 [Footnote: 1Kb] And winds shall waft it to the pow'rs above.
81 But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
82 The wond'ring forests soon should dance again,
83 The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
84 And headlong streams hang list'ning in their fall!
85 But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
86 The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,
87 To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
88 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ye Gods! and is there no relief for Love?
89 But soon the sun with milder rays descends
90 To the cool ocean, where his journey ends:
91 [Footnote: 1Kb] On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
92 By night he scorches, as he burns by day.
[Page 42]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: AUTUMN. THE THIRD PASTORAL. [from The Works (1736)]
To Mr. Wycherley.
[Footnote: 1Kb]
1 Beneath the shade a spreading Beech displays,
2 Hylas and Ægon sung their rural lays,
3 This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent Love,
4 And Delia's name and Doris fill'd the Grove.
5 Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring;
6 Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I sing.
7 Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire,
8 The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;
9 Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
10 Whose judgment sways us, and whose spirit warms!
11 Oh, skill'd in Nature! see the hearts of Swains,
12 Their artless passions, and their tender pains.
[Page 43]
13 Now setting Phoebus shone serenely bright,
14 And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light;
15 When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan
16 Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan.
17 Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
18 To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
19 As some sad Turtle his lost love deplores,
20 And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
21 Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
22 Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.
23 Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
24 For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song;
25 For her, the lymes their pleasing shades deny;
26 For her, the lillies hang their heads and die.
27 Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring,
28 Ye birds, that left by summer, cease to sing,
29 Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
30 Say, is not absence death to those who love?
31 Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
32 Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;
33 Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree,
34 Die ev'ry flow'r, and perish all, but she.
35 What have I said? where'er my Delia flies,
36 Let spring attend, and sudden flow'rs arise;
37 [Footnote: 1Kb] Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,
38 And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.
[Page 44]
39 Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
40 The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song,
41 The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
42 And streams to murmur, e'er I cease to love.
43 [Footnote: 1Kb] Not bubling fountains to the thirsty swain,
44 Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain,
45 Not show'rs to larks, or sunshine to the bee,
46 Are half so charming, as thy sight to me.
47 Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
48 Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay?
49 Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds,
50 Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.
51 Ye pow'rs, what pleasing frenzy sooths my mind!
52 [Footnote: 1Kb] Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind?
53 She comes, my Delia comes!---Now cease my lay,
54 And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!
55 Next Ægon sung, while Windsor groves admir'd,
56 Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir'd.
57 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
58 Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain:
59 Here where the mountains less'ning as they rise
60 Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies:
[Page 45]
61 While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat,
62 In their loose traces from the field retreat:
63 While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen,
64 [Footnote: 1Kb] And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.
65 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
66 Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day:
67 Oft' on the rind I carv'd her am'rous vows,
68 While she with garlands hung the bending boughs:
69 The garlands fade, the vows are worn away;
70 So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.
71 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
72 Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain,
73 Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine,
74 And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine;
75 Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove;
76 Just Gods! shall all things yield returns but love?
77 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
78 The shepherds cry, "Thy flocks are left a prey---
79 Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep,
80 Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.
81 Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus'd my smart,
82 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
83 [Footnote: 1Kb] What eyes but hers, alas, have pow'r to move!
84 And is there magic but what dwells in love?
[Page 46]
85 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains!
86 I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains.---
87 From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove,
88 Forsake mankind, and all the world---but love!
89 [Footnote: 1Kb] I know thee, Love! wild as the raging main,
90 More fell than tygers on the Lybian plain:
91 Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn,
92 Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born!
93 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
94 Farewell, ye woods! adieu the light of day!
95 One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains.
96 No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains!
97 Thus sung the shepherds till th'approach of night,
98 The skies yet blushing with departing light,
99 When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
100 And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
[Page 47]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: WINTER. THE FOURTH PASTORAL.
To the Memory of Mrs. [Footnote: 1Kb] Tempest. [from The Works (1736)]
Lycidas.
1 Thyrsis, the music of that murm'ring spring,
2 Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.
3 Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below,
4 So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
[Page 48]
5 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
6 The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
7 While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
8 Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!
Thyrsis.
9 Behold the groves that shine with silver frost,
10 Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost.
11 Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
12 That call'd the list'ning Dryads to the plain?
13 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
14 And bade his willows learn the moving song.
Lycidas.
15 So may kind rains their vital moisture yield,
16 And swell the future harvest of thy field.
17 Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
18 And said; "Ye shepherds, sing around my grave!
19 Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn,
20 And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.
Thyrsis.
21 Ye gentle Muses leave your crystal spring,
22 Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring;
[Page 49]
23 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
24 And break your bows, as when Adonis dy'd;
25 And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
26 Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone:
27 "Let nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore,
28 "Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!
29 'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay;
30 See gloomy clouds obscure the chearful day!
31 Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
32 Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
33 See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie,
34 With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
35 Ah what avail the beauties nature wore?
36 Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!
37 For her, the flocks refuse their verdant food,
38 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor thirsty heifers seek the gliding flood.
39 The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
40 In notes more sad than when they sing their own;
41 In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,
42 Silent, or only to her name replies,
43 Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
44 Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!
[Page 50]
45 No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies,
46 Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise;
47 No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
48 Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
49 The balmy Zephyrs, silent since her death,
50 Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath;
51 Th'industrious bees neglect their golden store;
52 Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!
53 No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
54 Shall list'ning in mid air suspend their wings;
55 No more the nightingales repeat her lays,
56 Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
57 No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
58 A sweeter music than their own to hear,
59 But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
60 Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more!
61 Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
62 And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
63 The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,
64 Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
65 The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
66 Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;
67 The winds and trees and floods her death deplore,
68 Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!
69 [Footnote: 1Kb] But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high,
70 Above the clouds, above the starry sky!
[Page 51]
71 Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
72 Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
73 There while you rest in Amaranthine bow'rs,
74 Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs,
75 Behold us kindly who your name implore,
76 Daphne, our Goddess, and our grief no more!
Lycidas.
77 How all things listen, while thy Muse complains!
78 Such silence waits on Philomela's strains,
79 In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze
80 Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.
81 [Footnote: 1Kb] To thee, bright goddess, oft' a lamb shall bleed,
82 If teeming ewes encrease my fleecy breed.
83 While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give,
84 Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!
Thyrsis.
85 See pale Orion sheds unwholesome dews,
86 [Footnote: 1Kb] Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
87 Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay,
88 Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.
89 [Footnote: 1Kb] Adieu ye vales, ye mountains, streams and groves,
90 Adieu ye shepherd's rural lays and loves;
[Page 52]
91 Adieu my flocks, farewell ye sylvan crew,
92 Daphne farewell, and all the world adieu!
[Page 53]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: MESSIAH. A Sacred Eclogue,
In imitation of VIRGIL's POLLIO. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 54]
ADVERTISEMENT.
In reading several passages of the Prophet Isaiah,
which foretell the coming of Christ and the felicities
attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity
between many of the thoughts, and those in the
Pollio of Virgil. This will not seem surprizing, when
we reflect, that the Eclogue was taken from a Sibylline
prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that
Virgil did not copy it line by line, but selected such
ideas as best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry,
and disposed them in that manner which serv'd most to
beautify his piece. I have endeavour'd the same in
this imitation of him, tho' without admitting any thing
of my own; since it was written with this particular
view, that the reader by comparing the several thoughts,
might see how far the images and descriptions of the
Prophet are superior to those of the Poet. But as I fear
I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall subjoin
the passages of Isaiah, and those of Virgil, under
the same disadvantage of a literal translation.
[Page 55]
1 Ye Nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:
2 To heav'nly themes sublimer strains belong.
3 The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades,
4 The dreams of Pindus and th'Aonian maids,
5 Delight no more---O thou my voice inspire
6 Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire!
7 Rapt into future times, the Bard begun,
8 [Footnote: 2Kb] A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son!
[Page 56]
9 From [Footnote 1: 1Kb] Jesse's root behold a branch arise,
10 Whose sacred flow'r with fragrance fills the skies:
11 Th'Æthereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
12 And on its top descends the mystic Dove.
13 Ye [Footnote 2: 1Kb] heav'ns! from high the dewy nectar pour,
14 And in soft silence shed the kindly show'r!
15 The [Footnote 3: 1Kb] sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,
16 From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.
17 All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail;
18 Returning [Footnote 4: 1Kb] Justice lift aloft her scale;
19 Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
20 And white-rob'd Innocence from heav'n descend.
[Page 57]
21 Swift fly the years, and rise th'expected morn!
22 Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
23 [Footnote: 2Kb] See Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
24 With all the incense of the breathing spring:
25 See lofty [Footnote 5: 1Kb] Lebanon his head advance,
26 See nodding forests on the mountains dance;
27 See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
28 And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies!
29 [Footnote: 2Kb] Hark! a glad voice the lonely desart chears;
30 Prepare the [Footnote 6: 1Kb] way! a God, a God appears:
[Page 58]
31 A God; a God! the vocal hills reply,
32 The rocks proclaim th'approaching Deity.
33 Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
34 Sink down ye mountains, and ye valleys rise,
35 With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay;
36 Be smooth ye rocks, ye rapid floods give way!
37 The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold;
38 Hear [Footnote 7: 1Kb] him, ye deaf, and all ye blind, behold!
39 He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
40 And on the sightless eye ball pour the day:
[Page 59]
41 'Tis he th'obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
42 And bid new music charm th'unfolding ear:
43 The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
44 And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
45 No sigh, no murmur the wide world shall hear,
46 From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear,
47 In [Footnote 8: 1Kb] adamantine chains shall Death be bound,
48 And Hell's grim Tyrant feel th'eternal wound.
49 As the good [Footnote 9: 1Kb] shepherd tends his fleecy care,
50 Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air,
51 Explores the lost, the wand'ring sheep directs,
52 By day o'ersees them, and by night protects,
53 The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
54 Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms;
55 Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
56 The promis'd [Footnote 10: 1Kb] father of the future age.
57 No more shall [Footnote 11: 1Kb] nation against nation rise,
58 Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
59 Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
60 The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
61 But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
62 And the broad faulchion in a plow-share end.
63 Then palaces shall rise; the joyful [Footnote 12: 1Kb] Son
64 Shall finish what his short-liv'd Sire begun;
[Page 60]
65 Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
66 And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field.
67 [Footnote: 1Kb] The swain in barren [Footnote 13: 1Kb] desarts with surprize
68 See lillies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
69 And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
70 New falls of water murm'ring in his ear.
71 On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
72 The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
73 Waste sandy [Footnote 14: 1Kb] valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
74 The spiry fir and shapely box adorn;
75 To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed,
76 And od'rous myrtle to the noisom weed.
[Page 61]
77 [Footnote: 2Kb] The [Footnote 15: 1Kb] lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
78 And boys in flow'ry bands the tyger lead;
79 The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
80 And harmless [Footnote 16: 1Kb] serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
81 The smiling infant in his hand shall take
82 The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
83 Pleas'd the green lustre of the scales survey,
84 And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
85 [Footnote: 1Kb] Rise, crown'd with light, imperial [Footnote 17: 1Kb] Salem rise!
86 Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes!
[Page 62]
87 See, a long [Footnote 18: 1Kb] race thy spacious courts adorn;
88 See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
89 In crouding ranks on ev'ry side arise,
90 Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
91 See barb'rous [Footnote 19: 1Kb] nations at thy gates attend,
92 Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
93 See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
94 And heap'd with products of [Footnote 20: 1Kb] Sabæan springs!
95 For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
96 And seeds of gold in Ophyr's mountains glow.
97 See heav'n its sparkling portals wide display,
98 And break upon thee in a flood of day!
99 No more the rising [Footnote 21: 1Kb] Sun shall gild the morn,
100 Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn,
101 But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,
102 One tyde of glory, one unclouded blaze
[Page 63]
103 O'erflow thy courts: The Light himself shall shine
104 Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
105 The [Footnote 22: 1Kb] seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
106 Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
107 But fix'd his word, his saving pow'r remains;
108 Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!
[Page 65]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: WINDSOR-FOREST. [from The Works (1736)]
To the Right Honourable GEORGE Lord Lansdown.
[Footnote 22: 1Kb]
Non injussa cano: Te nostræ Vare myricæ
Te Nemus omne canet; nec Phoebo gratior ulla est
Quam sibi quæ Vari præscripsit pagina nomen.
Virg.
[Page 67]
1 Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
2 At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,
3 [Footnote: 1Kb] Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!
4 Unlock your springs, and open all your shades.
5 Granville commands; your aid O Muses bring!
6 What Muse for Granville can refuse to sing?
7 The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long,
8 Live in description, and look green in song:
[Page 68]
9 These, were my breast inspir'd with equal flame,
10 Like them in beauty, should be like in fame.
11 Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
12 Here earth and water, seem to strive again;
13 Not Chaos like together crush'd and bruis'd,
14 But as the world, harmoniously confus'd:
15 Where order in variety we see,
16 And where, tho' all things differ, all agree.
17 Here waving groves a checquer'd scene display,
18 And part admit, and part exclude the day;
19 As some coy nymph her lover's warm address
20 Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
21 There, interspers'd in lawns and opening glades,
22 Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades.
23 Here in full light the russet plains extend;
24 There wrapt in clouds the blueish hills ascend.
25 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
26 And 'midst the desart fruitful fields arise,
27 That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,
28 Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.
29 Let India boast her plants, nor envy we
30 The weeping amber or the balmy tree,
31 While by our oaks the precious loads are born,
32 And realms commanded which those trees adorn.
[Page 69]
33 Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight,
34 Tho' Gods assembled grace his tow'ring height,
35 Than what more humble mountains offer here,
36 Where, in their blessings, all those Gods appear.
37 See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd,
38 Here blushing Flora paints th'enamel'd ground,
39 Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
40 And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand;
41 Rich Industry sits smiling on the plains,
42 And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.
43 Not thus the land appear'd in ages past,
44 A dreary desart and a gloomy waste,
45 To savage beasts and [Footnote: 1Kb] savage laws a prey,
46 And kings more furious and severe than they;
47 Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods,
48 The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods:
49 Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves,
50 (For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.)
51 What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd,
52 And ev'n the elements a Tyrant sway'd?
53 In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming grain,
54 Soft show'rs distill'd, and suns grew warm in vain;
55 The swain with tears his frustrate labour yields,
56 And famish'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields.
57 [Footnote: 1Kb] What wonder then, a beast or subject slain
58 Were equal crimes in a despotick reign?
59 Both doom'd alike, for sportive Tyrants bled,
60 But that the subject starv'd, the beast was fed.
[Page 70]
61 Proud Nimrod first the bloody chace began,
62 A mighty hunter, and his prey was man:
63 Our haughty Norman boasts that barb'rous name,
64 And makes his trembling slaves the royal game.
65 The [Footnote: 1Kb] fields are ravish'd from th'industrious swains,
66 From men their cities, and from Gods their fanes:
67 The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
68 The hollow winds thro' naked temples roar;
69 Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd;
70 O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind;
71 The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires,
72 [Footnote: 1Kb] And savage howlings fill the sacred quires.
73 Aw'd by his Nobles, by his Commons curst,
74 Th'Oppressor rul'd tyrannic where he durst,
75 Stretch'd o'er the Poor and Church his iron rod,
76 And serv'd alike his Vassals and his God.
77 Whom ev'n the Saxon spar'd, and bloody Dane,
78 The wanton victims of his sport remain.
[Page 71]
79 But see, the man who spacious regions gave
80 A waste for beasts, himself deny'd a grave!
81 Stretch'd on the lawn, his [Footnote: 1Kb] second hope survey,
82 At once the chaser, and at once the prey:
83 Lo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
84 Bleeds in the forest, like a wounded hart.
85 Succeeding Monarchs heard the subjects cries,
86 Nor saw displeas'd the peaceful cottage rise.
87 Then gath'ring flocks on unknown mountains fed,
88 O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread,
89 The forests wonder'd at th'unusual grain,
90 And secret transport touch'd the conscious swain.
91 [Footnote: 1Kb] Fair Liberty, Britannia's Goddess, rears
92 Her chearful head, and leads the golden years.
93 Ye vig'rous swains! while youth ferments your blood,
94 And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood,
95 Now range the hills, the thickest woods beset,
96 Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net.
97 [Footnote: 1Kb] When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds,
98 And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds,
[Page 72]
99 Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
100 Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds;
101 But when the tainted gales the game betray,
102 Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey:
103 Secure they trust th'unfaithful field, beset,
104 Till hov'ring o'er 'em sweeps the swelling net.
105 Thus (if small things we may with great compare)
106 When Albion sends her eager sons to war,
107 Some thoughtless Town, with ease and plenty blest,
108 Near, and more near, the closing lines invest;
109 Sudden they seize th'amaz'd, defenceless prize,
110 And high in air Britannia's standard flies.
111 See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
112 And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
113 Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
114 Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
115 Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes,
116 His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes,
117 The vivid green his shining plumes unfold,
118 His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
119 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky,
120 The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny.
121 To plains with well-breath'd beagles we repair,
122 And trace the mazes of the circling hare:
[Page 73]
123 (Beasts, urg'd by us, their fellow-beasts pursue,
124 And learn of man each other to undo.)
125 With slaught'ring guns th'unweary'd fowler roves,
126 When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves;
127 Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade,
128 And lonely woodcocks haunt the wat'ry glade.
129 [Footnote: 1Kb] He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye;
130 Strait a short thunder breaks the frozen sky:
131 Oft', as in airy rings they skim the heath,
132 The clam'rous plovers feel the leaden death:
133 Oft', as the mounting larks their notes prepare,
134 They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
135 In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade,
136 Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
137 The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
138 Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
139 With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly breed,
140 And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed.
141 Our plenteous streams a various race supply,
142 The bright-ey'd perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
143 The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd,
144 The yellow carp, in scales bedrop'd with gold,
145 Swift trouts, diversify'd with crimson stains,
146 And pykes, the tyrants of the watry plains.
[Page 74]
147 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car;
148 The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,
149 Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround,
150 Rouze the fleet hart, and chear the opening hound.
151 Th'impatient courser pants in ev'ry vein,
152 And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain;
153 Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd,
154 And e'er he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
155 See! the bold youth strain up the threat'ning steep,
156 Rush thro' the thickets, down the valleys sweep,
157 Hang o'er their coursers heads with eager speed,
158 And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
159 Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
160 Th'immortal huntress, and her virgin-train;
161 Nor envy, Windsor! since thy shades have seen
162 As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a Queen;
163 Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign,
164 The Earth's fair light, and Empress of the main.
165 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here, as old bards have sung, Diana stray'd,
166 Bath'd in the springs, or sought the cooling shade;
[Page 75]
167 Here arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn,
168 Her buskin'd Virgins trac'd the dewy lawn.
169 Above the rest a rural nymph was fam'd,
170 Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona nam'd;
171 (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
172 The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last.)
173 Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph be known,
174 But by the crescent and the golden zone.
175 She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care,
176 A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair,
177 A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,
178 And with her dart the flying deer she wounds.
179 It chanc'd, as eager of the chace, the maid
180 Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd,
181 Pan saw and lov'd, and burning with desire
182 Pursu'd her flight, her flight increas'd his fire.
183 Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
184 When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
185 Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
186 When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves;
187 As from the God she flew with furious pace,
188 Or as the God, more furious, urg'd the chace.
189 Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears;
190 Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears;
191 And now his shadow reach'd her as she run,
192 His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun;
193 And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
194 Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
195 In vain on father Thames she call'd for aid,
196 Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid.
[Page 76]
197 Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain;
198 "Ah Cynthia! ah---tho' banish'd from thy train,
199 "Let me, O let me, to the shades repair,
200 "My native shades---there weep, and murmur there.
201 She said, and melting as in tears she lay,
202 In a soft, silver stream dissolv'd away.
203 The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
204 For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
205 Still bears the [Footnote: 1Kb] name the hapless virgin bore,
206 And bathes the forest where she rang'd before.
207 In her chaste current oft' the Goddess laves,
208 And with celestial tears augments the waves.
209 Oft' in her glass the musing shepherd spies
210 The headlong mountains and the downward skies,
211 The watry landskip of the pendant woods,
212 And absent trees that tremble in the floods;
213 In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,
214 And floating forests paint the waves with green.
215 Thro' the fair scene rowl slow the ling'ring streams,
216 Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.
217 Thou too, great father of the British floods!
218 With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods;
219 Where tow'ring oaks their spreading honours rear,
220 And future navies on thy shores appear.
221 Not Neptune's self from all his streams receives
222 A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives.
[Page 77]
223 No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
224 No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.
225 Not fabled Po more swells the poet's lays,
226 While thro' the skies his shining current strays,
227 Than thine, which visits Windsor's fam'd abodes,
228 To grace the mansion of our earthly Gods:
229 Nor all his stars a brighter lustre show,
230 Than the fair nymphs that grace thy side below:
231 Here Jove himself, subdu'd by beauty still,
232 Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
233 [Footnote: 1Kb] Happy the man whom this bright Court approves,
234 His Sov'reign favours, and his Country loves:
235 Happy next him, who to these shades retires,
236 Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires;
237 Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please,
238 Successive study, exercise, and ease.
239 He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
240 And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields:
241 With chymic art exalts the min'ral pow'rs,
242 And draws the aromatic souls of flow'rs:
243 Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
244 O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his eye:
245 Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
246 Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er:
[Page 78]
247 Or wand'ring thoughtful in the silent wood,
248 Attends the duties of the wise and good,
249 T'observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
250 To follow nature, and regard his end;
251 Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal eyes,
252 Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
253 Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
254 Survey the region, and confess her home!
255 Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd,
256 Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus retir'd.
257 Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess,
258 Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,
259 Bear me, oh bear me to sequester'd scenes,
260 The bow'ry mazes, and surrounding greens;
261 To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,
262 Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's hill.
263 (On Cooper's hill eternal wreaths shall grow,
264 While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow)
265 I seem thro' consecrated walks to rove,
266 I hear soft music die along the grove;
267 Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade,
268 By god-like Poets venerable made:
269 Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;
270 There the last numbers flow'd from [Footnote: 1Kb] Cowley's tongue.
271 O early lost! what tears the river shed,
272 When the sad pomp along his banks was led?
[Page 79]
273 [Footnote: 1Kb] His drooping swans on ev'ry note expire,
274 And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre.
275 Since fate relentless stop'd their heav'nly voice,
276 No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;
277 Who now shall charm the shades, where Cowley strung
278 His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?
279 But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
280 Are these reviv'd? or is it Granville sings?
281 'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats,
282 And call the Muses to their ancient seats;
283 To paint anew the flow'ry sylvan scenes,
284 To crown the forests with immortal greens,
285 Make Windsor-hills in lofty numbers rise,
286 And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
287 To sing those honours you deserve to wear,
288 And add new lustre to her silver star. [Footnote: 1Kb]
289 Here noble [Footnote: 1Kb] Surrey felt the sacred rage,
290 Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
[Page 80]
291 Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance,
292 Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance:
293 In the same shades the Cupids tun'd his lyre,
294 To the same notes, of love, and soft desire:
295 Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
296 Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Myra now.
297 Oh would'st thou sing what Heroes Windsor bore,
298 What Kings first breath'd upon her winding shore,
299 Or raise old warriours, whose ador'd remains
300 In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!
301 With [Footnote: 1Kb] Edward's acts adorn the shining page,
302 Stretch his long triumphs down thro' ev'ry age,
303 Draw Monarchs chain'd, and Cressi's glorious field,
304 The lillies blazing on the regal shield:
305 Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall,
306 And leave inanimate the naked wall,
307 Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear,
308 And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
309 Let softer strains ill-fated [Footnote: 1Kb] Henry mourn,
310 And palms eternal flourish round his urn.
311 Here o'er the martyr-King the marble weeps,
312 And fast beside him, once-fear'd [Footnote: 1Kb] Edward sleeps:
313 Whom not th'extended Albion could contain,
314 From old Belerium to the northern main,
[Page 81]
315 The grave unites; where ev'n the Great find rest,
316 And blended lie th'oppressor and th'opprest!
317 Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known,
318 (Obscure the place, and un-inscrib'd the stone)
319 Oh fact accurst! what tears has Albion shed,
320 Heav'ns, what new wounds! and how her old have bled?
321 She saw her sons with purple deaths expire,
322 Her sacred domes involv'd in rolling fire,
323 A dreadful series of intestine wars,
324 Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars.
325 At length great Anna said---"Let Discord cease!"
326 She said, the World obey'd, and all was Peace!
327 In that blest moment, from his oozy bed
328 [Footnote: 1Kb] Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head.
329 His tresses drop'd with dews, and o'er the stream
330 His shining horns diffus'd a golden gleam:
331 Grav'd on his urn, appear'd the Moon that guides
332 His swelling waters, and alternate tydes;
[Page 82]
333 The figur'd streams in waves of silver roll'd,
334 And on their banks Augusta rose in gold.
335 Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
336 Who swell with tributary urns his flood:
337 First the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
338 The winding Isis and the fruitful Tame:
339 The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd;
340 The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd;
341 Cole, whose clear streams his flow'ry islands lave;
342 And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
343 The blue, transparent Vandalis appears;
344 The gulphy Lee his sedgy tresses rears;
345 And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
346 And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood.
347 High in the midst, upon his urn reclin'd,
348 (His sea-green mantle waving with the wind)
349 The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes
350 Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise;
351 Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar,
352 And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore.
353 Hail, sacred Peace! hail long-expected days,
354 That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise!
355 Tho' Tyber's streams immortal Rome behold,
356 Tho' foaming Hermus swells with tydes of gold,
357 From heav'n itself tho' sev'n-fold Nilus flows,
358 And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;
359 These now no more shall be the Muse's themes,
360 Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.
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361 Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine,
362 And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
363 Let barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train;
364 Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.
365 No more my sons shall dye with British blood
366 Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood;
367 Safe on my shore each unmolested swain
368 Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;
369 The shady empire shall retain no trace
370 Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace;
371 The trumpet sleep, while chearful horns are blown,
372 And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
373 Behold! th'ascending Villa's on my side,
374 Project long shadows o'er the crystal tyde.
375 Behold! Augusta's glitt'ring spires increase,
376 And temples rise, the beauteous works of Peace.
377 I see, I see where two fair cities bend
378 Their ample bow, a new White-ball ascend!
379 There mighty nations shall enquire their doom,
380 The world's great Oracle in times to come;
381 There Kings shall sue, and suppliant States be seen
382 Once more to bend before a British Queen.
383 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods,
384 And half thy forests rush into my floods,
[Page 84]
385 Bear Britain's thunder, and her Cross display,
386 To the bright regions of the rising day;
387 Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,
388 Where clearer flames glow round the frozen Pole;
389 Or under southern skies exalt their sails,
390 Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales!
391 For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
392 The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
393 The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
394 And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.
395 The time shall come, when free as seas or wind
396 Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
397 Whole nations enter with each swelling tyde,
398 And seas but join the regions they divide;
399 Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
400 And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
401 Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tyde,
402 And feather'd people croud my wealthy side,
403 And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
404 Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!
405 Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
406 'Till Conquest cease, and slav'ry be no more;
407 'Till the freed Indians in their native groves
408 Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves,
409 Peru once more a race of Kings behold,
410 And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.
411 Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,
412 In brazen bonds shall barb'rous Discord dwell:
[Page 85]
413 Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
414 And mad Ambition, shall attend her there:
415 There purple Vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
416 Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:
417 There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel,
418 And Persecution mourn her broken wheel:
419 There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
420 And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.
421 Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
422 Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
423 The thoughts of Gods let Granville's verse recite,
424 And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.
425 My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,
426 Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains,
427 Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
428 And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
429 Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
430 Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise;
431 Enough for me, that to the list'ning swains
432 First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.
[Page 87]
ODE ON St. CECILIA's Day, 1708. AND OTHER PIECES for MUSIC.
[Page 89]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: ODE for MUSIC ON St. CECILIA's Day. [from The Works (1736)]
I.
1 Descend ye Nine! descend and sing;
2 The breathing instruments inspire,
3 Wake into voice each silent string,
4 And sweep the sounding lyre!
5 In a sadly-pleasing strain
6 Let the warbling lute complain:
7 Let the loud trumpet sound,
8 'Till the roofs all around
9 The shrill echo's rebound:
10 While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
11 The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
12 Hark! the numbers, soft and clear,
13 Gently steal upon the ear;
14 Now louder, and yet louder rise,
15 And fill with spreading sounds the skies;
16 Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
17 In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats;
[Page 90]
18 'Till, by degrees, remote and small,
19 The strains decay,
20 And melt away,
21 In a dying, dying fall.
II.
22 By Music, minds an equal temper know,
23 Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
24 If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
25 Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
26 Or when the soul is press'd with cares,
27 Exalts her in enlivening airs.
28 Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
29 Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
30 Melancholy lifts her head,
31 Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
32 Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
33 List'ning Envy drops her snakes;
34 Intestine war no more our Passions wage,
35 And giddy Factions hear away their rage.
III.
36 But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms,
37 How martial music ev'ry bosom warms!
38 So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas,
39 High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,
40 While Argo saw her kindred trees
41 Descend from Pelion to the main.
42 Transported demi-gods stood round,
43 And men grew heroes at the sound,
[Page 91]
44 Enflam'd with glory's charms:
45 Each chief his sev'nfold shield display'd,
46 And half unsheath'd the shining blade:
47 And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
48 To arms, to arms, to arms!
IV.
49 But when thro' all th'infernal bounds
50 Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds,
51 Love, strong as Death, the Poet led
52 To the pale nations of the dead,
53 What sounds were heard,
54 What scenes appear'd,
55 O'er all the dreary coasts!
56 Dreadful gleams,
57 Dismal screams,
58 Fires that glow,
59 Shrieks of woe,
60 Sullen moans,
61 Hollow groans,
62 And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
63 But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
64 And see! the tortur'd ghosts respire,
65 See, shady forms advance!
66 Thy stone, O Sysiphus, stands still,
67 Ixion rests upon his wheel,
68 And the pale spectres dance!
69 The Furies sink upon their iron beds,
70 And snakes uncurl'd hang list'ning round their heads.
[Page 92]
V.
70 By the streams that ever flow,
71 By the fragrant winds that blow
72 O'er th'Elysian flow'rs,
73 By those happy souls who dwell
74 In yellow meads of Asphodel,
75 Or Amaranthine bow'rs,
76 By the hero's armed shades,
77 Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades,
78 By the youths that dy'd for love,
79 Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
80 Restore, restore Eurydice to life;
81 Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
82 He sung, and hell consented
83 To hear the Poet's pray'r;
84 Stern Proserpine relented,
85 And gave him back the fair.
86 Thus song could prevail
87 O'er death and o'er hell,
88 A conquest how hard and how glorious?
89 Tho' fate had fast bound her
90 With Styx nine times round her,
91 Yet music and love were victorious.
VI.
92 But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:
93 Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
94 How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
95 No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
[Page 93]
96 Now under hanging mountains,
97 Beside the falls of fountains,
98 Or where Hebrus wanders,
99 Rolling in Mæanders,
100 All alone,
101 Unheard, unknown,
102 He makes his moan;
103 And calls her ghost,
104 For ever, ever, ever lost!
105 Now with Furies surrounded,
106 Despairing, confounded,
107 He trembles, he glows,
108 Amidst Rhodope's snows:
109 See, wild as the winds, o'er the desart he flies;
110 Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals cries---
111 ---Ah see, he dies!
112 Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung,
113 Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,
114 Eurydice the woods,
115 Eurydice the floods,
116 Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.
VII.
118 Music the fiercest grief can charm,
119 And fate's severest rage disarm:
120 Music can soften pain to ease,
121 And make despair and madness please:
122 Our joys below it can improve,
123 And antedate the bliss above.
[Page 94]
124 This the divine Cecilia found,
125 And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound.
126 When the full organ joins the tuneful quire,
127 Th'immortal pow'rs incline their ear;
128 Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
129 While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;
130 And Angels lean from heav'n to hear.
131 Of Orpheus now no more let Poets tell,
132 To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n;
133 His numbers rais'd a shade from hell,
134 Hers lift the soul to heav'n.
[Page 95]
Two CHORUS's to the Tragedy of Brutus.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Chorus of Athenians. [from The Works (1736)]
Strophe 1.
1 Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought;
2 Groves, where immortal Sages taught;
3 Where heav'nly visions Plato fir'd,
4 And Epicurus lay inspir'd!
5 In vain your guiltless laurels stood
6 Unspotted long with human blood.
7 War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
8 And steel now glitters in the Muses shades.
Antistrophe 1.
9 Oh heav'n-born sisters! source of art!
10 Who charm the sense, or mend the heart;
11 Who lead fair Virtue's train along,
12 Moral Truth, and mystic Song!
13 To what new clime, what distant sky,
14 Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly?
15 Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore?
16 Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?
[Page 96]
Strophe 2.
17 When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
18 When wild Barbarians spurn her dust;
19 Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost shore
20 Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore,
21 See Arts her savage sons controul,
22 An Athens rising near the pole!
23 'Till some new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
24 And civil madness tears them from the land.
Antistrophe 2.
25 Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball?
26 Freedom and Arts together fall;
27 Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
28 And men, once ignorant, are slaves.
29 Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,
30 In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!
31 Still, when the lust of tyrant pow'r succeeds,
32 Some Athens perishes, some Tully bleeds.
[Page 97]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Chorus of Youths and Virgins. [from The Works (1736)]
Semichorus.
1 Oh Tyrant Love! hast thou possest
2 The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast?
3 Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
4 And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame.
5 Love, soft intruder, enters here,
6 But entring learns to be sincere.
7 Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
8 And Brutus tenderly reproves.
9 Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire,
10 Which nature has imprest?
11 Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire
12 The mild and gen'rous breast?
Chorus.
13 Love's purer flames the Gods approve;
14 The Gods and Brutus bend to love:
15 Brutus for absent Portia sighs,
16 And sterner Cassius melts at Junia's eyes.
17 What is loose love? a transient gust,
18 Spent in a sudden storm of lust,
19 A vapour fed from wild desire,
20 A wand'ring, self-consuming fire.
[Page 98]
21 But Hymen's kinder flames unite;
22 And burn for ever one;
23 Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
24 Productive as the Sun.
Semichorus.
25 Oh source of ev'ry social tye,
26 United wish, and mutual joy!
27 What various joys on one attend,
28 As son, as father, brother, husband, friend?
29 Whether his hoary sire he spies,
30 While thousand grateful thoughts arise;
31 Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;
32 Or views his smiling progeny;
33 What tender passions take their turns,
34 What home felt raptures move?
35 His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
36 With rev'rence, hope, and love.
Chorus.
37 Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmizes,
38 Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
39 Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes;
40 Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:
41 Purest love's unwasting treasure,
42 Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure,
43 Days of ease, and nights of pleasure;
44 Sacred Hymen! these are thine.
[Page 99]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: ODE on Solitude. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Happy the man, whose wish and care
2 A few paternal acres bound,
3 Content to breathe his native air,
4 In his own ground.
5 Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
6 Whose flocks supply him with attire,
7 Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
8 In winter fire.
9 Blest, who can unconcern'dly find,
10 Hours, days and years slide soft away,
11 In health of body, peace of mind,
12 Quiet by day,
13 Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
14 Together mixt; sweet recreation;
15 And innocence which most does please,
16 With meditation.
17 Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
18 Thus unlamented let me die,
19 Steal from the world, and not a stone
20 Tell where I lie.
[Page 100]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Dying Christian to his Soul,
ODE. [from The Works (1736)]
I
1 Vital spark of heav'nly flame!
2 Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
3 Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
4 Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
5 Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
6 And let me languish into life.
II
7 Hark! they whisper; Angels say,
8 Sister Spirit, come away.
9 What is this absorbs me quite?
10 Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
11 Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
12 Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?
III
13 The world recedes; it disappears!
14 Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
15 With sounds seraphic ring:
16 Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
17 O Grave! where is thy Victory?
18 O Death! where is thy Sting?
[Page 101]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.
Written in the Year 1709.
[from The Works (1736)]
[Page 103]
THE CONTENTS OF THE Essay on Criticism.
PART I.
1. That 'tis as great a fault to judge ill, as to
write-ill, and a more dangerous one to the public.
2. The variety of men's Tastes; of a true Taste, how rare to be found.
3. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoil'd by false education.
4. The multitude of Critics, and causes of 'em.
5. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it.
6. Nature the best guide of Judgment.
7. Improv'd by Art, and Rules, which are but methodiz'd Nature.
8. Rules deriv'd from the Practice of the ancient Poets.
9. That therefore the Ancients are necessary to be
study'd by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil.
10. Of Licenses, and the use of 'em by the Ancients.
11. Reverence due to the Ancients, and praise of 'em.
[Page 104]
PART II. Ver. 204, &c.
Causes hind'ring a true Judgment, 1. Pride. 2. Imperfect
Learning. 3. Judging by parts, and not by
the whole: Critics in Wit, Language, Versification,
only. 4. Being too hard to please, or too apt to admire.
5. Too much Love to a Sect,---to the Ancients
or Moderns. 6. Prejudice, or Prevention. 7. Singularity.
8. Inconstancy. 9. Partiality. 10. Envy.
Against Envy, and in praise of Good-nature. When
Severity is chiefly to be used by Critics? Against Immorality
and Obscenity.
PART III. Ver. 565, &c.
Rules for the Conduct of Manners in a Critic. Candour,
Modesty, Good-breeding, Sincerity and Freedom
of Advice. When one's Counsel is to be restrain'd?
Character of an incorrigible Poet.---And of an impertinent
Critic. The Character of a good Critic. The
History of Criticism, and Characters of the best Critics.
Aristotle, Horace, Dionysius, Petronius, Quintilian, Longinus.
Of the Decay of Criticism, and its Revival.---
Erasmus, Vida, Boileau, Lord Roscommon, &c.---
Conclusion.
[Page 105]
1 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
2 Appear in writing or in judging ill;
3 But, of the two, less dang'rous is th'offence
4 To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
5 Some few in that, but numbers err in this,
6 Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
7 A fool might once himself alone expose,
8 Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
9 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
10 Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
11 In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
12 True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
13 Both must alike from heav'n derive their light,
14 These born to judge, as well as those to write.
[Page 106]
15 Let [Footnote: 1Kb] such teach others who themselves excel,
16 And censure freely who have written well.
17 Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
18 But are not Critics to their judgment too?
19 Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
20 Most [Footnote: 1Kb] have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
21 Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
22 The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.
23 But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac'd,
24 Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd,
25 [Footnote: 1Kb] So by false learning is good sense defac'd:
26 Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
27 And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.
28 In search of wit these lose their common sense,
29 And then turn Critics in their own defence:
30 Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,
31 Or with a Rival's, or an Eunuch's spite.
[Page 107]
32 All fools have still an itching to deride,
33 And fain would be upon the laughing side.
34 If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spight,
35 There are, who judge still worse than he can write.
36 Some have at first for Wits, then Poets past,
37 Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last.
38 Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
39 As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
40 Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle,
41 As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
42 Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
43 Their generation's so equivocal:
44 To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require,
45 Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
46 But you who seek to give and merit fame,
47 And justly bear a Critic's noble name,
48 Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
49 How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
50 Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
51 And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
52 Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
53 And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
54 As on the land while here the Ocean gains,
55 In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
56 Thus in the soul while memory prevails,
57 The solid pow'r of understanding fails;
58 Where beams of warm imagination play,
59 The memory's soft figures melt away.
60 One science only will one genius fit;
61 So vast is art, so narrow human wit:
[Page 108]
62 Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
63 But oft' in those confin'd to single parts.
64 Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
65 By vain ambition still to make them more;
66 Each might his sev'ral province well command,
67 Would all but stoop to what they understand.
68 First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
69 By her just standard, which is still the same:
70 Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
71 One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
72 Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
73 At once the source, and end, and test of art.
74 Art from that fund each just supply provides,
75 Works without show, and without pomp presides:
76 In some fair body thus th'informing soul
77 With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
78 Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains;
79 Itself unseen, but in th'effects, remains.
80 There are whom heav'n has blest with store of wit,
81 Yet want as much again to manage it;
82 For wit and judgment ever are at strife,
83 Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
84 'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed;
85 Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
86 The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
87 Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
88 Those Rules of old discover'd, not devis'd,
89 Are nature still, but nature methodiz'd;
90 Nature, like Monarchy, is but restrain'd
91 By the same laws which first herself ordain'd.
[Page 109]
92 Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites,
93 When to repress, and when indulge our flights!
94 High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd,
95 And pointed out those arduous paths they trod,
96 Held from afar, aloft, th'immortal prize,
97 And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise.
98 Just [Footnote: 1Kb] precepts thus from great examples giv'n,
99 She drew from them what they deriv'd from heav'n.
100 The gen'rous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire,
101 And taught the world with reason to admire.
102 Then Criticism the Muses handmaid prov'd,
103 To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd:
104 But following wits from that intention stray'd,
105 Who cou'd not win the mistress, woo'd the maid;
106 Against the Poets their own arms they turn'd,
107 Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd.
108 So modern 'Pothecaries, taught the art
109 By Doctor's bills to play the Doctor's part,
110 Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
111 Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
112 Some on the leaves of antient authors prey,
113 Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they.
114 Some drily plain, without invention's aid,
115 Write dull receits how poems may be made.
[Page 110]
116 These lose the sense, their learning to display,
117 And those explain the meaning quite away.
118 You then whose judgment the right course would steer,
119 Know well each Ancient's proper character;
120 His Fable, Subject, scope in every page;
121 Religion, Country, genius of his Age:
122 Without all these at once before your eyes,
123 Cavil you may, but never criticize.
124 [Footnote: 1Kb] Be Homer's works your study, and delight,
125 Read them by day, and meditate by night;
126 Thence form your judgment, thence your notions bring,
127 And trace the Muses upward to their spring.
128 Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse;
129 Or let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.
130 [Footnote: 1Kb] When first young Maro sung of Kings and wars,
131 [Footnote: 1Kb] E'er warning Phoebus touch'd his trembling ears,
[Page 111]
132 Perhaps he seem'd above the Critic's law,
133 And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw:
134 But when t'examine ev'ry part he came,
135 Nature and Homer were, he found, the same:
136 Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold design;
137 And rules as strict his labour'd work confine,
138 [Footnote: 1Kb] As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line.
139 Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
140 To copy nature is to copy them.
141 Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
142 For there's a happiness as well as care.
143 Music resembles Poetry, in each
144 Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
145 And which a master-hand alone can reach.
146 If, [Footnote: 1Kb] where the rules not far enough extend,
147 (Since rules were made but to promote their end)
148 Some lucky Licence answers to the full
149 Th'intent propos'd, that Licence is a rule.
150 Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,
151 May boldly deviate from the common track.
152 Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
153 And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend,
[Page 112]
154 From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
155 And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art,
156 Which without passing thro' the judgment, gains
157 The heart, and all its end at once attains.
158 In prospects, thus, some objects please our eyes,
159 Which out of nature's common order rise,
160 The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.
161 But care in poetry must still be had,
162 It asks discretion ev'n in running mad:
163 And tho' the Ancients thus their rules invade,
164 (As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
165 Moderns beware! or if you must offend
166 Against the precept, ne'er trangress its end:
167 Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
168 And have, at least, their precedent to plead.
169 The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
170 Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
171 I know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts
172 Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults.
173 Some figures monstrous and mishap'd appear,
174 Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
175 Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place,
176 Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
177 A prudent chief not always must display
178 His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array,
179 But with th'occasion and the place comply,
180 Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly.
181 Those oft' are stratagems which errors seem,
182 Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
[Page 113]
183 Still green with bays each ancient Altar stands,
184 Above the reach of sacrilegious hands;
185 Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage,
186 Destructive war, and all-devouring age.
187 See, from each clime the learn'd their incense bring:
188 Hear, in all tongues consenting Pæans ring!
189 In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd,
190 And fill the gen'ral Chorus of mankind!
191 Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days;
192 Immortal heirs of universal praise!
193 Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
194 As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow!
195 Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
196 And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
197 Oh may some spark of your celestial fire,
198 The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
199 (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights;
200 Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes)
201 To teach vain Wits a science little known,
202 T'admire superiour sense, and doubt their own!
203 Of all the causes which conspire to blind
204 Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
205 What the weak head with strongest biass rules,
206 Is Pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
207 Whatever nature has in worth deny'd,
208 She gives in large recr[illeg.]s of needful pride;
209 For as in bodies, thus in souls we find
210 What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind:
[Page 114]
211 Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defence,
212 And fills up all the mighty void of sense.
213 If once right reason drives that cloud away,
214 Truth breaks upon us with resistless day.
215 Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,
216 Make use of ev'ry friend---and ev'ry foe.
217 A little Learning is a dang'rous thing;
218 Drink deep, or taste not the Piërian spring:
219 There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
220 And drinking largely sobers us again.
221 Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
222 In fearless youth we tempt the heights of Arts,
223 While from the bounded level of our mind,
224 Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind,
225 But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprize
226 New distant scenes of endless science rise!
227 [Footnote: 1Kb] So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we try,
228 Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky,
229 Th'eternal snows appear already past,
230 And the first clouds and mountains seem the last:
231 But those attain'd, we tremble to survey
232 The growing labours of the lengthen'd way,
233 Th'increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes,
234 Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
[Page 115]
235 [Footnote: 1Kb] A perfect Judge will read each work of wit,
236 With the same spirit that its author writ,
237 Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to find
238 Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;
239 Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight,
240 The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.
241 But in such lays as neither ebb, nor flow,
242 Correctly cold, and regularly low,
243 That shunning faults, one quiet tenour keep;
244 We cannot blame indeed---but we may sleep.
245 In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts
246 Is not th'exactness of peculiar parts;
247 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
248 But the joint force and full result of all.
249 Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome,
250 (The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!)
251 No single parts unequally surprize,
252 All comes united to th'admiring eyes;
253 No monstrous height, or breadth, or length appear;
254 The Whole at once is bold, and regular.
255 Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
256 Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
257 In ev'ry work regard the writer's End,
258 Since none can compass more than they intend;
259 And if the means be just, the conduct true,
260 Applause, in spight of trivial faults, is due.
[Page 116]
261 As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit,
262 T'avoid great errors, must the less commit.
263 Neglect the rules each verbal Critic lays,
264 For not to know some trifles, is a praise.
265 Most Critics, fond of some subservient art,
266 Still make the whole depend upon a part:
267 They talk of principles, but notions prize,
268 And all to one lov'd Folly sacrifice.
269 Once on a time, La Mancha's Knight, they say,
270 A certain Bard encount'ring on the way,
271 Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as sage,
272 As e'er could Dennis, of the laws o'th' stage;
273 Concluding all were desp'rate sots and fools,
274 Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules.
275 Our author, happy in a judge so nice,
276 Produc'd his Play, and begg'd the Knight's advice;
277 Made him observe the subject and the plot,
278 The manners, passions, unities; what not?
279 All which, exact to rule, were brought about,
280 Were but a Combate in the lists left out.
281 "What! leave the combate out?" exclaims the knight;
282 Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.
283 "Not so by heav'n" (he answers in a rage)
284 "Knights, squires, and steeds, must enter on the stage."
285 The stage can ne'er so vast a throng contain.
286 "Then build a new, or act it in a Plain.
287 Thus Critics, of less judgment than caprice,
288 Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice,
289 Form short Ideas; and offend in arts
290 (As most in manners) by a love to parts.
[Page 117]
291 Some to Conceit alone their taste confine,
292 And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;
293 Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;
294 One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.
295 Poets like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
296 The naked nature and the living grace,
297 With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,
298 And hide with Ornaments their want of art.
299 True [Footnote: 1Kb] wit is nature to advantage dress'd,
300 What oft' was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;
301 Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
302 That gives us back the image of our mind.
303 As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
304 So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit:
305 For works may have more wit than does 'em good,
306 As bodies perish thro' excess of blood.
307 Others for Language all their care express,
308 And value books, as women men, for Dress:
309 Their praise is still, the Style is excellent:
310 The Sense, they humbly take upon content.
311 Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
312 Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
313 False Eloquence, like the Prismatic glass,
314 Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place;
315 The face of nature we no more survey,
316 All glares alike, without distinction gay:
[Page 118]
317 But true Expression, like th'unchanging Sun,
318 Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon,
319 It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
320 Expression is the dress of thought, and still
321 Appears more decent, as more suitable;
322 A vile conceit in pompous words express'd,
323 Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:
324 For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,
325 As several garbs with country, town, and court.
326 Some [Footnote: 1Kb] by old words to fame have made pretence:
327 Ancients in phrase, meer moderns in their sense!
328 Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
329 Amaze th'unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.
330 Unlucky, as Fungoso in the [Footnote: 1Kb] Play,
331 These sparks with aukward vanity display
332 What the fine Gentleman wore yesterday,
333 And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
334 As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.
335 In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;
336 Alike fantastic, if too new, or old;
[Page 119]
337 Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
338 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
339 [Footnote: 1Kb] But most by Numbers judge a Poet's song,
340 And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong;
341 In the bright Muse tho' thousand charms conspire,
342 Her Voice is all these tuneful fools admire;
343 Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear,
344 Not mend their minds; as some to Church repair,
345 Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
346 These equal syllables alone require,
347 Tho' [Footnote: 1Kb] oft' the ear the open vowels tire;
348 While expletives their feeble aid do join;
349 And ten low words oft' creep in one dull line;
350 While they ring round the same unvary'd chimes,
351 With sure returns of still-expected rhymes.
352 Where-e'er you find the cooling western breeze,
353 In the next line, it whispers thro' the trees;
354 If crystal streams with pleasing murmurs creep,
355 The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with sleep.
356 Then, at the last and only couplet fraught
357 With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
[Page 120]
358 A needless Alexandrine ends the song,
359 That like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
360 Leave such to tune their own dull rhimes, and know
361 What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
362 And praise the easy vigour of a line,
363 Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join.
364 True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
365 As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
366 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
367 The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
368 Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
369 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;
370 But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
371 The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.
372 When Ajax strives, some rock's vast weight to throw,
373 The line too labours, and the words move slow;
374 Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
375 Flies o'er th'unbending corn, and skims along the main.
376 Hear how [Footnote: 1Kb] Timotheus' vary'd lays surprize,
377 And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
378 While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove
379 Now burns with glory, and then melts with love:
380 Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
381 Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
382 Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
383 And the World's victor stood subdu'd by Sound!
[Page 121]
384 The pow'r of Music all our hearts allow;
385 And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
386 Avoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such,
387 Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
388 At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,
389 That always shows great pride, or little sense;
390 Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,
391 Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
392 Yet let not each gay Turn thy rapture move,
393 For fools admire, but men of sense approve.
394 As things seem large which we thro' mists descry,
395 Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
396 Some the French writers, some our own despise;
397 The Ancients only, or the Moderns prize.
398 (Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is apply'd
399 To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.)
400 Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
401 And force that sun but on a part to shine,
402 Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,
403 But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
404 Which from the first has shone on ages past,
405 Enlights the present, and shall warm the last:
406 (Tho' each may feel encreases and decays,
407 And see now clearer and now darker days)
408 Regard not then if wit be old or new,
409 But blame the false, and value still the true.
410 Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
411 But catch the spreading notion of the town;
412 They reason and conclude by precedent,
413 And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
[Page 122]
414 Some judge of authors names, not works, and then
415 Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
416 Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
417 That in proud dulness joins with Quality,
418 A constant Critic at the great man's board,
419 To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.
420 What woful stuff this madrigal would be,
421 In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?
422 But let a Lord once own the happy lines,
423 How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
424 Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,
425 And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
426 The Vulgar thus through Imitation err;
427 As oft' the Learn'd by being singular;
428 So much they scorn the croud, that if the throng
429 By chance go right, they purposely go wrong:
430 So Schismatics the plain believers quit,
431 And are but damn'd for having too much wit.
432 Some praise at morning what they blame at night;
433 But always think the last opinion right.
434 A Muse by these is like a mistress us'd,
435 This hour she's idoliz'd, the next abus'd;
436 While their weak heads, like towns unfortify'd,
437 'Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side.
438 Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say;
439 And still to-morrow's wiser than to-day.
440 We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
441 Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.
442 Once School-divines this zealous isle o'er-spread;
443 Who knew most Sentences, was deepest read;
[Page 123]
444 Faith, Gospel, all, seem'd made to be disputed,
445 And none had sense enough to be confuted:
446 Scotists and Thomists, now, in peace remain,
447 [Footnote: 1Kb] Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.
448 If Faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn,
449 [Footnote: 1Kb] What wonder Modes in Wit should take their turn?
450 Oft', leaving what is natural and fit,
451 The current folly proves the ready wit;
452 And authors think their reputation safe,
453 Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.
454 Some valuing those of their own side or mind,
455 Still make themselves the measure of mankind:
456 Fondly we think we honour merit then,
457 When we but praise our selves in other men.
458 Parties in Wit attend on those of State,
459 And publick faction doubles private hate.
[Page 124]
460 Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose,
461 In various shapes of Parsons, Critics, Beaus;
462 But sense surviv'd, when merry jests were past;
463 For rising merit will buoy up at last.
464 Might he return, and bless once more our eyes,
465 New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise:
466 Nay should great Homer lift his awful head,
467 Zoilus again would start up from the dead.
468 Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue;
469 But like a shadow, proves the substance true;
470 For envy'd Wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known
471 Th'opposing body's grossness, not its own.
472 When first that sun too pow'rful beams displays,
473 It draws up vapours which obscure its rays;
474 But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way,
475 Reflect new glories, and augment the day.
476 Be thou the first true merit to befriend,
477 His praise is lost, who stays 'till all commend.
478 Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes,
479 And 'tis but just to let 'em live betimes.
480 No longer now that golden age appears,
481 When Patriarch-wits surviv'd a thousand years:
482 Now length of fame (our second life) is lost,
483 And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast:
484 Our sons their fathers failing language see,
485 And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be.
486 So when the faithful pencil has design'd
487 Some bright Idea of the master's mind,
488 Where a new world leaps out at his command,
489 And ready nature waits upon his hand;
[Page 125]
490 When the ripe colours soften and unite,
491 And sweetly melt into just shade and light,
492 When mellowing years their full perfection give,
493 And each bold figure just begins to live;
494 [Footnote: 1Kb] The treach'rous colours the fair art betray,
495 And all the bright creation fades away!
496 Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things,
497 Attones not for that envy which it brings.
498 In youth alone its empty praise we boast,
499 But soon the short-liv'd vanity is lost!
500 [Footnote: 1Kb] Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies,
501 That gayly blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies.
502 What is this wit, which must our cares employ?
503 The owner's wife, that other men enjoy;
504 The most our trouble still when most admir'd;
505 The more we give, the more is still requir'd;
506 The fame with pains we gain, but lose with ease;
507 Sure some to vex, but never all to please;
508 'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun,
509 By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone!
510 If wit so much from ign'rance undergo,
511 Ah let not learning too commence its foe!
512 Of old, those met rewards who could excel,
513 And such were prais'd who but endeavour'd well:
514 Tho' Triumphs were to Gen'rals only due,
515 Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too.
[Page 126]
516 Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown,
517 Employ their pains to spurn some others down;
518 And while self-love each jealous writer rules,
519 Contending wits become the sport of fools.
520 But still the worst with most regret commend,
521 For each ill Author is as bad a Friend.
522 To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
523 Are mortals urg'd thro' sacred Lust of praise!
524 Ah ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast,
525 Nor in the Critic let the Man be lost!
526 Good-nature and good-sense must ever join;
527 To err is humane, to forgive, divine.
528 But if in noble minds some dregs remain,
529 Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain;
530 Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes,
531 Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.
532 No pardon vile Obscenity should find,
533 Tho' wit and art conspire to move your mind;
534 But Dulness with obscenity must prove
535 As shameful sure as Impotence in love.
536 In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,
537 Sprung the rank weed, and thriv'd with large increase;
538 When Love was all an easy Monarch's care;
539 Seldom at council, never in a war:
540 Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen Farces writ;
541 Nay wits had pensions, and young Lords had wit:
542 The Fair sate panting at a Courtier's play,
543 And not a Mask went unimprov'd away:
544 The modest fan was lifted up no more,
545 And Virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before.
[Page 127]
546 The following licence of a Foreign reign
547 Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;
548 [Footnote: 1Kb] Then unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation,
549 And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;
550 Where heav'ns free subjects might their rights dispute,
551 Lest God himself should seem too Absolute:
552 Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare,
553 And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there!
554 Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies,
555 And the Press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies.
556 These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,
557 Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!
558 Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice,
559 Will needs mistake an author into vice;
560 All seems infected that th'infected spy,
561 As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.
562 Learn then what Morals Critics ought to show,
563 For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know.
564 'Tis not enough, wit, art, and learning join;
565 In all you speak, let truth and candour shine:
566 That not alone what to your judgment's due
567 All may allow; but seek your friendship too.
568 Be silent always when you doubt your sense;
569 And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence:
[Page 128]
570 Some positive, persisting fops we know,
571 That, if once wrong, will needs be always so;
572 But you, with pleasure own your errors past,
573 And make each day a Critic on the last.
574 'Tis not enough, your counsel still be true;
575 Blunt truths more mischief than nice falshoods do;
576 Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
577 And things unknown propos'd as things forgot.
578 Without good-breeding, truth is disapprov'd;
579 That only makes superiour sense belov'd.
580 Be niggards of advice on no pretence;
581 For the worst avarice is that of sense.
582 With mean complacence ne'er betray your trust,
583 Nor be so civil as to prove unjust.
584 Fear not the anger of the wise to raise;
585 Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.
586 'Twere well might Critics still this freedom take;
587 But Appius reddens at each word you speak,
588 And stares, tremendous, with a threat'ning eye,
589 Like some fierce Tyrant in old Tapestry.
590 Fear most to tax an Honourable fool,
591 Whose right it is, uncensur'd to be dull;
592 Such without wit are Poets when they please,
593 As without learning they can take Degrees.
594 Leave dang'rous truths to unsuccessful Satyrs,
595 And flattery to fulsome Dedicators,
596 Whom, when they praise, the world believes no more,
597 Than when they promise to give scribling o'er.
598 'Tis best sometimes your censure to restrain,
599 And charitably let the dull be vain:
[Page 129]
600 Your silence there is better than your spite,
601 For who can rail so long as they can write?
602 Still humming on, their drouzy course they keep,
603 And lash'd so long, like Tops, are lash'd asleep.
604 False steps but help them to renew the race,
605 As after stumbling, Jades will mend their pace.
606 What crouds of these, impenitently bold,
607 In sounds and jingling syllables grown old,
608 Still run on Poets, in a raging vein,
609 Ev'n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain,
610 Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense,
611 And rhyme with all the rage of Impotence.
612 Such shameless Bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
613 There are as mad, abandon'd Critics too.
614 The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,
615 With loads of learned lumber in his head,
616 With his own tongue still edifies his ears,
617 And always list'ning to himself appears.
618 All books he reads, and all he reads assails,
619 From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales.
620 With him, most authors steal their works, or buy;
621 Garth did not write his own Dispensary.
622 Name a new Play, and he's the Poet's friend,
623 Nay show'd his faults---but when wou'd Poets mend?
624 No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd,
625 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's church-yard:
[Page 130]
626 Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead;
627 For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.
628 Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks,
629 It still looks home, and short excursions makes;
630 But rattling nonsense in full vollies breaks,
631 And never shock'd, and never turn'd aside,
632 Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring tyde.
633 But where's the man, who counsel can bestow,
634 Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know?
635 Unbiass'd, or by favour, or by spite;
636 Not dully prepossess'd; or blindly right;
637 Tho' learn'd, well-bred; and tho' well-bred, sincere;
638 Modestly bold, and humanly severe:
639 Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
640 And gladly praise the merit of a foe?
641 Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd;
642 A knowledge both of books and human-kind;
643 Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from pride;
644 And love to praise, with reason on his side?
645 Such once were Critics; such the happy few,
646 Athens and Rome in better ages knew.
647 The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore,
648 Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore;
649 He steer'd securely, and discover'd far,
650 [Footnote: 1Kb] Led by the light of the Mæonian Star.
[Page 131]
651 Poets, a race long unconfin'd, and free,
652 Still fond and proud of savage liberty,
653 Receiv'd his laws; and stood convinc'd 'twas fit
654 Who conquer'd Nature, should preside o'er Wit.
655 Horace still charms with graceful negligence,
656 And without method talks us into sense,
657 Will like a friend, familiarly convey
658 The truest notions in the easiest way.
659 He, who supreme in judgment, as in wit,
660 Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ,
661 Yet judg'd with coolness, tho' he sung with fire,
662 His Precepts teach but what his works inspire.
663 Our Critics take a contrary extreme,
664 They judge with fury, but they write with fle'me:
665 Nor suffers Horace more in wrong Translations
666 By Wits, than Critics in as wrong Quotations.
667 See [Footnote: 1Kb] Dionysius Homer's thoughts refine,
668 And call new beauties forth from ev'ry line!
669 Fancy and art in gay Petronius meet,
670 The scholar's learning, with the courtier's wit.
[Page 132]
671 In grave Quintilian's copious work, we find
672 The justest rules, and clearest method join'd:
673 Thus useful arms in magazines we place,
674 All rang'd in order, and dispos'd with grace;
675 Nor thus alone the curious eye to please,
676 But to be found, when need requires, with ease.
677 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire,
678 And bless their Critic with a Poet's fire.
679 An ardent judge, who zealous in his trust,
680 With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just;
681 Whose own example strengthens all his laws,
682 And is himself that great Sublime he draws.
683 Thus long succeeding Critics justly reign'd,
684 Licence repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd.
685 Learning and Rome alike in empire grew,
686 And Arts still follow'd where her Eagles flew.
687 From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom,
688 And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome.
689 With Tyranny, then Superstition join'd,
690 As that the body, this enslav'd the mind;
691 [Footnote: 1Kb] Much was believ'd, but little understood,
692 And to be dull was constru'd to be good;
[Page 133]
693 [Footnote: 1Kb] A second deluge learning thus o'er-run,
694 And the Monks finish'd what the Goths begun.
695 At length Erasmus, that great, injur'd name,
696 (The glory of the Priesthood, and the shame!)
697 Stem'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age,
698 And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.
699 But see! each Muse, in Leo's golden days,
700 Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays!
701 Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread,
702 Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head.
703 Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive;
704 Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live;
705 With sweeter notes each rising Temple rung;
706 A Raphael painted, and a [Footnote: 1Kb] Vida sung.
707 Immortal Vida! on whose honour'd brow
708 The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow:
709 Cremona now shall ever boast thy name,
710 As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!
711 But soon by impious arms from Latium chas'd,
712 Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd;
713 Thence arts o'er all the northern world advance;
714 But critic learning flourish'd most in France:
715 The rules, a nation born to serve, obeys;
716 And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.
717 But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despis'd,
718 And kept unconquer'd, and unciviliz'd,
[Page 134]
719 Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,
720 We still defy'd the Romans, as of old.
721 Yet some there were, among the sounder few
722 Of those who less presum'd, and better knew,
723 Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,
724 And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws.
725 Such was the Muse, whose rules and practice tell,
726 Nature's [Footnote: 1Kb] chief Master-piece is writing well.
727 Such was Roscommon---not more learn'd than good,
728 With manners gen'rous as his noble blood;
729 To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
730 And ev'ry author's merit but his own.
731 Such late was Walsh,---the Muse's judge and friend,
732 Who justly knew to blame or to commend;
733 To failings mild, but zealous for desert;
734 The clearest Head, and the sincerest Heart.
735 This humble praise, lamented Shade! receive,
736 This praise at least a grateful Muse may give:
737 The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing,
738 Prescrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing,
739 (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise,
740 But in low numbers short excursions tries:
741 Content, if hence th'unlearn'd their wants may view,
742 The learn'd reflect on what before they knew:
743 Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
744 Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
745 Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
746 Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
[Page 135]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE RAPE of the LOCK.
AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM. Written in the Year 1712. [from The Works (1736)]
[Footnote: 1Kb]
Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sed juvat hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.
Martial.
[Page 137]
TO Mrs. Arabella Fermor.
[Page 141]
CANTO I.
1 What dire offence from am'rous causes springs,
2 What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
3 I sing---This verse to C---, Muse! is due:
4 This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view:
5 Slight is the subject, but not so the praise,
6 If She inspire, and He approve my lays.
7 Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel
8 A well-bred Lord t'assault a gentle Belle?
9 Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd,
10 Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord?
11 [Footnote: 1Kb] In tasks so bold, can little men engage,
12 And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty Rage?
[Page 142]
13 [Footnote: 1Kb] Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray,
14 And ope'd those eyes that must eclipse the day;
15 Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake,
16 And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake:
17 Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground,
18 And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound.
19 Belinda still her downy pillow prest,
20 Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest:
21 'Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed
22 The morning-dream that hover'd o'er her head.
23 A Youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau,
24 (That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to glow)
25 Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay,
26 And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say.
27 Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care
28 Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air!
29 If e'er one Vision touch'd thy infant thought,
30 Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught;
31 Of airy Elves by moonlight shadows seen,
32 The silver token, and the circled green,
[Page 143]
33 Or virgins visited by Angel-pow'rs,
34 With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs;
35 Hear and believe! thy own importance know,
36 Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
37 Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal'd,
38 To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd:
39 What tho' no credit doubting Wits may give?
40 The Fair and Innocent shall still believe.
41 Know then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly,
42 The light Militia of the lower sky;
43 These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing,
44 Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the Ring:
45 Think what an Equipage thou hast in Air,
46 And view with scorn two Pages and a Chair.
47 As now your own, our beings were of old,
48 And once inclos'd in Woman's beauteous mold;
49 Thence, by a soft transition, we repair
50 From earthly Vehicles to these of air.
51 Think not, when Woman's transient breath is fled,
52 That all her vanities at once are dead:
53 Succeeding vanities she still regards,
54 [Footnote: 1Kb] And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards.
55 Her joy in gilded Chariots, when alive,
56 And love of Ombre, after death survive.
[Page 144]
57 For when the Fair in all their pride expire,
58 To their first Elements the Souls retire:
59 The Sprites of fiery Termagants in Flame
60 Mount up, and take a Salamander's name.
61 Soft yielding minds to Water glide away,
62 And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental Tea.
63 The graver Prude sinks downward to a Gnome,
64 In search of mischief still on Earth to roam.
65 The light Coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair,
66 And sport and flutter in the fields of Air.
67 Know farther yet; whoever fair and chaste
68 Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embrac'd:
69 For Spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
70 Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.
71 What guards the purity of melting Maids
72 In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades,
73 Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark,
74 The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,
75 When kind occasion prompts their warm desires,
76 When music softens, and when dancing fires?
77 'Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials know,
78 Tho' Honour is the word with Men below.
79 Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face,
80 For life predestin'd to the Gnomes embrace.
81 These swell their prospects and exalt their pride,
82 When offers are disdain'd, and love deny'd:
83 Then gay Ideas croud the vacant brain,
84 While Peers and Dukes, and all their sweeping train,
85 And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear,
86 And in soft sounds, Your Grace salutes their ear.
[Page 145]
87 'Tis these that early taint the female soul,
88 Instruct the eyes of young Coquettes to roll,
89 Teach Infants cheeks a bidden blush to know,
90 And little hearts to flutter at a Beau.
91 Oft' when the world imagine women stray,
92 The Sylphs thro' mystic mazes guide their way,
93 Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue,
94 And old impertinence expel by new.
95 What tender maid but must a victim fall
96 To one man's treat, but for another's ball?
97 When Florio speaks, what virgin could withstand,
98 If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand?
99 With varying vanities, from ev'ry part,
100 They shift the moving Toyshop of their heart;
101 Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive,
102 Beaus banish beaus, and coaches coaches drive.
103 This erring mortals Levity may call,
104 Oh blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it all.
105 Of these am I, who thy protection claim,
106 A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name.
107 Late, as I rang'd the crystal wilds of air,
108 In the clear Mirror of thy ruling Star
109 I saw, alas! some dread event impend,
110 E'er to the main this morning sun descend.
111 But heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where:
112 Warn'd by thy Sylph, oh pious maid, beware!
113 This to disclose is all thy guardian can.
114 Beware of all, but most beware of Man!
[Page 146]
115 He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long,
116 Leap'd up, and wak'd his mistress with his tongue.
117 'Twas then Belinda, if report say true,
118 Thy eyes first open'd on a Billet-doux;
119 Wounds, Charms, and Ardors, were no sooner read,
120 But all the Vision vanish'd from thy head.
121 And now, unveil'd, the Toilet stands display'd,
122 Each silver Vase in mystic order laid.
123 First, robe'd in white, the nymph intent adores
124 With head uncover'd, the Cosmetic pow'rs.
125 A heav'nly Image in the glass appears,
126 To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears;
127 Th'inferior Priestess, at her altar's side,
128 Trembling, begins the sacred rites of Pride.
129 Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here
130 The various off'rings of the world appear;
131 From each she nicely culls with curious toil,
132 And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring spoil.
133 This casket India's glowing gems unlocks,
134 And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.
135 The Tortoise here and Elephant unite,
136 Transform'd to combs, the speckled, and the white.
137 Here files of pins extend their shining rows,
138 Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux.
139 Now awful Beauty puts on all its arms;
140 The fair each moment rises in her charms,
141 Repairs her smiles, awakens ev'ry grace,
142 And calls forth all the wonders of her face;
143 Sees by degrees a purer blush arise,
144 And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
[Page 147]
145 [Footnote: 1Kb] The busy Sylphs surround their darling care,
146 These set the head, and those divide the hair,
147 Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown;
148 And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own.
[Page 148]
CANTO II.
1 Not with more glories, in th'etherial plain,
2 The Sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
3 Than issuing forth, the rival of his beams
4 Lanch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames.
5 Fair Nymphs, and well-drest Youths around her shone,
6 But ev'ry eye was fix'd on her alone.
7 On her white breast a sparkling Cross she wore,
8 Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.
9 Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
10 Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those:
11 Favours to none, to all she smiles extends,
12 Oft' she rejects, but never once offends.
13 Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,
14 And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
15 Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride
16 Might hide her faults, if Belles had faults to hide:
17 If to her share some female errors fall,
18 Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
19 This Nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
20 Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind
[Page 149]
21 In equal curls, and well conspir'd to deck
22 With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck:
23 Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
24 And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
25 With hairy sprindges we the birds betray,
26 Slight lines of hair surprize the finny prey,
27 Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare,
28 And beauty draws us with a single hair.
29 Th'advent'rous Baron the bright locks admir'd,
30 He saw, he wish'd, and to the prize aspir'd.
31 Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way,
32 By force to ravish, or by fraud betray;
33 For when success a Lover's toil attends,
34 Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends.
35 For this, e'er Phoebus rose, he had implor'd
36 Propitious heav'n, and ev'ry pow'r ador'd,
37 But chiefly Love---to Love an altar built,
38 Of twelve vast French Romances, neatly gilt.
39 There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves;
40 And all the trophies of his former loves.
41 With tender Billet-doux he lights the pyre,
42 And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire.
43 Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes
44 Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize:
45 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Pow'rs gave ear, and granted half his pray'r,
46 The rest, the winds dispers'd in empty air.
[Page 150]
47 But now secure the painted vessel glides,
48 The sun-beams trembling on the floating tydes;
49 While melting music steals upon the sky,
50 And soften'd sounds along the waters die;
51 Smooth flow the waves, the Zephyrs gently play,
52 Belinda smil'd, and all the world was gay.
53 All but the Sylph---with careful thoughts opprest,
54 Th'impending woe sate heavy on his breast.
55 He summons strait his Denizens of air;
56 The lucid squadrons round the sails repair:
57 Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
58 That seem'd but Zephyrs to the train beneath.
59 Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold,
60 Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold;
61 Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight,
62 Their fluid bodies half dissolv'd in light.
63 Loose to the wind their airy garments flew,
64 Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew,
65 Dipt in the richest tincture of the skies,
66 Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes,
67 While ev'ry beam new transient colours flings,
68 Colours that change whene'er they wave their wings.
69 Amid the circle, on the gilded mast,
70 Superior by the head, was Ariel plac'd;
71 His purple pinions opening to the sun,
72 He rais'd his azure wand, and thus begun.
73 Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear,
74 Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Dæmons hear!
75 Ye know the spheres and various tasks assign'd
76 By laws eternal to th'aerial kind.
[Page 151]
77 Some in the fields of purest Æther play,
78 And bask and whiten in the blaze of day.
79 Some guide the course of wand'ring orbs on high,
80 Or roll the planets thro' the boundless sky.
81 Some less refin'd, beneath the moon's pale light
82 Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night,
83 Or suck the mists in grosser air below,
84 Or dip their pinions in the painted bow,
85 Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main,
86 Or o'er the glebe distill the kindly rain.
87 Others on earth o'er human race preside,
88 Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide:
89 Of these the chief the care of Nations own,
90 And guard with Arms divine the British Throne.
91 Our humbler province is to tend the Fair;
92 Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious care:
93 To save the powder from too rude a gale,
94 Nor let th'imprison'd essences exhale;
95 To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow'rs;
96 To steal from rainbows e'er they drop in show'rs
97 A brighter wash; to curl their waving hairs,
98 Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs;
99 Nay oft', in dreams, invention we bestow,
100 To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelow.
101 This day, black Omens threat the brightest Fair
102 That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care;
103 Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight;
104 But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night.
105 Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law,
106 Or some frail China jar receive a flaw,
[Page 152]
107 Or stain her honour, or her new brocade,
108 Forget her pray'rs, or miss a masquerade,
109 Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball;
110 Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall.
111 Haste then, ye spirits! to your charge repair;
112 The flutt'ring fan be Zephyretta's care;
113 The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign;
114 And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine;
115 Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite Lock;
116 Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock.
117 To fifty chosen Sylphs, of special note,
118 We trust th'important charge, the Petticoat:
119 Oft' have we known that seven-fold fence to fail,
120 Tho' stiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs of whale.
121 Form a strong line about the silver bound,
122 And guard the wide circumference around.
123 Whatever spirit, careless of his charge,
124 His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large,
125 Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins,
126 Be stop'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins;
127 Or plung'd in lakes of bitter washes lie,
128 Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye:
129 Gums and Pomatums shall his flight restrain,
130 While clog'd he beats his silken wings in vain;
131 Or Alom stypticks with contracting pow'r
132 Shrink his thin essence like a rivell'd flow'r:
133 Or as Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel
134 The giddy motion of the whirling Mill,
135 In fumes of burning Chocolate shall glow,
136 And tremble at the sea that froaths below!
[Page 153]
137 He spoke; the spirits from the sails descend;
138 Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend;
139 Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair;
140 Some hang upon the pendants of her ear;
141 With beating hearts the dire event they wait,
142 Anxious, and trembling for the birth of Fate.
[Page 154]
CANTO III.
1 Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs,
2 Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs,
3 There stands a structure of majestic frame,
4 Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name.
5 Here Britain's statesmen oft' the fall foredoom
6 Of foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home;
7 Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
8 Dost sometimes counsel take---and sometimes Tea.
9 Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort,
10 To taste a while the pleasures of a Court;
11 [Footnote: 1Kb] In various talk th'instructive hours they past,
12 Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last;
13 One speaks the glory of the British Queen,
14 And one describes a charming Indian screen;
[Page 155]
15 A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
16 At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
17 Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat,
18 With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
19 Mean while declining from the noon of day,
20 The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray;
21 The hungry Judges soon the sentence sign,
22 And wretches hang that jury-men may dine;
23 The merchant from th'Exchange returns in peace,
24 And the long labours of the Toilet cease.
25 Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites,
26 Burns to encounter two advent'rous Knights,
27 At Ombre singly to decide their doom;
28 And swells her breast with conquests yet to come.
29 Strait the three bands prepare in arms to join,
30 Each band the number of the sacred nine.
31 Soon as she spreads her hand, th'aerial guard
32 Descend, and sit on each important card:
33 First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore,
34 Then each, according to the rank they bore;
35 For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race,
36 Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
37 Behold, four Kings in majesty rever'd,
38 With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
39 And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a flow'r,
40 Th'expressive emblem of their softer pow'r;
41 Four Knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band,
42 Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand;
43 And particolour'd troops, a shining train,
44 Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.
[Page 156]
45 The skilful Nymph reviews her force with care:
46 Let Spades be trumps! she said, and trumps they were.
47 Now move to war her sable Matadores,
48 In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors.
49 Spadillio first, unconquerable Lord!
50 Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board.
51 As many more Manillio forc'd to yield,
52 And march'd a victor from the verdant field.
53 Him Basto follow'd, but his fate more hard
54 Gain'd but one trump and one Plebeian card.
55 With his broad sabre next, a chief in years,
56 The hoary Majesty of Spades appears,
57 Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd,
58 The rest, his many-colour'd robe conceal'd.
59 The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage,
60 Proves the just victim of his royal rage.
61 Ev'n mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'erthrew,
62 And mow'd down armies in the fights of Lu,
63 Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
64 Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade!
65 Thus far both armies to Belinda yield;
66 Now to the Baron fate inclines the field.
67 His warlike Amazon her host invades,
68 Th'imperial consort of the crown of Spades.
69 The Club's black Tyrant first her victim dy'd,
70 Spite of his haughty mien, and barb'rous pride:
71 What boots the regal circle on his head,
72 His giant limbs, in state unwieldly spread;
73 That long behind he trails his pompous robe,
74 And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe?
[Page 157]
75 The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace;
76 Th'embroider'd King who shows but half his face,
77 And his refulgent Queen, with pow'rs combin'd,
78 Of broken troops an easy conquest find.
79 Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen,
80 With throngs promiscuous strow the level green.
81 Thus when dispers'd a routed army runs,
82 Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons,
83 With like confusion different nations fly,
84 Of various habit, and of various dye,
85 The pierc'd battalions dis-united fall,
86 In heaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
87 The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts,
88 And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts.
89 At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook,
90 A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look;
91 She sees, and trembles at th'approaching ill,
92 Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille.
93 And now, (as oft' in some distemper'd State)
94 On one nice Trick depends the gen'ral fate.
95 An Ace of Hearts steps forth: The King unseen
96 Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen:
97 He springs to vengeance with an eager pace,
98 And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace.
99 The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky;
100 The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.
101 Oh thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
102 Too soon dejected, and too soon elate!
103 Sudden, these honours shall be snatch'd away,
104 And curs'd for ever this victorious day.
[Page 158]
105 For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd,
106 The berries crackle, and the mill turns round;
107 On shining Altars of Japan they raise
108 The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
109 From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
110 While China's earth receives the smoaking tyde:
111 At once they gratify their scent and taste,
112 And frequent cups prolong the rich repaste.
113 Strait hover round the Fair her airy band;
114 Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd,
115 Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd,
116 Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.
117 Coffee, (which makes the politician wise,
118 And see thro' all things with his half-shut eyes)
119 Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain
120 New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain.
121 Ah cease, rash youth! desist e'er 'tis too late,
122 Fear the just Gods, and think of [Footnote: 1Kb] Scylla's Fate!
123 Chang'd to a bird, and sent to flit in air,
124 She dearly pays for Nisus' injur'd hair!
125 But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
126 How soon they find fit instruments of ill?
127 Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace
128 A two-edg'd weapon from her shining case;
129 So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,
130 Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
[Page 159]
131 He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends
132 The little engine on his finger's ends;
133 This just behind Belinda's neck he spread,
134 As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head.
135 Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprites repair,
136 A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair;
137 And thrice they twitch'd the diamond in her ear;
138 Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near.
139 Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
140 The close recesses of the Virgin's thought;
141 As on the nosegay in her breast reclin'd,
142 He watch'd th'Ideas rising in her mind,
143 Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art,
144 An earthly Lover lurking at her heart.
145 Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his pow'r expir'd,
146 Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retir'd.
147 The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring Forfex wide,
148 T'inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide.
149 Ev'n then, before the fatal engine clos'd,
150 A wretched Sylph too fondly interpos'd;
151 Fate urg'd the sheers, and cut the Sylph in twain,
152 ( [Footnote: 1Kb] But airy substance soon unites again)
153 The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
154 From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
155 Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes,
156 And screams of horror rend th'affrighted skies.
[Page 160]
157 Not louder shrieks to pitying heav'n are cast,
158 When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last;
159 Or when rich China vessels fall'n from high,
160 In glitt'ring dust, and painted fragments lie!
161 Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine,
162 (The Victor cry'd) the glorious Prize is mine!
163 While fish in streams, or birds delight in air,
164 Or in a Coach and six the British Fair,
165 As long as Atalantis shall be read,
166 Or the small pillow grace a Lady's bed,
167 While visits shall be paid on solemn days,
168 When num'rous wax-lights in bright order blaze,
169 While nymphs take treats, or assignations give,
170 So long my honour, name, and praise shall live!
171 What Time wou'd spare, from Steel receives its date,
172 And monuments, like men, submit to fate!
173 Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy,
174 And strike to dust th'imperial tow'rs of Troy;
175 Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
176 And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
177 What wonder then, fair nymph! thy hairs shou'd feel
178 The conqu'ring force of unresisted steel?
[Page 161]
CANTO IV.
1 [Footnote: 1Kb] But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress'd,
2 And secret passions labour'd in her breast.
3 Not youthful kings in battle seiz'd alive,
4 Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
5 Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss,
6 Not ancient ladies when refus'd a kiss,
7 Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
8 Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinn'd awry,
9 E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
10 As thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair.
11 For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,
12 And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew,
13 Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite,
14 As ever sully'd the fair-face of light,
15 Down to the central earth, his proper scene,
16 Repair'd to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen.
17 Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome,
18 And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome.
[Page 162]
19 No chearful breeze this sullen region knows,
20 The dreaded East is all the wind that blows.
21 Here in a grotto, shelter'd close from air,
22 And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare,
23 She sighs for ever on her pensive bed,
24 Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.
25 Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place,
26 But diff'ring far in figure and in face.
27 Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid,
28 Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd;
29 With store of pray'rs, for mornings, nights, and noons,
30 Her hand is fill'd; her bosom with lampoons.
31 There Affectation, with a sickly mien,
32 Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen,
33 Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside,
34 Faints into airs and languishes with pride,
35 On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe,
36 Wrapt in a gown, for sickness, and for show.
37 The fair-ones feel such maladies as these,
38 When each new night-dress gives a new disease.
39 A constant Vapour o'er the palace flies;
40 Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise;
41 Dreadful, as hermit's dreams in haunted shades,
42 Or bright, as visions of expiring maids.
43 Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires,
44 Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires:
45 Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes,
46 And crystal domes, and Angels in machines.
47 Unnumber'd throngs on ev'ry side are seen,
48 Of bodies chang'd to various forms by Spleen.
[Page 163]
49 Here living Tea-pots stand, one arm held out,
50 One bent; the handle this, and that the spout:
51 A Pipkin there, like [Footnote: 1Kb] Homer's Tripod walks;
52 Here sighs a Jar, and there a [Footnote: 1Kb] Goose-pye talks;
53 Men prove with child, as pow'rful fancy works,
54 And maids turn'd bottles, call aloud for corks.
55 Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastic band,
56 A branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand.
57 Then thus address'd the pow'r---Hail wayward Queen!
58 Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen:
59 Parent of vapours and of female wit,
60 Who give th'hysteric, or poetic fit,
61 On various tempers act by various ways,
62 Make some take physic, others scribble plays;
63 Who cause the proud their visits to delay,
64 And send the godly in a pett, to pray.
65 A Nymph there is, that all thy pow'r disdains,
66 And thousands more in equal mirth maintains.
67 But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace,
68 Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face,
69 Like Citron-waters matrons cheeks inflame,
70 Or change complexions at a losing game;
71 If e'er with airy horns I planted heads,
72 Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds,
73 Or caus'd suspicion when no soul was rude,
74 Or discompos'd the head-dress of a Prude,
[Page 164]
75 Or e'er to costive lap-dog gave disease,
76 Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease:
77 Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin:
78 That single act gives half the world the spleen.
79 The Goddess with a discontented air
80 Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his pray'r.
81 A wond'rous Bag with both her hands she binds,
82 Like that where once Ulysses held the winds;
83 There she collects the force of female lungs,
84 Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues.
85 A Vial next she fills with fainting fears,
86 Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears.
87 The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away,
88 Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day.
89 Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found,
90 Her eyes dejected and her hair unbound.
91 Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent,
92 And all the Furies issued at the vent.
93 Belinda burns with more than mortal ire,
94 And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.
95 O wretched maid! she spread her hands, and cry'd,
96 (While Hampton's echoes, wretched maid! reply'd)
97 Was it for this you took such constant care
98 The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare?
99 For this your locks in paper durance bound,
100 For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around?
101 For this with fillets strain'd your tender head,
102 And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
103 Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair,
104 While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare!
[Page 165]
105 Honour forbid! at whose unrival'd shrine
106 Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign.
107 Methinks already I your tears survey,
108 Already hear the horrid things they say,
109 Already see you a degraded toast,
110 And all your honour in a whisper lost!
111 How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend?
112 'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend!
113 And shall this prize, th'inestimable prize,
114 Expos'd thro' crystal to the gazing eyes,
115 And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays,
116 On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?
117 Sooner shall grass in Hyde-park Circus grow,
118 And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow;
119 Sooner let earth, air, sea, to Chaos fall,
120 Men, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!
121 She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
122 And bids her Beau demand the precious hairs:
123 (Sir Plume, of amber Snuff-box justly vain,
124 And the nice conduct of a clouded cane)
125 With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,
126 He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case,
127 And thus broke out---"My Lord, why, what the devil?
128 "Z---ds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!
129 "Plague on't! 'tis past a jest---nay prithee, pox!
130 "Give her the hair"---he spoke, and rapp'd his box.
131 It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again)
132 Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain.
[Page 166]
133 But [Footnote: 1Kb] by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear,
134 (Which never more shall join its parted hair;
135 Which never more its honours shall renew,
136 Clip'd from the lovely head where late it grew)
137 That while my nostrils draw the vital air,
138 This hand which won it, shall for ever wear.
139 He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread
140 The long-contended honours of her head.
141 But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not so;
142 He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow.
143 Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears,
144 Her eyes half-languishing, half-drown'd in tears;
145 On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping head,
146 Which, with a sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said.
147 For ever curs'd be this detested day,
148 Which snatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl away!
149 Happy! ah ten times happy had I been,
150 If Hampton-Court these eyes had never seen!
151 Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,
152 By love of Courts to num'rous ills betray'd.
153 Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'd
154 In some lone isle, or distant Northern land;
155 Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way,
156 Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea!
157 There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
158 Like roses, that in desarts bloom and die.
159 What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to roam?
160 O had I stay'd, and said my pray'rs at home!
[Page 167]
161 'Twas this, the morning omens seem'd to tell;
162 Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
163 The tott'ring China shook without a wind,
164 Nay Poll sate mute, and Shock was most unkind!
165 A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate,
166 In mystic visions, now believ'd too late!
167 See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs!
168 My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares:
169 These, in two sable ringlets taught to break,
170 Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck;
171 The sister-lock now sits uncouth, alone,
172 And in its fellow's fate foresees its own;
173 Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal sheers demands,
174 And tempts once more thy sacrilegious hands.
175 Oh hadst thou, cruel! been content to seize
176 Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these!
[Page 168]
CANTO V.
1 She said: the pitying audience melt in tears.
2 But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears.
3 In vain Thalestris with reproach assails,
4 For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
5 Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain,
6 While Anna begg'd and Dido rage'd in vain.
7 Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her fan;
8 Silence ensu'd, and thus the nymph began.
9 [Footnote: 1Kb] Say why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most,
10 The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast?
11 Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford,
12 Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?
13 Why round our coaches croud the white-glov'd Beaus,
14 Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows?
15 How vain are all these glories, all our pains,
16 Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains:
[Page 169]
17 That men may say, when we the front-box grace,
18 Behold the first in virtue, as in face!
19 Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,
20 Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old-age away;
21 Who would not scorn what houswife's cares produce,
22 Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
23 To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint,
24 Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
25 But since, alas! frail beauty must decay,
26 Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey;
27 Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
28 And she who scorns a man, must die a maid;
29 What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
30 And keep good-humour still whate'er we lose?
31 And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
32 When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
33 Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
34 Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
35 [Footnote: 1Kb] So spoke the Dame, but no applause ensu'd;
36 Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.
37 To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
38 And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
39 All side in parties, and begin th'attack;
40 Fans clap, silks russle, and tough whalebones crack;
41 Heroes and Heroines shouts confus'dly rise,
42 And base, and treble voices strike the skies.
[Page 170]
43 No common weapons in their hands are found,
44 Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
45 [Footnote: 1Kb] So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,
46 And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage;
47 'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
48 And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:
49 Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around;
50 Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound;
51 Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way,
52 And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!
53 [Footnote: 1Kb] Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height
54 Clap'd his glad wings, and sate to view the fight:
55 Prop'd on their bodkin spears, the Sprites survey
56 The growing combat, or assist the fray.
57 While thro' the press enrag'd Thalestris flies,
58 And scatters deaths around from both her eyes,
59 A Beau and Witling perish'd in the throng,
60 One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song.
61 "O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,"
62 Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair.
63 A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast,
64 [Footnote: 1Kb] Those eyes are made so killing---was his last.
[Page 171]
65 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies
66 Th'expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies.
67 When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,
68 Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown;
69 She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain,
70 But, at her smile, the Beau reviv'd again.
71 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air,
72 Weighs the Men's wits against the Lady's hair;
73 The doubtful beam long nods from side to side;
74 At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside.
75 See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
76 With more than usual lightning in her eyes:
77 Nor fear'd the Chief th'unequal fight to try,
78 Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
79 But this bold Lord with manly strength endu'd,
80 She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd:
81 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
82 A charge of Snuff the wily virgin threw;
83 The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atome just,
84 The pungent grains of titillating dust.
85 Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows,
86 And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
87 Now meet thy fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,
88 And drew a deadly bodkin from her side.
[Page 172]
89 ( [Footnote: 1Kb] The same, his ancient personage to deck,
90 Her great great grandsire wore about his neck,
91 In three seal-rings; which after, melted down,
92 Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown:
93 Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
94 The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;
95 Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
96 Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
97 Boast not my fall (he cry'd) insulting foe!
98 Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.
99 Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind:
100 All that I dread is leaving you behind!
101 Rather than so, ah let me still survive,
102 And burn in Cupid's flames,---but burn alive.
103 Restore the Lock! she cries; and all around
104 Restore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound.
105 Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain
106 Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.
107 But see how oft' ambitious aims are cross'd,
108 And chiefs contend 'till all the prize is lost!
109 The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain,
110 In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain:
111 With such a prize no mortal must be blest,
112 So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can contest?
113 Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere,
114 [Footnote: 1Kb] Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there.
[Page 173]
115 There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases;
116 And Beau's in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases.
117 There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found;
118 And lover's hearts with ends of ribband bound,
119 The courtier's promises, and sick man's pray'rs,
120 The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs,
121 Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea,
122 Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.
123 But trust the Muse---she saw it upward rise,
124 Tho' mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes:
125 (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew,
126 To Proculus alone confess'd in view)
127 A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid air,
128 And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
129 Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,
130 The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light.
131 The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
132 And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies.
133 This the Beau-monde shall from the Mall survey,
134 And hail with music its propitious ray.
135 This the blest Lover shall for Venus take,
136 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake.
137 [Footnote: 1Kb] This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies,
138 When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes;
[Page 174]
139 And hence th'egregious wizard shall foredoom
140 The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.
141 Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd hair,
142 Which adds new glory to the shining sphere!
143 Not all the tresses that fair head can boast,
144 Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost.
145 For, after all the murders of your eye,
146 When, after millions slain, yourself shall die;
147 When those fair suns shall set, as set they must,
148 And all those tresses shall be laid in dust;
149 This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to fame,
150 And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.
[Page 175]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: ELOISA TO ABELARD. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 176]
The ARGUMENT.
Abelard and Eloisa flourish'd in the twelfth Century;
they were two of the most distinguish'd persons of their
age in learning and beauty, but for nothing more famous
than for their unfortunate passion. After a long
course of Calamities, they retired each to a several Convent,
and consecrated the remainder of their days to religion.
It was many years after this separation, that a
letter of Abelard's to a Friend, which contain'd the history
of his misfortune, fell into the hands of Eloisa.
This awakening all her tenderness, occasion'd those celebrated
letters (out of which the following is partly extracted)
which give so lively a picture of the struggles of
grace and nature, virtue and passion.
[Page 177]
1 In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
2 Where heav'nly-pensive, contemplation dwells,
3 And ever-musing melancholy reigns;
4 What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins?
5 Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
6 Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
7 Yet, yet I love!---From Abelard it came,
8 And Eloïsa yet must kiss the name.
9 Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
10 Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd:
11 Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
12 Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd Idea lies:
13 Oh write it not, my hand---the name appears
14 Already written---wash it out, my tears!
15 In vain lost Eloïsa weeps and prays,
16 Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.
17 Relentless walls! whose darksom round contains
18 Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
[Page 178]
19 Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
20 Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!
21 Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
22 And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
23 Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and silent grown,
24 I have not yet forgot my self to stone.
25 Heav'n claims me all in vain, while he has part,
26 Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
27 Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
28 Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain.
29 Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
30 That well-known name awakens all my woes.
31 Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
32 Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
33 I tremble too where'er my own I find,
34 Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
35 Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
36 Led thro' a sad variety of woe:
37 Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
38 Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
39 There stern Religion quench'd th'unwilling flame,
40 There dy'd the best of passions, Love and Fame.
41 Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
42 Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
43 Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
44 And is my Abelard less kind than they?
45 Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
46 Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
47 No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
48 To read and weep is all they now can do.
[Page 179]
49 Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
50 Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.
51 Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
52 Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;
53 They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
54 Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,
55 The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
56 Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
57 Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
58 And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
59 Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
60 When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
61 My fancy form'd thee of angelick kind,
62 Some Emanation of th'all-beauteous Mind.
63 Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,
64 Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
65 Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
66 And truths [Footnote: 1Kb] divine came mended from that tongue.
67 From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
68 Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love:
69 Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
70 Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
71 Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
72 Nor envy them that heav'n I lose for thee.
73 How oft', when prest to marriage, have I said,
74 Curse on all laws but those which love has made?
[Page 180]
75 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
76 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
77 Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
78 August her deed, and sacred be her fame;
79 Before true passion all those views remove,
80 Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
81 The jealous God, when we profane his fires,
82 Those restless passions in revenge inspires,
83 And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
84 Who seek in love for ought but love alone.
85 Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
86 Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:
87 Not Cæsar's empress wou'd I deign to prove;
88 No, make me mistress to the man I love;
89 If there be yet another name, more free,
90 More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
91 Oh happy state! when souls each other draw,
92 When love is liberty, and nature, law:
93 All then is full, possessing, and possess'd,
94 No craving void left aking in the breast:
95 Ev'n thought meets thought, e'er from the lips it part,
96 And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
97 This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)
98 And once the lot of Abelard and me.
99 Alas how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise?
100 A naked Lover bound and bleeding lies!
101 Where, where was Eloïse? her voice, her hand,
102 Her ponyard, had oppos'd the dire command.
103 Barbarian stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
104 The crime was common, common be the pain.
[Page 181]
105 I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,
106 Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest.
107 Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
108 When victims at yon' altar's foot we lay?
109 Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
110 When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
111 As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
112 The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
113 Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
114 And Saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
115 Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
116 Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
117 Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
118 And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
119 Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
120 Those still at least are left thee to bestow.
121 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
122 Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,
123 Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
124 Give all thou canst---and let me dream the rest.
125 Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize,
126 With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
127 Full in my view set all the bright abode,
128 And make my soul quit Abelard for God.
129 Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care,
130 Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
131 From the false world in early youth they fled,
132 By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.
[Page 182]
133 You [Footnote: 1Kb] rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,
134 And Paradise was open'd in the Wild.
135 No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
136 Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
137 No silver saints, by dying misers given,
138 Here bribe'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:
139 But such plain roofs as Piety could raise,
140 And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
141 In these lone walls (their day's eternal bound)
142 These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
143 Where awful arches make a noon-day night,
144 And the dim windows shed a solemn light;
145 Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,
146 And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
147 But now no face divine contentment wears,
148 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
149 See how the force of others pray'rs I try,
150 (Oh pious fraud of am'rous charity!)
151 But why should I on others pray'rs depend?
152 Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
153 Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,
154 And, all those tender names in one, thy love!
155 The darksome pines that o'er yon' rocks reclin'd
156 Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
157 The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
158 The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
159 The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
160 The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
[Page 183]
161 No more these scenes my meditation aid,
162 Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
163 But o'er the twilight groves, and dusky caves,
164 Long-sounding isles, and intermingled graves,
165 Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
166 A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
167 Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
168 Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
169 Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
170 And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
171 Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
172 Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
173 Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
174 And here ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,
175 Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
176 And wait, 'till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.
177 Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
178 Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
179 Assist me heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
180 Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
181 Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
182 Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
183 I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
184 I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
185 I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
186 Repent old pleasures, and sollicit new;
187 Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my past offence,
188 Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
189 Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
190 'Tis sure the hardest science, to forget!
[Page 184]
191 How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
192 And love th'offender, yet detest th'offence?
193 How the dear object from the crime remove,
194 Or how distinguish penitence from love?
195 Unequal task! a passion to resign,
196 For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
197 E'er such a soul regains its peaceful state,
198 How often must it love, how often hate!
199 How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
200 Conceal, disdain---do all things but forget.
201 But let heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd,
202 Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
203 Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
204 Renounce my love, my life, my self---and you.
205 Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
206 Alone, can rival, can succeed to thee.
207 How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot?
208 The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
209 Eternal sun-shine of the spotless mind!
210 Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
211 Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
212 'Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;
213 Desires compos'd, affections ever even;
214 Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heav'n.
215 Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
216 And whisp'ring Angels prompt her golden dreams.
217 For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
218 For her white virgins Hymenæals sing,
219 For her th'unfading rose of Eden blooms,
220 And wings of Seraphs shed divine perfumes,
[Page 185]
221 To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
222 And melts in visions of eternal day.
223 Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
224 Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
225 When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
226 Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
227 Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
228 All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
229 O curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
230 How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
231 Provoking Dæmons all restraint remove,
232 And stir within me ev'ry source of love.
233 I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
234 And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
235 I wake:---no more I hear, no more I view,
236 The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
237 I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
238 I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
239 To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
240 Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
241 Alas, no more!---methinks we wand'ring go
242 Thro' dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
243 Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
244 And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
245 Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
246 Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
247 I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
248 And wake to all the griefs I left behind.
249 For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
250 A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;
[Page 186]
251 Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose;
252 No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
253 Still as the sea, e'er winds were taught to blow,
254 Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
255 Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,
256 And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n.
257 Come Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
258 The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
259 Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
260 Ev'n thou art cold---yet Eloïsa loves.
261 Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
262 To light the dead, and warm th'unfruitful urn.
263 What scenes appear, where-e'er I turn my view,
264 The dear Ideas where I fly, pursue,
265 Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,
266 Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
267 I waste the Matin lamp in sighs for thee,
268 Thy image steals between my God and me,
269 Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
270 With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.
271 When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
272 And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
273 One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
274 Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
275 In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
276 While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.
277 While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
278 Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
[Page 187]
279 While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
280 And dawning grace is opening on my soul:
281 Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
282 Oppose thy self to heav'n; dispute my heart;
283 Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
284 Blot out each bright Idea of the skies;
285 Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
286 Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;
287 Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
288 Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!
289 No, fly me, fly me! far as Pole from Pole;
290 Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
291 Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
292 Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
293 Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
294 Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
295 Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
296 Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
297 O grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
298 Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
299 Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!
300 And faith, our early immortality!
301 Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
302 Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!
303 See in her cell sad Eloïsa spread,
304 Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead!
305 In each low wind methinks a Spirit calls,
306 And more than Echoes talk along the walls.
307 Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
308 From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
[Page 188]
309 'Come, sister, come! (it said, or seem'd to say)
310 'Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!
311 'Once like thy self, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
312 'Love's victim then, tho' now a sainted maid:
313 'But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
314 'Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
315 'Ev'n Superstition loses ev'ry fear:
316 'For God, not man, absolves our frailties here.'
317 I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,
318 Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.
319 Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
320 Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:
321 Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
322 And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
323 See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
324 Suck my last breath, and catch the flying soul!
325 Ah no---in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
326 The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
327 Present the Cross before my lifted eye,
328 Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
329 Ah then, thy once lov'd Eloïsa see!
330 It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
331 See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
332 See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
333 'Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath, be o'er;
334 And ev'n my Abelard belov'd no more.
335 O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
336 What dust we doat on, when 'tis man we love.
[Page 189]
337 Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
338 (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)
339 In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
340 Bright clouds descend, and Angels watch thee round,
341 From opening skies may streaming glories shine,
342 And Saints embrace thee with a love like mine.
343 May [Footnote: 1Kb] one kind grave unite each hapless name,
344 And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
345 Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
346 When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
347 If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
348 To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
349 O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
350 And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
351 Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,
352 "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!
353 From the full quire when loud Hosanna's rise,
354 And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
355 Amid that scene, if some relenting eye
356 Glance on the stone where our cold relicks lie,
357 Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heav'n,
358 One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n.
359 And sure if fate some future bard shall join
360 In sad similitude of griefs to mine,
[Page 190]
361 Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
362 And image charms he must behold no more;
363 Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;
364 Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
365 The well-sung woes will sooth my pensive ghost;
366 He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.
[Page 191]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: ELEGY To the Memory of an UNFORTUNATE LADY. [from The Works (1736)]
1 What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade
2 Invites my step, and points to yonder glade?
3 'Tis she!---but why that bleeding bosom gor'd,
4 Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?
5 Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,
6 Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
7 To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
8 To act a Lover's or a Roman's part?
9 Is there no bright reversion in the sky,
10 For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
11 Why bad ye else, ye Pow'rs! her soul aspire
12 Above the vulgar flight of low desire?
13 Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes;
14 The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods:
15 Thence to their images on earth it flows,
16 And in the breasts of Kings and Heroes glows!
17 Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,
18 Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage:
[Page 192]
19 Dim lights of life that burn a length of years,
20 Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres;
21 Like Eastern Kings a lazy state they keep,
22 And close confin'd in their own palace sleep.
23 From these perhaps (e'er nature bade her die)
24 Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky.
25 As into air the purer spirits flow,
26 And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below;
27 So flew the soul to its congenial place,
28 Nor left one virtue to redeem her Race.
29 But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,
30 Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood!
31 See on these ruby lips the trembling breath,
32 These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death;
33 Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before,
34 And those love-darting eyes must roll no more.
35 Thus, if Eternal justice rules the ball,
36 Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall:
37 On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,
38 And frequent herses shall besiege your gates.
39 There passengers shall stand, and pointing say,
40 (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way)
41 Lo these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd,
42 And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield.
43 Thus unlamented pass the proud away,
44 The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!
45 So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow
46 For others good, or melt at others woe.
47 What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade!)
48 Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid?
[Page 193]
49 No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear
50 Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier.
51 By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
52 By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,
53 By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
54 By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!
55 What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear,
56 Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,
57 And bear about the mockery of woe
58 To midnight dances, and the publick show?
59 What tho' no weeping Loves thy ashes grace,
60 Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face?
61 What tho' no sacred earth allow thee room,
62 Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb?
63 Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest,
64 And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:
65 There shall the Morn her earliest tears bestow,
66 There the first roses of the year shall blow;
67 While Angels with their silver wings o'ershade
68 The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
69 So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
70 What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.
71 How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not,
72 To whom related, or by whom begot;
73 A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
74 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
75 Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,
76 Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
77 Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,
78 Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays;
[Page 194]
79 Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,
80 And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,
81 Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
82 The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: PROLOGUE TO Mr. ADDISON's Tragedy OF CATO. [from The Works (1736)]
1 To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
2 To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
3 To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
4 Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:
5 For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage,
6 Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry age;
[Page 195]
7 Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
8 And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
9 Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move,
10 The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;
11 In pitying Love, we but our weakness show,
12 And wild Ambition well deserves its woe.
13 Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause,
14 Such Tears as Patriots shed for dying Laws:
15 He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,
16 And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes.
17 Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws,
18 What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was:
19 No common object to your sight displays,
20 But what with pleasure Heav'n itself surveys,
21 A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
22 And greatly falling with a falling state.
23 While Cato gives his little Senate laws,
24 What bosom beats not in his Country's cause?
25 Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed?
26 Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
27 E'vn when proud Cæsar 'midst triumphal cars,
28 The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
29 Ignobly vain and impotently great,
30 Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
31 As her dead Father's rev'rend image past,
32 The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercast;
33 The Triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from ev'ry eye;
34 The World's great Victor pass'd unheeded by;
35 Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd,
36 And honour'd Cæsar's less than Cato's sword.
[Page 196]
37 Britons attend: be worth like this approv'd,
38 And show, you have the virtue to be mov'd.
39 With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd
40 Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd;
41 Our scene precariously subsists too long
42 On French translation, and Italian song.
43 Dare to have sense your selves; assert the stage,
44 Be justly warm'd with your own native rage:
45 Such Plays alone should please a British ear,
46 As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPILOGUE TO Mr. Rowe's JANESHORE,
Design'd for Mrs. Oldfield. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Prodigious this! the Frail-one of our play
2 From her own Sex should mercy find to-day!
3 You might have held the pretty head aside,
4 Peep'd in your fans, been serious, thus, and cry'd,
[Page 197]
5 The Play may pass---but that strange creature, Shore,
6 I can't---indeed now---I so hate a whore---
7 Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull,
8 And thanks his stars he was not born a fool;
9 So from a sister sinner you shall hear,
10 "How strangely you expose your self, my dear?"
11 But let me die, all raillery apart,
12 Our sex are still forgiving at their heart;
13 And did not wicked custom so contrive,
14 We'd be the best, good-natur'd things alive.
15 There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale,
16 That virtuous ladies envy while they rail:
17 Such rage without betrays the fire within;
18 In some close corner of the soul, they sin,
19 Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice,
20 Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice.
21 The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns,
22 Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams.
23 Wou'd you enjoy soft nights and solid dinners?
24 Faith, gallants, board with saints, and bed with sinners.
25 Well, if our Author in the Wife offends,
26 He has a Husband that will make amends:
27 He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving,
28 And sure such kind good creatures may be living.
29 In days of old, they pardon'd breach of vows,
30 Stern Cato's self was no relentless spouse:
31 Plu---Plutarch, what's his name, that writes his life?
32 Tells us, that Cato dearly lov'd his wife:
33 Yet if a friend, a night or so, should need her,
34 He'd recommend her, as a special breeder.
[Page 198]
35 To lend a wife, few here would scruple make,
36 But pray which of you all would take her back?
37 Tho' with the Stoick Chief our stage may ring,
38 The Stoick Husband was the glorious thing.
39 The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,
40 And lov'd his country---but what's that to you?
41 Those strange examples ne'er were made to fit ye,
42 But the kind cuckold might instruct the City:
43 There, many an honest man may copy Cato,
44 Who ne'er saw naked sword, or look'd in Plato.
45 If, after all, you think it a disgrace,
46 That Edward's Miss thus perks it in your face;
47 To see a piece of failing flesh and blood,
48 In all the rest so impudently good;
49 Faith, let the modest Matrons of the town,
50 Come here in crouds, and stare the strumpet down.
The END of the First Volume.
VOL. II.
Containing his EPISTLES and SATIRES.
[Page]
[Page]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:AN ESSAY on MAN, Being the First Book of ETHIC EPISTLES. [from The Works (1736)]
TO HENRY St. JOHN L. BOLINGBROKE.
Written in the Year 1732.
[Page 1]
THE DESIGN.
Having proposed to write some pieces on Human
Life and Manners, such as (to use my Lord Bacon's
expression) come home to Men's business
and bosoms, I thought it more satisfactory to begin with
considering Man in the Abstract, his Nature and his State:
since to prove any moral Duty, to enforce any moral Precept,
or to examine the Perfection or Imperfection of any
Creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what
condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the
proper end and purpose of its Being.
The Science of Human Nature is, like all other Sciences,
reduced to a few, clear points: There are not many
certain Truths in this World. It is therefore in the
Anatomy of the Mind, as in that of the Body; more good
will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open,
and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer
nerves and vessels as will for ever escape our observation.
The Disputes are all upon these last, and I will
venture to say, they have less sharpen'd the Wits than the
Hearts of Men against each other, and have diminish'd
the Practice, more than advanced the Theory, of Morality.
If I could flatter myself that this Essay has any merit, it
is in steering betwixt Doctrines seemingly opposite, in
passing over Terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming
out of all, a temperate yet not inconsistent, and a short
yet not imperfect System of Ethics.
[Page 2]
This I might have done in Prose; but I chose Verse,
and even Rhyme, for two reasons. The one will appear
obvious; that Principles, maxims, or precepts so written,
both strike the reader more strongly at first, and are
more easily retain'd by him afterwards. The other may
seem odd, but is true; I found I could express them more
shortly this way than in Prose it self; and nothing is truer
than that much of the Force as well as Grace of Arguments
or Instructions depends on their Conciseness. I was
unable to treat this part of my subject more in detail,
without becoming dry and tedious: or more poetically,
without sacrificing Perspicuity to Ornament, without wandring
from the Precision, or breaking the Chain of Reasoning.
If any man can unite all these without diminution
of any of them, I freely confess he will compass a
thing above my capacity.
What is now publish'd, is only to be considered as a
general Map of Man, marking out no more than the
Greater Parts, their Extents, their Limits, and their
Connection, but leaving the particular to be more fully
delineated in the Charts which are to follow. Consequently
these Epistles in their progress (if I have
health and leisure to make any progress) will become
less dry, and more susceptible of Ornament. I am here
only opening the Fountains and clearing the passage;
To deduce the Rivers, to follow them in their course, and
to observe their effects, would be a task more agreeable.
[Page 3]
THE CONTENTS.
EPISTLE I. Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to the Universe.
Of Man, in the Abstract.---That we can
judge only with regard to our own System, being
ignorant of the Relations of Systems and
Things, Ver. 17, &c. to 69. That Man is not to
be deemed Imperfect, but a Being suited to his Place
and Rank in the Creation, agreeable to the General
Order of things, and conformable to Ends and Relations
to him unknown, 69, &c. That it is partly upon his
Ignorance of future Events, and partly upon the Hope
of a Future State, that all his Happiness in the present
depends, 73, &c. The Pride of aiming at more
Knowledge, and pretending to more Perfection, the
cause of man's Error and Misery. The impiety of putting
himself in the Place of God, and judging of the fitness
or unfitness, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice
of his dispensations, 109 to 120. The Absurdity of
conceiting himself the final Cause of the Creation, or
expecting that Perfection in the moral world which is
not in the natural, 127 to 164. The Unreasonableness
of his complaints against Providence, while on the one
hand he demands the perfections of the Angels, on the
other the bodily qualifications of the Brutes, 165.
[Page 4]
That to possess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher
degree, would render him miserable, 181 to 198.
That throughout the whole visible world, an universal
Order and Gradation in the sensual and mental Faculties
is observed, which causes a subordination of creature to
creature, and of all creatures to man. The gradations
of sense, instinct, thought, reflection, reason; that Reason
alone countervails all the other faculties, 199 to
224. How much farther this Order and subordination
of living creatures may extend, above and below us?
were any part of which broken, not that part only, but
the whole connected Creation must be destroyed. The
Extravagance, Madness, and Pride of such a desire,
225 to 260. The Consequence of all, the absolute
Submission due to Providence, both as to our Present and
future state, 273, &c.
EPISTLE II. Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to Himself as an Individual.
The business of Man not to pry into God, but to
study himself. His Middle Nature; his Powers and
Frailties, and the Limits of his Capacity. 43. The two
Principles of Man, Self-love and Reason, both necessary;
Self-love the Stronger, and why? their End the same,
83. The Passions, and their Use, 83, to 120. The
Predominant Passion, and its force, 122 to 150. its necessity,
in directing men to different purposes, 153, &c.
its providential use, in fixing our principle and ascertaining
our virtue, 167. Virtue and Vice joined in our
mixt nature; the limits near, yet the things separate,
[Page 5]
and evident. What is the office of Reason? 187, &c.
How odious Vice in itself, and how we deceive ourselves
into it, 209. That however, the Ends of Providence and
general Good are answered in our Passions, and Imperfections,
230, &c. How usefully they are distributed
to all Orders of Men, 233. how useful they are to Society,
241. and to the Individuals, 253. In every State,
and in every Age of life, 263. &c.
EPISTLE III. Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to Society.
The whole Universe one System of Society, Ver. 7.
&c. Nothing is made wholly for itself, nor yet
wholly for another, 27. The happiness of Animals mutual,
53. Reason or Instinct operate alike to the good of
each Individual, 83. Reason or Instinct operate also to
Society, in all animals, 109. How far Society, carry'd
by Instinct. 119. how much farther by Reason, 132.
Of that which is called the State of Nature. 148. Reason
instructed by Instinct in the invention of Arts, 150 and
in the Forms of Society, 180. Origin of political Societies,
199. Origin of Monarchy, 211. Patriarchal government,
216. Origin of true Religion and Government, from
the same principle, of Love. 235, &c. Origin of Superstition
and Tyranny, from the same principle, of Fear,
241, &c. The influence of Self-love operating to the
social and publick good, 269. Restoration of true Religion
and Government on their first principle, 285.
Mixt Government, 289. Various Forms of each, and
the true End of all. 303. &c.
[Page 6]
EPISTLE IV. Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to Happiness.
Happiness ill defined by the Philosophers, Ver. 19.
That it is the End of all men, and attainable by all,
28. God governs by general, not particular Laws: intends
Happiness to be equal; and to be so it must be social, since
all particular happiness depends on general, 35. As it is
necessary for Order, and the peace and welfare of Society,
that External goods should be unequal. Happiness is not
made to consist in these, 47. But, notwithstanding that
inequality, the Balance of Happiness among mankind is
kept even by Providence, by the two Passions of Hope and
Fear, 66. What the happiness of Individuals is, as far as is
consistent with the Constitution of this World: and that
the good man has here the Advantage, 76. The error of
imputing to Virtue what are only the calamities of Nature,
or of Fortune, 92. The folly of expecting God should
alter his General Laws in favour of particulars, 118.
That we are not judges who are good? but that whoever
they are, they must be happiest, 130, &c. That external
goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconsistent
with, or destructive of Virtue, 166. That even these can
make no man happy without Virtue. Instanced in Riches,
176. Honours, 184. Birth, 203. Greatness, 213. Fame,
233. Superior Talents, 257. with Pictures of human Infelicity
in men possest of them all, 275, &c. That Virtue
only constitutes a Happiness, whose Object is Universal,
and whose Prospect Eternal, 304, &c. That the Perfection
of Virtue and Happiness consists in a Conformity
to the Order of Providence here, and a Resignation
to it here, and hereafter, 326, &c.
[Page 7]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE I. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Awake! my St. John! leave all meaner things
2 To low ambition and the pride of Kings.
3 Let us (since Life can little more supply
4 Than just to look about us and to die)
5 Expatiate free o'er all this scene of Man:
6 A mighty maze! but not without a plan;
7 A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous shoot,
8 Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
9 Together let us beat this ample field,
10 Try what the open, what the covert yield,
11 The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore
12 Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar,
13 Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
14 And catch the manners living as they rise,
15 Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,
16 But vindicate the ways of God to man.
17 [Footnote: 1Kb] Say first, of God above, or Man below,
18 What can we reason, but from what we know?
[Page 8]
19 Of Man, what see we but his Station here,
20 From which to reason, or to which refer?
21 Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known,
22 'Tis ours to trace him, only in our own.
23 He who thro' vast immensity can pierce,
24 See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
25 Observe how system into system runs,
26 What other plannets and what other suns?
27 What vary'd being peoples ev'ry star?
28 May tell, why heav'n made all things as they are.
29 But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
30 The strong connections, nice dependencies,
31 Gradations just, has thy pervading soul
32 Look'd thro'? or can a part contain the whole?
33 Is the great Chain that draws all to agree,
34 And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee?
35 Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find
36 [Footnote: 1Kb] Why form'd so weak, so little and so blind?
37 First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess
38 Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less?
39 Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
40 Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
41 Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
42 Why Jove's Satellites are less than Jove?
[Page 9]
43 Of Systems possible, if 'tis confest
44 That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
45 Where all must full or not coherent be,
46 And all that rises, rise in due degree;
47 Then, in the scale of life and sense, 'tis plain
48 There must be, some where, such a rank as Man;
49 And all the question (wrangle 'ere so long)
50 Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?
51 Respecting man whatever wrong we call,
52 May, must be right, as relative to all.
53 In human works though labour'd on with pain,
54 A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain;
55 In God's, one single can its end produce,
56 Yet serves to second too some other use.
57 So man, who here seems principal alone,
58 Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
59 Touches some wheel, or verges to some gole;
60 'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
61 When the proud steed shall know, why man restrains
62 His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains;
63 When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
64 Now wears a Garland, an Ægyptian god;
65 Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend
66 His action's, passion's, being's, use and end;
67 Why doing suff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why
68 This hour a slave, the next a deity?
69 Then say not Man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault;
70 Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought;
[Page 10]
71 His being measur'd to his state and place,
72 His time a moment, and a point his space.
73 [Footnote: 1Kb] Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
74 All but the page prescrib'd, their present state,
75 [Footnote: 1Kb] From brutes what men, from men what spirits know,
76 Or who could suffer Being here below?
77 The Lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to day,
78 Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
79 Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
80 And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
81 Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
82 That each may fill the circle mark'd by heav'n,
83 Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
84 A hero perish or a sparrow fall,
85 Atoms, or Systems, into ruin hurl'd,
86 And now a bubble burst, and now a world!
87 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
88 Wait the great teacher, Death, and God adore!
89 What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
90 [Footnote: 1Kb] But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now.
[Page 11]
91 Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
92 Man never is, but always to be blest;
93 The soul uneasy, and confin'd at home,
94 Rests, and expatiates, in a life to come.
95 Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind
96 Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
97 His soul, proud science never taught to stray
98 Far as the solar walk, or milky way:
99 Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n
100 Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heav'n,
101 Some safer world, in depth of woods embrac'd,
102 Some happier island in the watry waste,
103 Where slaves once more their native land behold,
104 No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold,
105 To be, contents his natural desire,
106 He asks no angel's wing, nor seraph's fire,
107 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
108 His faithful dog shall bear him company.
109 [Footnote: 1Kb] Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense
110 Weigh thy Opinion against Providence:
111 Call Imperfection what thou fancy'st such,
112 Say, here he gives too little there too much;
113 Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust,
114 Yet cry, if man's unhappy, Gods unjust,
[Page 12]
115 If man, alone engross not heav'n's high care,
116 Alone made perfect here, immortal there;
117 Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod,
118 Re-judge his justice, be the God of God!
119 In reas'ning Pride (my friend) our error lies;
120 All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
121 Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
122 Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods.
123 Aspiring to be Gods, if angels fell,
124 Aspiring to be angels, men rebel:
125 And who but wishes to invert the laws
126 Of Order, sins against th'Eternal Cause.
127 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies shine?
128 Earth for whose use? Pride answers, "'Tis for mine:
129 "For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r,
130 "Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flow'r;
131 "Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew
132 "The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew;
133 "For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings;
134 "For me, health gushes from a thousand springs;
135 "Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise:
136 "My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
137 But errs not Nature from this gracions end,
138 From burning suns when livid deaths descend,
[Page 13]
139 When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep
140 Towns to one grave, or nations to the deep?
141 No ('tis reply'd) the first Almighty Cause
142 "Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;
143 "Th'exceptions few; some change since all began,
144 "And what created perfect?" Why then Man?
145 If the great end be human happiness,
146 Then Nature deviates, and can Man do less?
147 As much that end a constant course requires
148 Of show'rs and sunshine, as of man's desires,
149 As much eternal springs and cloudless skies,
150 As men for ever temp'rate, calm, and wise.
151 If plagues or earthquakes break not heav'n's design,
152 Why then a Borgia or a Catiline?
153 From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning springs?
154 Account for moral, as for nat'ral things:
155 Why charge we heav'n in those, in these acquit?
156 In both, to reason right, is to submit.
157 Better for Us, perhaps, it might appear,
158 Were there all harmony, all virtue here;
159 That never air or ocean felt the wind;
160 That never passion discompos'd the mind:
161 But All subsists by elemental strife;
162 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Passions are the Elements of life.
163 The gen'ral Order, since the whole began
164 Is kept in Nature, and is kept in Man.
[Page 14]
165 What would this man? now upward will he soar,
166 [Footnote: 1Kb] And little less than Angel, would be more;
167 Now looking downward, just as griev'd appears.
168 To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears.
169 Made for his use all creatures if he call,
170 Say what their use, had he the pow'rs of all?
171 Nature to these, without profusion kind,
172 The proper organs, proper pow'rs assign'd;
173 Each seeming want compensated of course
174 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here, with degrees of swiftness, there, of force;
175 All in exact proportion to the state,
176 Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
177 [Footnote: 1Kb] Each beast, each insect, happy in its own,
178 Is heav'n unkind to man, and man alone?
179 Shall he alone whom rational we call,
180 Be pleas'd with nothing, if not bless'd with all?
181 The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find)
182 Is, not to act, or think, beyond mankind;
[Page 15]
183 No pow'rs of body or of soul to share;
184 But what his nature and his state can bare.
185 Why has not man a microscopic eye?
186 For this plain reason, man is not a fly.
187 Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n,
188 T'inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n?
189 The touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
190 To smart and agonize at ev'ry pore?
191 Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain,
192 Dye of a rose in aromatic pain?
193 If nature thunder'd in his opening ears,
194 And stunn'd him with the musick of the spheres,
195 How would he wish, that heav'n had left him still
196 The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill?
197 Who finds not Providence all-good and wise,
198 Alike in what it gives and what denies?
199 Far as Creation's ample range extends,
200 [Footnote: 1Kb] The scale of sensual, mental pow'rs ascends:
201 Mark how it mounts, to man's imperial race
202 From the green myriads in the peopled grass!
203 What modes of sight, betwixt each wide extreme,
204 The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam:
[Page 16]
205 [Footnote: 1Kb] Of smell, the headlong lioness between,
206 And hound sagacious on the tainted green:
207 Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood,
208 To that which warbles thro' the vernal wood:
209 The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine,
210 Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:
211 In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
212 From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew.
213 How Instinct varies, in the groveling swine,
214 Compar'd, half reas'ning elephant! with thine;
215 'Twixt that, and Reason, what a nice barrier,
216 For ever sep'rate, yet for ever near;
217 Remembrance and Reflection, how ally'd;
218 What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide:
219 And Middle natures, how they long to join,
220 Yet never pass th'insuperable line!
221 Without this just Gradation could they be
222 Subjected these to those, or all to thee?
223 The pow'rs of all subdu'd by thee alone,
224 Is not thy reason all those pow'rs in one?
[Page 17]
225 [Footnote: 1Kb] See, thro' this air, this ocean, and this earth,
226 All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
227 Above, how high progressive life may go?
228 Around how wide? how deep extend below?
229 Vast chain of Being! which from God began,
230 Natures æthereal, human, angel, man,
231 Beast, bird, fish, insect! what no eye can see,
232 No glass can reach! from infinite to thee,
233 From thee to Nothing! On superior pow'rs
234 Were we to press, inferior might on ours:
235 Or in the full creation leave a Void,
236 Where one step broken the great scale's destroy'd;
237 From nature's chain whatever link you strike,
238 Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
239 And if each System in gradation roll,
240 Alike essential to th'amazing whole;
241 The least confusion but in one, not all
242 That System only, but the whole must fall.
243 Let Earth unbalanc'd from her orbit fly,
244 Planets and suns rush lawless thro' the sky,
245 Let ruling Angels from their spheres be hurl'd,
246 Being on being wreck'd, and world on world,
247 Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre nod,
248 And Nature tremble, to the throne of God!
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249 All this dread Order break!---For whom? For thee?
250 [Footnote: 1Kb] Vile worm!---O Madness! Pride! Impiety!
251 What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,
252 Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
253 What if the head, the eye or ear repin'd
254 To serve mere engines to the ruling Mind?
255 Just as absurd, for any part to claim
256 To be another in this gen'ral frame:
257 [Footnote: 1Kb] Just as absurd, to mourn the task or pains,
258 The great directing Mind of All ordains.
259 All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
260 Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
261 That, chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the same,
262 Great in the earth as in the æthereal frame,
263 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
264 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
265 Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent,
266 Spreads undivided, operates unspent,
267 Breaths in our soul, informs our mortal part,
268 As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart,
269 As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns,
270 As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns;
271 To him, no high, no low, no great, no small:
272 He fills, he bounds; connects, and equals all.
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273 [Footnote: 1Kb] Cease then, nor Order Imperfection name:
274 Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
275 Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree
276 Of blindness, weakness, heav'n bestows on thee.
277 Submit---in this, or any other sphere,
278 Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear:
279 Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r,
280 Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
281 All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
282 All chance, direction which thou canst not see:
283 All discord, harmony not understood:
284 All partial evil, universal good:
285 And spight of pride, in erring reason's spight,
286 One truth is clear; Whatever Is, is Right."
[Page 20]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE II. [from The Works (1736)]
Of the Nature and State of Man as an Individual.
The business of Man not to pry into God, but to study himself. His Middle Nature, his Power,
Frailties, and the Limits of his Capacity.
1 Know then thy self, presume not God to scan;
2 The proper study of mankind is Man.
3 Plac'd on this Isthmus of a middle state,
4 A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
5 With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,
6 With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,
7 He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest,
8 In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast;
9 In doubt, his mind or body to prefer,
10 Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err;
11 Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
12 Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
13 Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd;
14 Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd;
15 Created half to rise, and half to fall;
16 Great Lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
17 Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd:
18 The glory, jest, and riddle, of the world!
19 Go wondrous creature! mount where Science guides,
20 Go measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides,
[Page 21]
21 Show by what laws the wandring Planets stray,
22 Correct old Time, and teach the Sun his way.
23 Go soar with Plato to th'empyreal sphere,
24 To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;
25 Or tread the mazy round his follow'rs trod,
26 And quitting sense call imitating God;
27 As eastern priests in giddy circles run,
28 And turn their heads to imitate the Sun.
29 Go teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule---
30 Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!
31 Superior Beings, when of late they saw
32 A mortal man unfold all Nature's law,
33 Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape,
34 And shew'd a Newton as we show an Ape.
35 Could he, whose rules the whirling Comet bind,
36 Describe, or fix, one movement of the Mind?
37 Who saw the Stars here rise, and there descend,
38 Explain his own beginning, or his end?
39 Alas what wonder! Man's superior part?
40 Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from Art to art;
41 But when his own great work is but begun,
42 What Reason waves, by Passion is undone.
43 [Footnote: 1Kb] Two Principles in human nature reign;
44 Self-love, to urge, and Reason, to restrain;
45 Nor this a good nor that a bad we call,
46 Each works its end, to move, or govern all:
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47 And to their proper operation still
48 Ascribe all Good, to their improper, Ill.
49 Self-Love, the spring of motion, acts the soul:
50 Reason's comparing balance rules the whole.
51 Man but for that, no action could attend,
52 And but for this, were active to no end,
53 Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot,
54 To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot;
55 Or meteor-like, flame lawless thro' the void,
56 Destroying others, by himself destroy'd.
57 Most strength the moving Principle requires;
58 Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires:
59 Sedate and quiet the comparing lies,
60 Form'd but to check, delib'rate, and advise.
61 Self-love still stronger, as its objects nigh;
62 Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie;
63 That sees immediate good, by present sense,
64 Reason the future, and the consequence;
65 Thicker than arguments, temptations throng,
66 At best more watchful this, but that more strong.
67 The action of the stronger to suspend,
68 Reason still use, to reason still attend:
69 Attention, habit and experience gains,
70 Each strengthens Reason, and Self-love restrains.
71 Let subtile Schoolmen teach these friends to fight,
72 More studious to divide, than to unite,
73 And grace and virtue, sense and reason split,
74 With all the rash dexterity of wit.
75 Wits, just like fools, at war about a name,
76 Have full as oft, no meaning, or the same.
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77 Self-love and Reason to one end aspire,
78 Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire:
79 But greedy that its object would devour,
80 This taste the honey, and not wound the flower:
81 Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood,
82 Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.
83 [Footnote: 1Kb] Modes of Self love the Passions we may call;
84 'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all:
85 But since not every good we can divide,
86 And reason bids us for our own provide;
87 Passions tho' selfish, if their means be fair,
88 List under Reason, and deserve her care:
89 Those that imparted, court a nobler aim,
90 Exalt their kind, and take some Virtue's name.
91 In lazy Apathy let Stoics boast
92 Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost,
93 Contracted all, retiring to the breast;
94 But strength of mind is exercise, not rest:
95 The rising tempest puts in act the soul,
96 Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole.
97 On Life's vast ocean diversely we sail,
98 Reason the card, but Passion is the gale:
99 Nor God alone in the still calm we find;
100 He mounts the storm, and walks upon the Wind.
101 Passions, like Elements, tho' born to fight,
102 Yet mix'd and softned, in his work unite:
103 These, 'tis enough to temper and employ;
104 But what composes man, can man destroy?
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105 Suffice that Reason keep to Nature's road,
106 Subject, compound them, follow her and God.
107 Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train,
108 Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain,
109 These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd,
110 Make, and maintain, the balance of the mind:
111 The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife
112 Gives all the strength and colour of our life.
113 Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes,
114 And when in act they cease, in prospect rise;
115 Present to grasp, and future still to find,
116 The whole employ of body and of mind.
117 All spread their charms, but charm not all alike,
118 On diff'rent Senses diff'rent objects strike;
119 Hence diff'rent Passions more or less inflame,
120 As strong, or weak, the organs of the frame;
121 And hence one Master Passion in the breast,
122 [Footnote: 1Kb] Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
123 As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
124 Receives the lurking principle of death;
125 The young disease that must subdue at length,
126 Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength:
127 So, cast and mingled with his very frame,
128 The mind's disease, its ruling passion came:
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129 Each vital humour which should feed the whole,
130 Soon flows to this, in body and in soul;
131 Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
132 As the mind opens, and its functions spread,
133 Imagination plies her dang'rous art,
134 And pours it all upon the peccant part.
135 Nature its mother, Habit is its nurse;
136 Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse;
137 Reason itself but gives it edge and pow'r,
138 As heav'n's blest beam turns vinegar more sow'r;
139 We, wretched subjects tho' to lawful sway,
140 In this weak Queen, some Fav'rite still obey.
141 Ah! if she lend not arms as well as rules,
142 What can she more, than tell us we are fools?
143 Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
144 A sharp accuser but a helpless friend!
145 Or from a judge, turn pleader, to persuade
146 The choice we make, or justify it made:
147 Proud of an easy conquest all along.
148 She but removes weak passions for the strong;
149 So, when small humours gather to a gout,
150 The Doctor fancies he has driv'n 'em out.
151 Yes, Natures road must ever be prefer'd;
152 Reason is here no guide, but still a guard;
153 'Tis her's to rectify, not overthrow,
154 And treat this passion more as friend than foe:
155 [Footnote: 1Kb] A mightier Pow'r the strong direction sends,
156 And sev'ral men impells to sev'ral Ends.
[Page 26]
157 Like varying winds, by other passions tost,
158 This drives them constant to a certain coast.
159 Let Pow'r or Knowledge, Gold or Glory please.
160 Or (oft more strong than all) the love of Ease:
161 Thro' life 'tis follow'd, ev'n at life's expence:
162 The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence,
163 The monk's humility, the hero's pride,
164 All, all alike, find Reason on their side.
165 [Footnote: 1Kb] Th'Eternal Art, educing good from ill,
166 Grafts on this Passion our best Principle;
167 'Tis thus, the Mercury of man is fix'd,
168 Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd,
169 The dross cements what else were too refin'd,
170 And in one int'rest Body acts with Mind.
171 As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care,
172 On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear;
173 The surest virtues thus from passions shoot,
174 Wild nature's vigour working at the root.
175 What crops of wit and honesty appear,
176 From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear!
177 See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
178 Ev'n av'rice, prudence; sloth, philosophy;
179 Lust, thro' some certain strainers well refin'd
180 Is gentle love, and charms all womankind:
181 Envy, to which th'ignoble mind's a slave,
182 Is emulation in the learn'd or brave:
[Page 27]
183 Nor virtue, male or female, can we name,
184 But what will grow on Pride, or grow on Shame.
185 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride)
186 The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd;
187 Reason the byass turns to good from ill,
188 And Nero reigns a Titus if he will.
189 The fiery soul abhor'd in Catiline,
190 In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine.
191 The same ambition can destroy or save,
192 And makes a patriot, as it makes a knave.
193 This light and darkness in our chaos join'd,
194 What shall divide? The God within the Mind.
195 Extremes in nature equal ends produce,
196 In man, they join to some mysterious use:
197 Tho' each by turns the other's bound invade,
198 As in some well-wrought picture, light and shade,
199 And oft so mix, the diff'rence is too nice
200 Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.
201 Fools! who from hence into the notion fall,
202 That vice or virtue there is none at all.
203 If white and black, blend, soften, and unite
204 A thousand ways, is there no black or white?
205 Ask your own heart; and nothing is so plain;
206 'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.
207 [Footnote: 1Kb] Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
208 As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
[Page 28]
209 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
210 We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
211 But where th'Extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed:
212 Ask, where's the North? at York 'tis on the Tweed,
213 In Scotland at the Orcades, and there
214 At Greenland, Zembla, or the lord knows where.
215 No creature owns it in the first degree,
216 But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he.
217 Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone.
218 Or never feel the rage, or never own;
219 What happier natures shrink at with affright,
220 The hard inhabitant contends is right
221 [Footnote: 1Kb] Virtuous and vicious ev'ry man must be,
222 Few in th'extreme but all in the degree;
223 The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise,
224 And ev'n the best by fits what they despise.
225 'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill.
226 For, vice or virtue, Self directs it still;
227 Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal:
228 But Heav'n's great view is one, and that the Whole:
229 That counter-works each folly and caprice;
230 That disappoints th'effect of ev'ry vice:
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231 That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd,
232 Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride,
233 Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief,
234 To Kings presumption, and to crowds belief.
235 That, Virtue's ends from Vanity can raise,
236 Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise;
237 And build on wants, and on defects of mind,
238 The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.
239 [Footnote: 1Kb] Heav'n, forming each on other to depend,
240 A master, or a servant, or a friend,
241 Bids each on other for assistance call,
242 Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all.
243 Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally
244 The common int'rest, or endear the tye:
245 To these we owe true friendship, love sincere,
246 Each home-felt joy that life inherits here:
247 Yet from the same we learn, in its decline,
248 Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign;
249 Taught half by reason, half by mere decay,
250 To welcome death, and calmly pass away.
251 Whate'er the Passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
252 Not one will change his neighbour with himself:
253 Thel earn'd is happy, nature to explore;
254 The fool is happy, that he knows no more;
255 The rich is happy in the plenty given;
256 The poor contented with the care of heaven.
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257 See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
258 The sot a hero, lunatic a King,
259 The starving Chymist in his golden views
260 Supremely blest, the Poet in his muse.
261 See! Some strange Comfort ev'ry state attend,
262 And Pride bestow'd on all, a common friend;
263 See! some fit Passion ev'ry age supply,
264 Hope travels thro', nor quits us when we die.
265 Till then, Opinion gilds with varying rays
266 Those painted clouds that beautify our days;
267 Each want of happiness by Hope supply'd,
268 And each vacuity of sense by Pride.
269 These build as fast as knowledge can destroy:
270 In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy;
271 One prospect lost, another still we gain;
272 And not a Vanity is giv'n in vain;
273 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ev'n mean Self-Love becomes, by force divine,
274 The scale to measure others wants by thine.
275 See! and confess, one comfort still must rise,
276 'Tis this, tho' Man's a fool, yet God is wise.
[Page 31]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE III. [from The Works (1736)]
Of the Nature and State of Man with respect
to Society. The whole Universe one System of Society.
1 Here then we rest; "The Universal cause
2 "Acts to one end, but acts by various laws."
3 In all the madness of superfluous health,
4 The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth,
5 Let this great truth be present night and day;
6 But most be present, if we preach, or pray.
7 Look round our world: behold the chain of love
8 Combining all below, and all above.
9 See, plastic Nature working to this end,
10 The single atoms each to other tend,
11 Attract, attracted to, the next in place,
12 Form'd and impell'd, its neighbour to embrace.
13 See matter next, with various life endu'd,
14 Press to one centre still, the general good.
15 See dying vegetables life sustain,
16 See life dissolving vegetate again.
17 All forms that perish other forms supply,
18 By turns they catch the vital breath, and die;
19 Like bubbles on the sea of matter born,
20 They rise, they break, and to that sea return.
21 Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole:
22 One all-extending, all-preserving soul
[Page 32]
23 Connects each being, greatest with the least;
24 Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast:
25 All serv'd, all serving! nothing stands alone;
26 The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown.
27 [Footnote: 1Kb] Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good,
28 Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
29 Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
30 For him as kindly spread the flow'ry lawn.
31 Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?
32 Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
33 Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat?
34 Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note.
35 The bounding steed you pompously bestride,
36 Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.
37 Is thine alone the seed that strows the plain?
38 The birds of heav'n shall vindicate their grain.
39 Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
40 Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer.
41 The hog that plows not, nor obeys thy call,
42 Lives on the labours of this lord of all.
43 Know, Nature's children all divide her care;
44 The fur that warms a Monarch, warm'd a bear.
45 While man exclaims, "see all things for my use!
46 "See man for mine," replies a pamper'd goose;
47 What care to tend, to lodge, to cram, to treat him?
48 All this he knows, but not that 'tis to eat him:
[Page 33]
49 And just as short of reason, Man will fall,
50 Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.
51 Grant, that the pow'rful still the weak controul,
52 Be man the wit, and tyrant of the whole:
53 Nature that Tyrant checks; he only knows
54 And helps, another creature's wants and woes.
55 Say will the falcon, stooping from above,
56 Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove:
57 Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings,
58 Or hears the hawk, when Philomela sings?
59 Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods,
60 To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods;
61 For some, his int'rest prompts him to provide,
62 For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride:
63 All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy
64 Th'extensive blessing of his luxury.
65 That very life his learned hunger craves,
66 He saves from famine, from the savage saves;
67 Nay feasts the animal he dooms his feast,
68 And till he ends the being, makes it blest,
69 Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain,
70 Than favour'd man, by touch æthereal slain.
71 The creature had his feast of life before;
72 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thou two must perish, when thy feast is o'er.
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73 To each unthinking being Heav'n a friend,
74 Gives not the useless knowledge of its End;
75 To Man imparts it; but with such a view
76 As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too:
77 The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear,
78 Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
79 Great standing Miracle! that heav'n assign'd
80 Its only thinking thing, this turn of mind.
81 Whether with Reason, or with Instinct blest,
82 Know, all enjoy that pow'r which suits 'em best,
83 [Footnote: 1Kb] To bliss, alike, by that direction tend,
84 And find the means proportion'd to their end.
85 Say, where full Instinct is the unerring guide,
86 What Pope or Council can they need beside?
87 Reason, however able, cool at best,
88 Cares not for service, or but serves when prest,
89 Stays still we call, and then not often near;
90 But honest Instinct comes a Volunteer.
91 This too serves always, reason never long;
92 One must go right the other may go wrong.
93 See then the acting and comparing pow'rs
94 One in their nature, which are two in ours;
95 And Reason raise o'er Instinct, as you can,
96 In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis Man.
97 Who taught the nations of the field and wood
98 To shun their poison, and to choose their food?
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99 Præscient, the tides or tempests to withstand,
100 Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand?
101 Who made the spider parallels design,
102 Sure as Demoivre, without rule or line?
103 Who bid the stork, Columbus like, explore
104 Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before?
105 Who calls the council, states the certain day,
106 Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?
107 God, in the nature of each being, founds
108 Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds:
109 But as he fram'd a Whole, the whole to bless
110 On mutual Wants built mutual Happiness:
111 So from the first eternal Order ran,
112 And Creature link'd to creature, Man to man.
113 Whate'er of life all-quickening Æther keeps,
114 Or breaths thro' air, or shoots beneath the deeps,
115 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or pours profuse on earth; one nature feeds
116 The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds.
117 Not man alone, but all that roam the wood,
118 Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood,
119 Each loves itself, but not itself alone,
120 Each Sex desires alike, till two are one:
121 Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce embrace;
122 They love themselves, a third time, in their race.
123 Thus beast and bird their common charge attend,
124 The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend;
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125 The young dismiss'd to wander earth or air,
126 There stops the Instinct, and there ends the care;
127 The link dissolves, each seeks a fresh embrace;
128 Another love succeds, another race.
129 A longer care Man's helpless kind demands;
130 That longer care contracts more lasting bands:
131 Reflection, Reason, still the ties improve,
132 [Footnote: 1Kb] At once extend the int'rest, and the love:
133 With Choice we fix, with Sympathy we burn;
134 Each Virtue in each Passion takes it turn;
135 And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise,
136 That graft benevolence on charities.
137 Still as one brood, and as another rose,
138 These nat'ral love maintaind, habitual those;
139 The last scarce ripen'd into perfect man,
140 Saw helpless him from whom their life began:
141 Mem'ry and forecast, just returns engage,
142 That pointed back to youth, this on to age;
143 While pleasure, gratitude, and hope combin'd
144 Still spread the int'rest, and preserv'd the kind.
145 Nor think, in Nature's State they blindly trod;
146 The State of Nature was the Reign of God:
147 Self Love, and Social, at her birth began,
148 [Footnote: 1Kb] Union the bond of all things, and of Man.
149 Pride then was not; nor Arts, that pride to aid;
150 Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the shade;
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151 The same his table, and the same his bed;
152 No murder cloath'd him, and no murder fed.
153 In the same Temple, the resounding wood,
154 All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God:
155 The shrine with gore unstain'd, with gold undrest,
156 Unbrib'd, unbloody, stood the blameless Priest:
157 Heav'ns Attribute was Universal care,
158 And Man's Prerogative to rule, but spare.
159 Ah how unlike the man of times to come!
160 Of half that live, the Butcher, and the Tomb;
161 Who, foe to nature, hears the gen'ral groan,
162 Murders their species, and betrays his own.
163 But just disease to luxury succeeds,
164 And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds;
165 The Fury-passions from that blood began,
166 And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, Man.
167 See him from Nature rising slow to Art!
168 To copy instinct then was reason's part;
169 Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake---
170 [Footnote: 1Kb] "Go! from the creatures thy instructions take;
171 "Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
172 "Learn from the beasts, the physick of the field:
173 "Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
174 "Learn of the mole to plow, the worm to weave;
175 "Learn of the little Nautilus to sail,
176 "Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
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177 "Here too all Forms of social union find,
178 [Footnote: 1Kb] "And hence let Reason, late, instruct mankind:
179 "Here subterranean works and cities see,
180 "Their Towns aerial on the waving tree.
181 "Learn each small people's Genius, Policies;
182 "The ants Republic, and the Realm of bees;
183 "How those in common all their stores bestow,
184 "And Anarchy without confusion know,
185 "And these for ever, tho' a Monarch reign,
186 "Their sep'rate cells and properties maintain.
187 "Mark what unvary'd laws preserve their state,
188 "Laws wise as nature, and as fix'd as fate.
189 "In vain thy reason finer webs shall draw,
190 "Entangle Justice in her net of law,
191 "And right too rigid harden into wrong,
192 "Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong.
193 "Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures sway,
194 "Thus let the wiser make the rest obey,
195 "And for those arts meer Instinct could afford,
196 "Be crown'd as Monarchs, or as Gods ador'd.
197 Great Nature spoke; observant men obey'd;
198 Cities were built, Societies were made:
199 Here rose one little State; another near
200 [Footnote: 1Kb] Grew by like means, and join'd thro' Love, or Fear.
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201 Did here the trees with ruddier burdens bend,
202 And there the streams in purer rills descend?
203 What War could ravish, Commerce could bestow,
204 And he return'd a friend, who came a foe.
205 Converse and Love mankind might strongly draw,
206 When Love was Liberty, and Nature Law.
207 Thus States were form'd; the name of King unknown,
208 Till common int'rest plac'd the sway in one.
209 'Twas Virtue only (or in arts, or arms,
210 Diffusing blessings, or averting harms)
211 [Footnote: 1Kb] The same which in a Sire the sons obey'd,
212 A Prince the father of a people made.
213 Till then, by nature crown'd, each Patriarch sate,
214 King, Priest, and Parent of his growing State:
215 On him, their second Providence, they hung,
216 [Footnote: 1Kb] Their law his eye; their oracle, his tongue:
217 He, from the wond'ring furrow call'd their food,
218 Taught to command the Fire, controul the Flood,
219 Draw forth the monsters of th'Abyss profound,
220 Or fetch th'aerial Eagle to the ground.
221 Till drooping, sickning, dying, they began
222 Whom they rever'd as God, to mourn as Man:
223 Then, looking up from sire to sire, explor'd
224 One great, first father, and that first ador'd.
225 Or plain Tradition that this All begun,
226 Convey'd unbroken faith from sire to son,
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227 The Worker from the work distinct was known,
228 And simple reason never sought but one:
229 E're Wit oblique had broke that steady light,
230 Man, like his Maker, saw, that all was right,
231 To virtue in the paths of pleasure trod,
232 And own'd a Father when he ownd a God.
233 Love all the Faith, and all th'Allegiance then;
234 For Nature knew no right divine in Men.
235 No Ill could fear in God; and understood
236 [Footnote: 1Kb] A sovereign Being but a sovereign Good.
237 True Faith, true Policy, united ran,
238 That was but Love of God, and this of Man.
239 Who first taught souls enslav'd, and realms undone,
240 Th'enormous faith of Many made for one?
241 That proud exception to all nature's laws,
242 T'invert the world, and counterwork its Cause?
243 Force first made Conquest, and that conquest, Law;
244 Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe,
245 Then shar'd the tyranny, and lent it aid,
246 And Gods of Conqu'rors, Slaves of subjects made:
247 She, midst the lightning's blaze and thunder's sound,
248 When rock'd the mountains and when groan'd the ground,
249 She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray
250 To Pow'r unseen, and mightier far than they:
251 She, from the rendring earth, and bursting skies,
252 Saw Gods descend, and fiends infernal rise;
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253 Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blest abodes;
254 Fear made her Devils, and weak Hope her Gods:
255 Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust,
256 Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or lust;
257 Such as the souls of Cowards might conceive,
258 And form'd like Tyrants, tyrants would believe.
259 Zeal then, not Charity, became the guide,
260 And Hell was built on spite, and Heav'n on pride.
261 Then sacred seem'd th'æthereal vault no more;
262 Alters grew marble then, and reek'd with gore:
263 Then first the Flamen tasted living food,
264 Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood;
265 With heav'n's own thunders shook the world below,
266 And play'd the God an engine on his foe.
267 So drives Self-Love, thro' just and thro' unjust,
268 To one man's pow'r, ambition, lucre, lust:
269 The same Self-love, in all, becomes the cause
270 [Footnote: 1Kb] Of what restrains him, Government and Laws.
271 For what one likes, if others like as well,
272 What serves one will, when many wills rebel?
273 How shall he keep what sleeping or awake
274 A weaker may surprize, a stronger take?
275 His Safety must his Liberty restrain;
276 All join to guard what each desires to gain.
277 Forc'd into virtue thus by self-defence,
278 Ev'n Kings learn'd justice and benevolence:
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279 Self-love forsook the path it first pursu'd,
280 And found the private in the public good.
281 'Twas then, the studious head, or gen'rous mind,
282 Foll'wer of God, of friend of human kind,
283 Poet or Patriot, rose, but to restore
284 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Faith and Moral Nature gave before;
285 Re-lum'd her ancient light, not kindled new;
286 If not God's image, yet his shadow drew:
287 Taught pow'rs due use to People and to Kings,
288 Taught, nor to slack nor strain its tender strings;
289 The less and greater set so justly true,
290 That touching one must strike the other too;
291 Till jarring Int'rests of themselves create
292 Th'according Music of a well-mix'd State.
293 Such is the World's great harmony, that springs
294 From Union, Order, full Consent of things;
295 Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made
296 To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade,
297 More pow'rful each, as needful to the rest,
298 And in proportion as it blesses, blest,
299 Draw to one point, and to one centre bring
300 Beast, Man, or Angel, Servant, Lord, or King.
301 For Forms of Goverment let fools contest,
302 Whate'er is best administred, is best:
303 For Modes of Faith let graceless zealots fight,
304 His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right:
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305 All must be false, that thwart this one, great End,
306 And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend.
307 Man, like the gen'rous vine supported lives,
308 The strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.
309 On their own Axis, as the Plannets run,
310 Yet make at once their circle round the Sun;
311 So two consistent motions act the soul,
312 And one regards Itself, and one the Whole.
313 Thus God and Nature link'd the gen'ral frame,
314 And bade Self-love and Social be the same.
[Page 44]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE IV. [from The Works (1736)]
Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to Happiness.
1 O Happiness! our being's end and aim!
2 Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name:
3 That something still which prompts th'eternal sigh,
4 For which we bear to live, and dare to die;
5 Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
6 O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise.
7 Plant of Cælestial seed! if dropt below,
8 Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
9 Fair-opening to some Court's propitious shine,
10 Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine,
11 Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassion laurels yield,
12 Or reap'd in Iron harvests of the Field?
13 Where grows---where grows it not? if vain our toil,
14 We ought to blame the Culture, not the Soil:
15 Fix'd to no spot is Happiness sincere,
16 'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where,
17 'Tis never to be bought, but always free,
18 And fled from Monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee.
19 Ask of the Learn'd the way, the Learn'd are blind,
20 This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind;
21 Some place the bliss in action, some in ease;
22 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these:
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23 Who thus define it, say they more or less
24 Than this, that Happiness is Happiness?
25 One grants his pleasure is but rest from pain;
26 One doubts of all; one owns ev'n Virtue vain.
27 [Footnote: 1Kb] Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave,
28 All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;
29 Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell,
30 There needs but thinking right and meaning well;
31 And mourn our various portions as we please,
32 [Footnote: 1Kb] Equal is common Sense, and common Ease.
33 Remember, Man, "the Universal Cause
34 "Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws;
35 And makes what Happiness we justly call,
36 Subsist not in the good of one, but all.
37 There's not a blessing Individuals find,
38 But some way leans and hearkens to the Kind.
39 No Bandit fierce, no Tyrant mad with pride,
40 No cavern'd Hermit, rest self-satisfy'd;
41 Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend,
42 Seek and admirer, or wou'd fix a friend.
43 Abstract what others feel, what others think,
44 All pleasures sicken, and all Glories sink.
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45 Each has his share; and who wou'd more obtain,
46 Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.
47 [Footnote: 1Kb] Order is Heav'n's great Law; and this confest,
48 Some are and must be, mightier than the rest,
49 More rich, more wise: but who infers from hence
50 That such are happier, shocks all common sense.
51 Heav'n to mankind impartial we confess,
52 If all are equal in their Happiness:
53 But mutual wants this happiness increase,
54 All Nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.
55 Condition, Circumstance is not the thing:
56 Bliss is the same, in Subject, or in King,
57 In who obtain defence, or who defend,
58 In him who is, or him who finds, a friend.
59 Heav'n breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole
60 One common blessing, as one common soul.
61 But Fortune's gifts if each alike possest,
62 And each were equal, must not all contest?
63 If then to all men happiness was meant,
64 God in Externals could not place content.
65 [Footnote: 1Kb] Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
66 And these be happy call'd, unhappy those:
67 But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear,
68 While those are plac'd in Hope, and these in Fear:
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69 Not present Good or Ill, the joy or curse,
70 But future views, of better, or of worse.
71 Oh Sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise
72 By mountains pil'd on mountains to the Skies?
73 Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
74 And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
75 [Footnote: 1Kb] Know all the good that individuals find,
76 Or God and nature meant to meer mankind,
77 Reason's whole pleasures, all the joys of sense,
78 Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence.
79 But Health consists with temperance alone,
80 And Peace, O Virtue! Peace is all thy own;
81 The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain;
82 But these less taste them, as they worse obtain.
83 Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,
84 Who risque the most, that take wrong means or right?
85 Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst,
86 Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
87 Count all th'advantage prosp'rous vice attains,
88 'Tis but what virtue flies from, and disdains;
89 And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd,
90 One they must want, which is, to pass for good.
91 [Footnote: 1Kb] Oh blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below!
92 Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe:
93 Who sees, and follows, that great scheme the best,
94 Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest.
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95 But fools the Good alone unhappy call,
96 For ills or accidents that chance to All.
97 See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just!
98 See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust!
99 See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife!
100 Was this their Virtue, or Contempt of life?
101 Say was it Virtue, more tho' heav'n ne'er gave,
102 Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave?
103 Tell me, if Virtue made the Son expire,
104 Why, full of days and honour, lives the Sire?
105 Why drew Marseille's good bishop purer breath,
106 When nature sicken'd and each gale was death?
107 Or why so long (in life if long can be)
108 Lent heav'n a Parent to the Poor, and me?
109 What makes all Physical or Moral ill?
110 There deviates Nature, and here wanders Will.
111 God sends not Ill; if rightly understood,
112 Or partial ill is universal good,
113 Or Change admits, or Nature lets it fall,
114 Short and but rare, till Man improv'd it all.
115 We just as wisely might of heav'n complain,
116 That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain,
117 As that the virtuous son is ill at ease,
118 When his lewd father gave the dire disease.
119 Think we like some weak Prince th'Eternal Cause,
120 Prone for his Fav'rites to reverse his laws?
121 Shall burning Ætna, if a sage requires,
122 Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
123 On Air or Sea new motions be imprest,
124 O blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast?
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125 When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
126 Shall gravitation cease if you go by?
127 Or some old temple nodding to its fall,
128 For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall?
129 But still this world (so fitted for the knave)
130 Contents us not. A better shall we have?
131 A kingdom of the just then let it be:
132 But first consider how those just agree?
133 The good must merit God's peculiar care;
134 But who but God can tell us which they are?
135 One thinks on Calvin heav'n's own spirit fell,
136 Another deems him Instrument of hell?
137 If Calvin feel heav'n's blessing, or its rod,
138 This cries there is, and that, "there is no God."
139 What shocks one part will edify the rest,
140 Nor with one system can they all be blest.
141 The very best will variously incline,
142 And what rewards your Virtue, punish mine.
143 "Whatever is, is right." This world, 'tis true,
144 Was made for Cæsar---but for Titus too:
145 And which more blest? who chain'd his Country, say,
146 Or he, whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day?
147 "But sometimes Virtue starves while Vice is fed."
148 What then? is the reward of virtue, bread?
149 That, Vice may merit; 'tis the price of Toil:
150 The knave deserves it when he tills the soil;
151 The knave deserves it when he tempts the main,
152 Where Folly fights, for Tyrants, or for Gain.
153 The good man may be weak, be indolent,
154 Nor is his claim to Plenty, but Content.
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155 But grant him Riches, your demand is o'er?
156 "No---shall the good want Health, the good want Pow'r?
157 Add health, and pow'r, and ev'ry earthly thing:
158 "Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no King?
159 Nay, why external for internal giv'n,
160 Why is not Man a God, and Earth a Heav'n?
161 Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive
162 God gives enough while he has more to give:
163 Immense the pow'r, immense were the demand;
164 Say, at what part of nature will they stand?
165 What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
166 The soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy,
167 [Footnote: 1Kb] Is Virtue's prize: a better would you fix?
168 Then give Humility a Coach and six,
169 Justice a Conqu'ror's sword, or Truth a Gown,
170 Or publick Spirit its great cure, a Crown:
171 Rewards, that either would to virtue bring
172 No joy, or be destructive of the thing.
173 How oft by these at sixty are undone
174 The virtues of a Saint at twenty one!
175 [Footnote: 1Kb] For Riches, can they give, but to the Just,
176 His own contentment, or another's trust?
177 Judges and Senates have been bought for gold,
178 Esteem and love were never to be sold.
179 O fool! to think, God hates the worthy mind,
180 The Lover, and the Love, of Human kind,
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181 Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear;
182 Because he wants a thousand pounds a year!
183 [Footnote: 1Kb] Honour and shame from no Condition rise;
184 Act well your part, there all the Honour lies.
185 Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made,
186 One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade.
187 The Cobler apron'd, and the Parson gown'd,
188 The Fryar hooded, and the Monarch crown'd.
189 "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?"
190 I'll tell you, friend: a Wise man and a fool.
191 You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
192 Or cobler-like, the parson will be drunk,
193 Worth makes the Man, and want of it the Fellow;
194 The rest, is all but Leather or Prunella.
195 [Footnote: 1Kb] Stuck o'er with Titles, and hung round with strings,
196 That thou may'st be, by Kings, or Whores of kings.
197 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thy boasted blood, a thousand years or so,
198 May from Lucretia to Lucretia flow;
199 But by your Father's worth if yours you rate,
200 Count me those only who were good and great.
201 Go! if your antient but ignoble blood
202 Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the Flood,
203 Go! and pretend your family is young;
204 Not own your fathers have been fools so long.
205 What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
206 Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
207 [Footnote: 1Kb] Look next on Greatness, say where Greatness lies?
208 "Where, but among the Heroes, and the Wise?
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209 Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed,
210 From Macedonia's Madman to the Swede;
211 The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find
212 Or make, an enemy of all mankind;
213 Not one looks backward, onward still he goes,
214 Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose.
215 No less alike the Politick and wise,
216 All sly, slow things, with circumspective eyes;
217 Men in their loose, unguarded hours they take,
218 Nor that themselves are wife, but others weak.
219 But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat,
220 'Tis phrase absurd to call a Villain Great:
221 Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
222 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
223 Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
224 Or failing, smiles in Exile or in chains,
225 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
226 Like Socrates, that man is great indeed,
227 [Footnote: 1Kb] What's Fame? that fancy'd life in others breath,
228 A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death.
229 Just what you hear, you have, and what's unknown
230 The same (my Lord) if Tully's, or your own.
231 All that we feel of it begins and ends
232 In the small circle of our foes or friends;
233 To all beside, as much an empty shade
234 An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead,
235 Alike, or when or where, they shone or shine,
236 Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
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237 A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod;
238 An honest man's the noblest work of God:
239 Fame but from death a villain's name can save,
240 As Justice tears his body from the grave;
241 When what t'oblivion better were resign'd
242 Is hung on high, to poison half mankind.
243 All fame is foreign, but of true Desert,
244 Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
245 One self-approving hour whole years out-weighs
246 Of stupid starers, and of loud huzza's;
247 And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
248 Than Cæsar with a Senate at his heels.
249 [Footnote: 1Kb] In Parts superior what advantage lies!
250 Tell (for You can) what is it to be wise?
251 'Tis but to know, how little can be known;
252 To see all others faults, and feel our own;
253 Condemn'd, in business or in arts, to drudge
254 Without a Second, or without a Judge:
255 Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
256 All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
257 Painful Preheminence! your self to view
258 Above Life's weakness, and its Comforts too.
259 Bring then these blessings to a strict account,
260 Make fair deductions, see to what they mount?
261 How much of other each is sure to cost?
262 How each for other oft is wholly lost?
263 How inconsistent greater goods with these?
264 How sometimes Life is risqu'd, and always Ease?
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265 Think, and if still the things thy envy call,
266 Say, wouldst thou be the Man to whom they fall?
267 To sigh for ribbands if thou art so silly,
268 Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy:
269 Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
270 Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife:
271 If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
272 The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind,
273 Or ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
274 See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!
275 If all, united, thy ambition call,
276 From ancient Story learn to scorn them all.
277 There, in the rich, the honour'd, fam'd, and great,
278 See the false scale of Happiness compleat!
279 In hearts of Kings or arms of Queens who lay,
280 (How happy!) those to ruin, these betray:
281 Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows,
282 From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose;
283 In each, how guilt and greatness equal ran,
284 And all that rais'd the Hero, sunk the Man.
285 Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
286 But stain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd for gold:
287 Then see them broke with Toils, or sunk in Ease,
288 Or infamous for plunder'd Provinces.
289 Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame
290 E'er taught to shine, or sanctify'd from shame!
291 What greater bliss attends their close of life?
292 Some greedy Minion, or imperious Wife,
293 The trophy'd Arches, story'd Halls invade,
294 And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade.
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295 Alas! not dazled with their noontide ray,
296 Compute the morn and evening to the day:
297 The whole amount of that enormous fame,
298 A Tale! that blends their Glory with their Shame.
299 Know then this truth (enough for man to know)
300 [Footnote: 1Kb] "Virtue alone is Happiness below:
301 The only point where human bliss stands still,
302 And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
303 Where only, merit constant pay receives,
304 Is bless'd in what it takes, and what it gives;
305 The joy unequal'd, if its end it gain,
306 And if it lose, attended with no pain;
307 Without satiety, tho' e'er so bless'd,
308 And but more relish'd as the more distress'd;
309 The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears,
310 Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears:
311 Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd;
312 For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd;
313 Never elated, while one man's oppress'd,
314 Never dejected, while another's bless'd;
315 And where no wants, no wishes can remain,
316 Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain.
317 See! the sole bliss Heav'n could on All bestow,
318 [Footnote: 1Kb] Which who but feels, can taste, but thinks, can know:
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319 Yet poor with Fortune, and with Learning blind,
320 The bad must miss, the good untaught will find;
321 Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
322 But looks thro' Nature up to Nature's God;
323 Pursues that chain which links th'immense design,
324 Joins Heav'n and Earth, and mortal, and divine;
325 Sees, that no being any bliss can know;
326 But touches some above, and some below;
327 Learns, from this Union of the rising Whole,
328 The first, last purpose of the human soul;
329 And knows, where Faith, Law, Morals all began,
330 All end, in Love of God, and Love of Man.
331 For him alone, Hope leads from gole to gole,
332 And opens still, and opens on his soul;
333 Till lengthen'd on to Faith, and unconfin'd,
334 It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind.
335 He sees, why Nature plants in Man alone
336 Hope of known bliss, and Faith in bliss unknown:
337 (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind
338 Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek, they find)
339 Wise in the Present: she connects in this
340 His greatest Virtue with his greatest Bliss,
341 At once his own bright prospect to be blest,
342 And strongest motive to assist the rest.
343 Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine,
344 Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine:
345 Is this too little for the boundless heart?
346 Extend it, let thy Enemies have part:
347 Grasp the whole worlds, of reason, life, and sense,
348 In one close system of Benevolence.
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349 Happier, as kinder! in whate'er degree,
350 And height of Bliss but height of Charity.
351 God loves from whole to parts: but human soul
352 Must rise from individual to the whole.
353 Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,
354 As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;
355 The centre mov'd, a circle strait succeeds;
356 Another still, and still another spreads;
357 Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace,
358 His country next, and next all human-race;
359 Wide, and more wide, th'o'erflowings of the mind
360 Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind;
361 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest,
362 And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast.
363 Come then, my Friend! my Genius come along,
364 Oh master of the Poet, and the Song!
365 And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends,
366 To Man's low passions, or their glorious Ends,
367 Teach me like thee, in various nature wise,
368 To fall with dignity, with temper rise;
369 Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer
370 From grave to gay, from lively to severe;
371 Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,
372 Intent to reason, or polite to please.
373 O! while along the stream of Time, thy name
374 Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
375 Say, shall my little bark attendant sail,
376 Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
377 When Statesmen, Heroes, Kings, in dust repose,
378 Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes.
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379 Shall then this verse to future age pretend
380 Thou wert my Guide, Philosopher, and Friend?
381 That urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art
382 From sounds to things, from Fancy to the Heart;
383 For Wit's false mirror held up Nature's light;
384 Shew'd erring Pride, whatever Is, is Right;
385 That Reason, Passion, answer one great Aim;
386 That true Self-love and Social are the same;
387 That Virtue only makes our Bliss below;
388 And all our Knowledge is, Ourselves to know.
End of the First Book.
[Page]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:ETHIC EPISTLES, THE SECOND BOOK. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page]
THE CONTENTS.
EPISTLE I. Of the Knowledge and Characters of
Men, To Sir Richard Temple, Lord Viscount Cobham.
That for this Knowledge it is not sufficient to consider
Man in the Abstract: Books will not serve
the purpose, nor yet our own Observation, singly,
Ver. 1. General Maxims, unless they be form'd upon
both, will be but notional, 10. Some Peculiarity in every
Man, characteristic to himself, yet varying from himself,
15; the further difficulty of separating and fixing
this, arising from our own Passions, Fancies, Faculties, &c.
23. The shortness of life, to observe in, and the uncertainty
of the Principles of Action in Men, to observe by,
29. Our own Principle of Action often hid from ourselves,
41. No judging of the Motives from the Actions:
the same Actions proceeding from contrary Motives, and
the same Motives influencing contrary Actions, 51 to 70.
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, 71. Characters given according to the Rank
of Men in the World, and some Reason for it, 87. Education
alters the Nature, or at least Character of many,
101. Some few Characters plain, but in general
confounded, dissembled, or inconsistent, 122. The same
Man utterly different in different places and seasons, 130.
Unimaginable Weakness in the Greatest, 140. Nothing
constant and certain but God and Nature. Of Man
[Page]
we cannot judge, by his Nature, his Actions, his Passions,
his Opinions, his Manners, Humours, or Principles, all
subject to change, 160, &c. It only remains to find (if
we can) his Ruling Passion. That will certainly
influence all the rest, and only can reconcile the seeming
or real Inconsistency of his Actions, 176. Instanced in
the extraordinary Character of Clodio, 181. A Caution
against mistaking second Qualities for first, which will
destroy all possibility of the Knowledge of Mankind,
212. Examples of the Strength of the Ruling Passion,
and its Continuation to the last breath, 224, &c.
EPISTLE II. Of the Characters of Women. To a Lday.
Of the Characters of Women (consider'd only as
contradistinguished from the other Sex.) That these are
yet more incosistent and incomprehensible than those
of Men, of which Instances are given even from such
Characters as are plainest, and most strongly mark'd;
as in the Affected, Ver. 7, &c. The Soft-natur'd. 29.
the Cunning, 45. the Whimsical, 50. the Wits and
Refiners, 69. the Stupid and Silly. 80. How Contrarieties
run thro' them all.
But tho' the Particular Characters of this Sex are
more various than those of Men, the General Characteristick,
as to the Ruling Passion, is more uniform and
confin'd. In what That lies, and whence it proceeds,
109, &c. Men are best known in public Life, Women
in private, 110. What are the Aims, and the Fate
of the Sex, both as to Power and Pleasure? 121, 133,
&c. Advice for their true Interest, 151. The Picture
of an esteemable Woman, made up of the best Kind of
Contrarieties. 171, &c.
[Page]
EPISTLE III. Of the Use of Riches, To Allen Lord Bathurst.
The true Use of Riches known to few, most falling
into one of the Extremes, Avarice or Profusion,
Ver. 1, &c. The Point discuss'd whether the Invention
of Money was more commodious or pernicious to Mankind,
21 to 28. Riches can scarce afford Necessaries
either to the Avaritious or Prodigal, much less any
happiness, 81, &c. It is never for their own Families, or
for the Poor, that Misers covet Wealth, but a direct
Phrensy without an end or purpose, 100. Conjectures
about the Motives of avaricious men, to 152. That it
can only be accounted for by the Order of Providence,
which works General Good out of Extremes,
and brings all to its Great End by perpetual Revolutions,
153 to 178. A Picture of a Miser acting upon Principles
which appear to him reasonable, 179. Another of
a Prodigal acting on the contrary Principles, which seem
to him equally right, 199. The due Medium and true
Use of Riches, 219 to 248. The Character and Praises
of the Man of Ross, 250. The Fate of the Covetous,
and of the Profuse, in Two Examples, 298, and 315.
That both are miserable, in Life and in Death. The
Tale of Sir Balaam, the Degrees of Corruption by
Riches, and the Consequences, 339, &c.
EPISTLE IV. Of the same, To Richard E. of Burlington.
The Extremes of Avarice and Profusion being
treated of in the foregoing Epistle, this takes up
one particular Branch of the latter; the Vanity of Expence
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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,
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, 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, 65, &c. to 90. 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, 93. and the second, either in joining together
Parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the
Repetition of the same too frequently, 103, &c. A word
or two of False Taste in Books, in Musick, in Painting,
even in Preaching and Prayer, and lastly in Entertainments,
125, &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,
161. (recurring to what is laid down in the first book,
Epist. 2. and in the Epistle preceding this, V. 165)
What are the proper Objects of Magnificence, and a proper
Field for the Expence of Great Men, 169, &c.
and finally the Great and Publick Works which
become a Prince, 187 to the End.
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Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE I.
TO Sir Richard Temple, Lord Viscount Cobham. [from The Works (1736)]
1 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yes, you despise the Man to books confin'd,
2 Who from his Study rails at human kind;
3 Tho' what he learns he speaks, and may advance
4 Some gen'ral maxims, or be right by chance.
5 The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave,
6 That from his cage cries cuckold, whore, and knave,
7 Tho' many a passenger he rightly call,
8 You hold him no Philosopher at all.
9 And yet the fate of all Extremes is such,
10 [Footnote: 1Kb] Men may be read, as well as books, too much,
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11 To observations which ourselves we make,
12 We grow more partial for th'Observer's sake;
13 To written wisdom, as another's, less:
14 Maxims are drawn from Notions, these from Guess.
15 [Footnote: 1Kb] There's some Peculiar in each Leaf and Grain;
16 Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein:
17 Shall only Man be taken in the gross?
18 [Footnote: 1Kb] Grant but as many sorts of mind, as Moss.
19 [Footnote: 1Kb] That each from other differs, first confess;
20 Next, that he varies from himself no less:
21 Add Nature's, Custom's, Reason's, Passion's strife,
22 And all Opinion's colours cast on Life.
23 Yet more; the diff'rence is as great between
24 The Optics seeing, as the objects seen.
25 All Manners take a tincture from our own,
26 Or come discolour'd thro' our Passions shown,
27 Or Fancy's beam inlarges, multiplies,
28 Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
29 [Footnote: 1Kb] Our Depths who fathoms, or our Shallows finds?
30 Quick Whirls, and shifting Eddies, of our minds?
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31 Life's stream for observation will not stay,
32 It hurries all too fast to mark their way:
33 In vain sedate reflections we would make,
34 When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.
35 On human actions reason tho' you can,
36 It may be Reason, but it is not Man;
37 His Principle of action once explore,
38 That instant, 'tis his principle no more;
39 Like following life thro' Creatures you dissect,
40 You lose it, in the moment you detect.
41 [Footnote: 1Kb] Oft, in the Passions wild rotation tost,
42 Our Spring of action to ourselves is lost:
43 Tir'd, not determin'd, to the last we yield,
44 And what comes then is master of the field.
45 As the last Image of that troubled heap
46 When sense subsides, and Fancy sports in sleep,
47 (Tho' past the recollection of the thought)
48 Becomes the stuff of which our Dream is wrought;
49 Something, as dim to our internal view,
50 Is thus perhaps the cause of all we do.
51 [Footnote: 1Kb] In vain the grave, with retrospective eye,
52 Would from th'apparent what conclude the why,
53 Infer the Motive from the Deed, and show
54 That what we chanc'd, was what we meant to do.
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55 Behold! if Fortune, or a Mistress frowns,
56 Some plunge in bus'ness, others shave their crowns:
57 To ease the soul of one oppressive weight,
58 This quits an Empire, that embroils a State:
59 The same adust complexion has impell'd
60 [Footnote: 1Kb] Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Field.
61 Not always Actions shew the Man: we find,
62 Who does a kindness is not therefore kind;
63 Perhaps Prospertity becalm'd his breast;
64 Perhaps the Wind just shifted from the east.
65 Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat,
66 Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the Great.
67 Who combats bravely, is not therefore brave;
68 He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave.
69 Who reasons wisely, is not therefore wise;
70 His pride in reas'ning, not in acting lies.
71 [Footnote: 1Kb] But grant that Actions best discover man;
72 Take the most strong, and sort them as you can:
73 The few that glare, each Character must mark,
74 You balance not the many in the dark.
75 What will you do with such as disagree?
76 Suppress them, or miscall them Policy?
77 Must then at once (the character to save)
78 A plain, rough Hero turn a crafty knave?
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79 Alas! in truth the man but chang'd his mind,
80 Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not din'd.
81 Ask why from Britain, Cæsar made retreat?
82 Cæsar perhaps had told you, he was beat.
83 The mighty Czar what mov'd to wed a punk?
84 The mighty Czar might answer, he was drunk.
85 But sage Historians! 'tis your task to prove
86 One action Conduct, one Heroic love.
87 [Footnote: 1Kb] 'Tis from high Life high Characters are drawn;
88 A Saint in crape, is twice a Saint in lawn;
89 A Judge is just, a Chanc'lor juster still;
90 A Gownman learn'd; a Bishop, what you will;
91 Wise, if a Minister; but if a King,
92 More wise, more learn'd, more just, more ev'ry thing.
93 Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate,
94 Born where heav'n's influence scarce can penetrate.
95 In life's low vale, (the soil the Virtues like)
96 They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
97 Tho' the same Sun with all diffusive rays
98 Blush in the rose, and in the diamond blaze,
99 We prize the stronger effort of his pow'r,
100 And always set the gem above the flow'r.
101 [Footnote: 1Kb] 'Tis Education forms the vulgar mind:
102 Just as the Twig is bent, the Tree's inclin'd.
103 Boastful and rough, your first son is a Squire;
104 The next a Tradesman, meek, and much a liar:
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105 Tom struts a Soldier, open, bold, and brave;
106 Will sneaks a Scriv'ner, an exceeding knave:
107 Is he a Churchman? then he's fond of pow'r;
108 A Quaker? sly; a Presbyterian? sour;
109 A smart Free thinker? all things in an hour.
110 [Footnote: 1Kb] True, some are open and to all Men known;
111 Others so very close, they're hid from none;
112 (So darkness fills the Eye no less than Light)
113 Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight:
114 And ev'ry child hates Shylock, tho' his Soul
115 Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole.
116 At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves,
117 All know 'tis Virtue, for he thinks them knaves.
118 When universal homage Umbra pays,
119 All see 'tis Vice, and itch of vulgar praise.
120 Who but detests th'Endearments of Courtine?
121 While One there is, who charms us with his Spleen.
122 [Footnote: 1Kb] But these plain Characters we rarely find,
123 Tho' strong the bent, yet quick the turns of mind:
124 Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole,
125 Or Affectations quite reverse the Soul:
126 The dull, flat Falsehood serves for policy,
127 And in the cunning, Truth itself's a lye:
128 Unthought of Frailties cheat us in the Wise;
129 The Fool lies hid in Inconsistencies.
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130 [Footnote: 1Kb] See the same man, in vigour, in the gout;
131 Alone, in company; in place, or out;
132 Early at bus'ness, and at Hazard late;
133 Mad at a fox-chase, wise at a debate;
134 Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball;
135 Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall.
136 [Footnote: 1Kb] Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
137 Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave;
138 Save just at Dinner---then prefers no doubt,
139 A rogue with Ven'son to a saint without.
140 Who would not praise Patritio's high desert?
141 His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
142 His comprehensive head; all Int'rests weigh'd,
143 All Europe sav'd, yet Britain not betray'd.
144 He thanks you not; his pride was in Piquette,
145 Newmarket-fame, and judgment at a bett.
146 Triumphant Leaders, at an Army's head,
147 Hemm'd round with glories, pilfer cloth or bread,
148 As meanly plunder, as they bravely fought,
149 Now save a People, and now save a groat.
150 What made (say Montagne, or more sage Charron!)
151 Otho a Warrior, Cromwell a Buffoon?
152 [Footnote: 1Kb] A perjur'd Prince a leaden Saint revere?
153 A god-less Regent tremble at a Star?
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154 The throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
155 [Footnote: 1Kb] Faithless thro' Piety, and dup'd thro' Wit?
156 Europe, a Woman, child, or dotard rule;
157 And just her ablest Monarch made a fool?
158 [Footnote: 1Kb] Know, God and Nature only are the same:
159 In Man, the judgment shoots at flying game;
160 A bird of passage! lost, as soon as found;
161 Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground!
162 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ask mens Opinions: Scoto now shall tell
163 How trade increases, and the world goes well;
164 Strike off his pension by the setting sun,
165 And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.
166 Manners with Fortunes, Humours change with Climes,
167 Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.
168 Judge we by Nature? Habit can efface,
169 Int'rest o'ercome, or Policy take place:
170 By Actions? those Uncertainty divides:
171 By Passions? these Dissimulation hides:
172 Affections? they still take a wider range:
173 Find, if you can, in what you cannot change?
174 'Tis in the ruling Passion: there alone,
175 [Footnote: 1Kb] The wild are constant, and the cunning known,
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176 The fool consistent, and the false sincere;
177 Priests, Princes, Women, no dissemblers here.
178 This clue once found, unravels all the rest;
179 The prospect clears, and Clodio stands confest.
180 Clodio, the Scorn and Wonder of our days,
181 Whose ruling passion was the Lust of Praise;
182 Born with whate'er could win it from the wise,
183 Women and fools must like him, or he dies.
184 Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke,
185 The Club must hail him Master of the Joke.
186 Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?
187 He'll shine a Tully, and a Wilmot too:
188 Then turns repentant, and his God adores
189 With the same spirit that he drinks and whores:
190 Enough, if all around him but admire,
191 And now the Punk applaud, and now the Fry'r.
192 Thus, with each gift of Nature and of Art,
193 And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
194 Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt,
195 And most contemptible to shun contempt;
196 His Passion still to covet gen'ral praise;
197 His Life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;
198 A constant Bounty, which no friend has made;
199 An Angel Tongue which no man can persuade;
200 A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind;
201 Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd;
202 A Tyrant to the Wife his heart approves;
203 A Rebel to the very King he loves;
204 He dies, sad out-cast of each Church and State!
205 And (harder still) flagitious, yet not great.
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206 Ask you why Clodio broke thro' every rule?
207 'Twas all for fear, the Knaves should call him fool.
208 Nature well known, no Miracles remain,
209 Comets are regular, and Clodio plain.
210 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yet in the search, the wisest may mistake,
211 If second Qualities for first they take.
212 When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store,
213 When Cæsar made a noble dame a whore,
214 In this the Lust, in that the Avarice
215 Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice.
216 That very Cæsar, born in Scipio's days,
217 Had aim'd, like him, by Chastity at praise:
218 Lucullus, when Frugality could charm,
219 Had roasted turnips in the Sabin farm.
220 In vain th'Observer eyes the builder's toil,
221 But quite mistakes the Scaffold for the Pile.
222 [Footnote: 1Kb] In this one Passion man can strength enjoy,
223 As Fits give vigour, just when they destroy.
224 Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
225 Yet tames not this: it sticks to our last sand.
226 Consistent in our follies, and our sins,
227 Here honest Nature ends as she begins.
228 Behold a rev'rend Sire, whom want of grace
229 Has made the father of a nameless race,
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230 Crawl thro' the street, shov'd on, or rudely press'd
231 By his own sons that pass him by unbless'd!
232 Still to his Wench he creeps on knocking knees,
233 And envies ev'ry Sparrow that he sees.
234 A Salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate:
235 The Doctor call'd declares all help too late.
236 Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my soul!
237 Is there no hope? alas?---then bring the Jowl.
238 "Odious! in Woollen! 'twou'd a Saint provoke,
239 (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke)
240 "No, let a charming Chintz, and Brussels lace
241 "Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face:
242 "One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead---
243 "And, Betty! gives this cheek a little red.
244 Old Politicians chew on Wisdom past,
245 And blunder on in bus'ness to the last;
246 As weak as earnest; and as gravely out,
247 [Footnote: 1Kb] As sober Lanesb'row, dancing in the Gout.
248 The Courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd
249 An humble servant to all human kind,
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250 Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir,
251 "If---where I'm going---I could serve you, Sir."
252 "I give and I devise (old Euclio said,
253 And sigh'd) "my Lands and Tenements to Ned."
254 Your Money, sir? "My Money, sir! what all?
255 "Why---if I must---(then wept) I give it Paul."
256 The Mannor, Sir? "The Mannor! hold, he cry'd,
257 "Not that---I cannot part with that"---and dy'd.
258 And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath,
259 Shall feel your ruling Passion strong in death:
260 Such in those moments, as in all the past,
261 "Oh save my Country, Heav'n!" shall be your last.
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Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE III.
To the Right Honourable Allen Lord Bathurst. [from The Works (1736)]
Of the use of Riches. That the true use of
Riches is known to few, most falling into one of the
Extremes, Avarice or Profusion. V. 1. &c.
1 Who shall decide, when Doctors disagree,
2 And soundest Casuists doubt like you and me?
3 You hold the Word, from Jove to Momus giv'n,
4 That man was made the standing jest of heav'n,
5 And Gold but sent to keep the fools in play,
6 For half to heap, and half to throw away.
7 But I, who think more highly of our kind,
8 (And surely Heav'n and I are of a mind)
9 Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
10 Deep hid the shining mischief under ground:
11 But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
12 Flam'd forth this rival to its sire, the Sun,
13 Then, in plain prose, were made two sorts of men,
14 To squander some, and some to hide agen.
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15 Like Doctors thus, when much dispute has past,
16 We find our Tenets just the same at last.
17 Both fairly owning, Riches in effect
18 No grace of Heav'n, or token of th'Elect;
19 Giv'n to the Fool, the mad, the vain, the evil.
20 [Footnote: 5Kb] To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil.
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21 [Footnote: 1Kb] What Nature wants, commodious Gold bestows,
22 'Tis thus we eat the bread another sows:
23 But how unequal it bestows, observe,
24 'Tis thus we riot, while who sow it starve.
25 What Nature wants (a phrase I much distrust)
26 Extends to Luxury, extends to Lust;
27 And if we count among the needs of life
28 Another's Toil, why not another's Wife?
29 Useful, we grant, it serves what life requires,
30 But dreadful too, the dark Assassin hires:
31 Trade it may help, Society extend;
32 But lures the Pyrate, and corrupts the Friend:
33 It raises armies in a Nation's aid,
34 But bribes a Senate, and the land's betray'd.
35 Oh! that such bulky Bribes as all might see
36 Still, as of old, encumber'd Villainy!
37 In vain may Heroes fight, and Patriots rave,
38 If secret Gold saps on from knave to knave.
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39 Could France or Rome divert our brave designs,
40 With all their brandies, or with all their wines?
41 What could they more than knights and squires confound,
42 Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?
43 A Statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil!
44 "Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oyl;
45 "Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door;
46 "A hundred Oxon at your Levee roar.
47 Poor Avarice one torment more would find,
48 Nor could Profusion squander all, in kind.
49 Astride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet,
50 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Worldly crying coals from street to street,
51 (Whom with a wig so wild, and mien so maz'd,
52 Pity mistakes for some poor Tradesman craz'd.)
53 [Footnote: 1Kb] Had Colepeper's whole wealth been hops and hogs
54 Could he himself have sent it to the dogs?
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55 His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
56 With spurning heels, and with a butting head;
57 To White's be carry'd, as to ancient Games,
58 Fair Coursers, Vases, and alluring Dames.
59 Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
60 Bear home six whores, and make his Lady weep?
61 Or soft Adonis, so perfum'd and fine,
62 Drive to St. James's a whole herd of Swine?
63 Oh filthy check on all industrious skill,
64 To spoil the Nation's last great Trade Quadrille!
65 [Footnote: 1Kb] Once, we confess, beneath the Patriot's cloak,
66 From the crack'd bagg the dropping Guinea spoke,
67 And gingling down the back stairs, told the crew,
68 "Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
69 Blest Paper-credit! that advanc'd so high,
70 Now lends Corruption lighter wings to fly!
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71 Gold, imp'd with this, can compass hardest things,
72 [Footnote: 1Kb] Can pocket States, or fetch or carry Kings;
73 A single leaf can waft an Army o'er,
74 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or ship off Senates to some distant shore;
75 [Footnote: 1Kb] A leaf like Sybil's, scatters to and fro
76 Our fates and fortunes as the winds shall blow;
77 Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen,
78 And silent sells a King, or buys a Queen.
79 Well then, since with the world we stand or fall,
80 Come take it as we find it, Gold and all.
81 [Footnote: 1Kb] What Riches give us, let us first enquire;
82 Meat, fire, and cloaths. What more? meat, cloaths, and fire
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83 Is this too little? wou'd you more than live?
84 [Footnote: 1Kb] Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
85 Alas 'tis more than (all his Visions past)
86 [Footnote: 1Kb] Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
87 [Footnote: 1Kb] What can they give? to dying Hopkins Heirs?
88 [Footnote: 1Kb] To Chartres Vigour, Japhet Nose and ears?
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89 Can they in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
90 In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below,
91 Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail,
92 With all th'embroid'ry plaister'd at thy tail?
93 They might, (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
94 Give Harpax self the blessing of a Friend;
95 Or find some Doctor that would save the life
96 Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's Wife;
97 But thousands die, without or this or that,
98 [Footnote: 1Kb] Die, and endow a College, or a Cat:
99 To some indeed heav'n grants the happier fate
100 T'enrich a bastard, or a son they hate.
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101 Perhaps you think the Poor might have their part?
102 [Footnote: 2Kb] Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his heart:
103 The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule,
104 That "every man in want is knave or fool:
105 "God cannot love (says Blunt, with lifted eyes)
106 "The wretch he starves"---and piously denies:
107 But rev'rend S--n with a softer air,
108 Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.
109 Yet, to be just to these poor men of pelf,
110 [Footnote: 1Kb] Each does but hate his Neighbour as himself:
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111 Damn'd to the Mines, and equal fate betides
112 The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides.
113 Who suffer thus, meer charity should own
114 Must act on motives pow'rful tho' unknown:
115 Some War, some Plague, some Famine they foresee,
116 Some Revelation, hid from you and me.
117 Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found,
118 He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound.
119 What made Directors cheat in South-sea year?
120 [Footnote: 1Kb] To live on ven'son when it sold so dear.
121 As you why Phryne the whole Auction buys?
122 [Footnote: 1Kb] Phryne foresees a General Excise,
123 Why she and Sapho raise that monstrous sum?
124 Alas! they fear a Man will cost a plum.
125 [Footnote: 1Kb] Wise Peter sees the World's respect for Gold,
126 And therefore hopes this Nation may be sold:
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127 Glorious Ambition! Peter, swell thy store,
128 [Footnote: 1Kb] And be what Rome's great, Didius was before.
129 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Crown of Poland, venal twice an age,
130 To just three millions stinted modest Gage.
131 But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold,
132 Hereditary Realms, and worlds of gold.
133 Congenial souls! whose life one Av'rice joins,
134 And one fate buries in th'Asturian Mines.
135 [Footnote: 2Kb] Much injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's hate?
136 A Wizard told him in these words our fate.
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137 "At length, Corruption, like a gen'ral flood,
138 "(So long by watchful Ministers withstood)
139 "Shall deluge all; and Av'rice creeping on
140 "Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the Sun:
141 "Statesman and Patriot ply alike the stocks;
142 "Peeress and Butler share alike the Box;
143 "The Judge shall job, the Bishop bite the town,
144 "And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown:
145 "See Britain sunk in Lucre's sordid charms,
146 "And France reveng'd of Anne's and Edward's Arms!"
147 No gay Court-badge, great Scriv'ner! fir'd thy brain,
148 Nor Lordly Luxury, nor City Gain:
149 No, 'twas thy righteous end, asham'd to see
150 Senates degen'rate, Patriots disagree,
151 And nobly wishing Party-rage to cease,
152 To buy both sides, and give thy Country peace.
153 All this is madness, cries a sober Sage:
154 But who, my friend, has reason in his Rage?
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155 "The ruling Passion, be it what it will,
156 "The ruling Passion conquers reason still.
157 Less mad the wildest whimsey we can frame,
158 Than ev'n that passion, if it has no aim;
159 For tho' such motives folly you may call,
160 The folly's greater to have none at all.
161 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hear then the truth: "'Tis Heav'n each Passion sends,
162 "And diff'rent men directs to diff'rent ends.
163 "Extremes in Nature equal good produce,
164 "Extremes in Man concur to genral use.
165 Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
166 That Pow'r who bids the Ocean ebb and flow,
167 Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain,
168 Thro' reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
169 Builds Life on death, on Change duration founds,
170 And gives th'eternal wheels to know their rounds.
171 Riches, like Insects, when conceal'd they lie,
172 Wait but for wings, and in their season, fly.
173 Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
174 Sees but a backward Steward for the poor;
175 This year a Reservoir, to keep and spare,
176 The next, a Fountain spouting thro' his Heir,
177 In lavish streams to quench a Country's thirst,
178 And men, and dogs, shall drink him till they burst.
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179 Old Cotta sham'd his Fortune, and his Birth,
180 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yet was not Cotta void of wit, or worth:
181 What tho' (the use of barb'rous spits forgot)
182 His kitchen vy'd in coolness with his Grot?
183 His court with nettles, moat with cresses stor'd,
184 [Footnote: 1Kb] With soups unbought, and sallads, blest his board.
185 If Cotta liv'd on pulse, it was no more
186 Than Bramins, Saints, and Sages did before;
187 To cram the rich, was prodigal expence,
188 And who would take the poor from Providence?
189 Like some lone Chartreuse stands the good old hall,
190 Silence without, and fasts within the wall;
191 No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound;
192 No noontide-bell invites the country round;
193 Tenants with sights the smoakless towr's survey,
194 And turn th'unwilling Steed another way:
195 Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er,
196 Curse the sav'd candle, and unopening door;
197 While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate,
198 Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.
199 [Footnote: 1Kb] Not so his Son; he mark'd this oversight,
200 And then mistook reverse of wrong for right;
201 For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
202 But what to follow, is a task indeed.
[Page 38]
203 Whole slaughter'd hecatombs, and floods of wine,
204 Fill the capacious Squire, and deep Divine.
205 Yet no mean motive this profusion draws,
206 His Oxen perish in his Country's cause:
207 'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup,
208 And Zeal for that great House which eats him up.
209 The woods recede around the naked seat,
210 The Sylvans groan---no matter---for the Fleet.
211 Next goes his wool, to clothe our valiant bands,
212 Last, for his Country's love, he sells his lands.
213 To town he comes, compleats the nation's hope,
214 And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a Pope.
215 And shall not Britain now reward his toils?
216 (Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils?)
217 In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his cause,
218 His thankless country leaves him to her Laws.
219 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Sense to value riches, with the Art
220 T'enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart,
221 Not meanly, nor ambitiously persu'd
222 Not sunk by sloth, nor rais'd by servitude;
223 To balance Fortune by a just expence,
224 Join with Oeconomy, Magnificence,
225 With splendor, charity, with plenty, health;
226 Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoild by wealth!
227 That secret rare, between th'extremes to move
228 Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self-love.
229 To Want, or Worth, well-weigh'd, be bounty giv'n,
230 And ease, or emulate, the care of Heav'n.
[Page 39]
231 Whose measure full o'erflows on human race,
232 Mends fortune's fault, and justifies her grace.
233 Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus'd,
234 As Poison heals, in just proportion us'd:
235 In heaps, like Ambergrise, a stink it lies,
236 But well dispers'd, is Incence to the skies.
237 Who starves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats?
238 The Wretch that trusts them, and the Rogue that cheats.
239 Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful noon
240 Without a Fidler, Flatt'rer, or Buffoon?
241 Whose table, Wit, or modest Merit share,
242 Un-elbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or Play'r?
243 [Footnote: 1Kb] Who copies Yours, or Oxford's better part,
244 To ease th'oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart?
245 Where-e'er he shines, oh Fortune gild the scene,
246 And Angels guard him in the Golden Mean!
247 There, English Bounty yet a while may stand,
248 And Honour linger, e're it leaves the land.
249 But all our praises why should Lords engross?
250 [Footnote: 1Kb]
Rise honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross:
[Page 40]
251 Pleas'd Vaga ecchoes thro' her winding bounds,
252 And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
253 Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
254 From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
255 Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
256 Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
257 But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain
258 Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
259 Whose cause-way parts the vale with shady rows?
260 Whose seats the weary Traveller repose?
261 Who taught that heav'n directed Spire to rise?
262 The Man of Ross, each lisping babe replies.
263 Behold the Market-place with poor o'erspread!
264 The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread:
265 He feeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void of state,
266 Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate:
267 Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans blest,
268 The young who labour, and the old who rest.
269 Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves,
270 Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
271 Is there a variance? enter but his door,
272 Balk'd are the Courts, and contest is no more.
273 Despairing Quacks with curses fled the place,
274 And vile Attornies, now an useless race.
275 "Thrice happy man! enabled to persue
276 "What all so wish, but want the pow'r to do.
[Page 41]
277 "Oh say, what sums that gen'rous hand supply?
278 "What mines, to swell that boundless charity?
279 Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear,
280 This man possest---five hundred pounds a year,
281 Blush Grandeur, blush! proud Courts withdraw your blaze!
282 Ye little Stars! hide your diminished rays.
283 "And what? no monument, inscription, stone?
284 "His race, his form, his name almost unknown?
285 Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame,
286 Will never mark the marble with his name:
287 Go search it there [Footnote: 1Kb] , where to be born and die,
288 Of rich and poor makes all the history;
289 Enough, that Virtue fill'd the space between;
290 Prov'd, by the Ends of Being, to have been.
291 When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend
292 The wretch, who living sav'd a candle's end:
293 Should'ring God's alter a vile image stands,
294 Belies his features, nay extends his hands,
295 That live-long wig which Gorgon's self might own,
296 [Footnote: 1Kb] Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.
297 Behold what blessings Wealth to life can lend!
298 And see, what comfort it affords our end.
299 [Footnote: 1Kb] In the worst Inn's worst room, with mat half-hung
300 The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung.
[Page 42]
301 On once a flockbed, but repair'd with straw,
302 With tape-ty'd curtains never meant to draw,
303 The George and Garter dangling from that bed
304 Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red,
305 [Footnote: 1Kb] Great Villers lies---alas! how chang'd from him,
306 That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim!
307 Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,
308 The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and love;
309 Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring
310 Of mimick'd Statesmen, and their merry King.
311 No Wit to flatter, left of all his store!
312 No Fool to laugh at, which he valued more.
313 There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends,
314 And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
315 His Grace's fate sage Cutler could foresee,
316 And well (he thought) advis'd him, "Live like me."
317 As well his Grace reply'd, "Like you, Sir John?
318 "That I can do, when all I have is gone."
319 Resolve me, Reason, which of these is worse,
320 Want with a full, or with an empty purse?
321 Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confess'd,
322 Arise and tell me, was thy death more bless'd?
323 Cutler saw tenants break, and houses fall,
324 For very want; he could not build a wall.
325 His only daughter in a stranger's pow'r,
326 For very want; he could not pay a dow'r.
[Page 43]
327 A few grey hairs his rev'rend temples crown'd,
328 For very want, he sold them for two pound.
329 What ev'n deny'd a cordial at his end,
330 Banish'd the doctor, and expell'd the friend?
331 What but a want, which you perhaps think mad
332 Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had.
333 Cutler and Brutus, dying both exclaim,
334 "Virtue! and Wealth! what are ye but a name?
335 Say, for such worth are other worlds prepar'd?
336 Or are they both, in this, their own reward?
337 That knotty point, my Lord, shall I discuss,
338 Or tell a Tale?---A Tale---it follows thus.
339 [Footnote: 1Kb] Where London's Column pointing at the skies,
340 Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lyes;
341 There dwelt a Citizen of sober fame,
342 A plain good man, and Balaam was his name.
343 Religious, punctal, frugal, and so forth;
344 His word would pass for more than he was worth.
345 One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
346 An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's,
347 Constant at Church, and Change; his gains were sure,
348 His givings rare, save farthings to the poor.
349 The Dev'l was piqu'd, such saintship to behold,
350 And long'd to tempt him like good Job of old:
351 But Satan now is wiser than of yore,
352 And tempts by making rich, not making poor.
[Page 44]
353 Rouz'd by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds sweep
354 The surge, and plunge, his Father in the deep;
355 Then full against his Cornish lands they roar,
356 And two rich ship-wrecks blest the lucky shore.
357 Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks.
358 He takes his chirping pint, he cracks his jokes:
359 "Live like your self," was soon my Lady's word;
360 And lo! two puddings smoak'd upon the board.
361 Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
362 An honest Factor stole a Gem away:
363 He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had wit,
364 So kept the Diamond, and the rogue was bit.
365 Some Scruple rose, but thus he eas'd his thought,
366 "I'll now give six-pence where I gave a groat,
367 "Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice---
368 "And am so clear too of all other vice."
369 The Tempter saw his time? the work he ply'd;
370 Stocks and Subscriptions pour on ev'ry side,
371 Till all the Dæmon makes his full descent
372 In one abundant show'r of Cent. per Cent,
373 Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole,
374 Then dubs Director, and secures his soul.
375 Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
376 Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit;
377 What late he call'd a Blessing, now was Wit,
378 And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit.
379 Things change their titles, as our manners turn:
380 His Compting-house imploy'd the sunday-morn;
381 Seldom at Church, (twas such a busy life)
382 But duly sent his family and Wife.
[Page 45]
383 There (so the Dev'l ordain'd) one Christmas-tide
384 My good old Lady catch'd a cold, and dy'd.
385 A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight;
386 He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite:
387 Leaves the dull cits, and joins (to please the fair)
388 The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's Air:
389 First, for his Son a gay Commission buys,
390 Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies.
391 His Daughter flaunts a Viscount's tawdry wife,
392 She bears a Coronet and p---x for life.
393 In Britain's Senate he a seat obtains,
394 [Footnote: 1Kb] And one more Pensioner St. Stephen gains.
395 My Lady falls to Play: so bad her chance,
396 He must repair it; takes a bribe from France;
397 The House impeach him, Conningsby harangues,
398 The Court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs:
399 Wife, son, and daughter, Satan are thy own;
400 His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown;
401 The Devil and the King divide the prize,
402 And sad Sir Balaam curses God and dies.
[Page 46]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE IV.
TO Richard Earl of Burlington. [from The Works (1736)]
This Epistle is a Corollary to the preceding; As that
treated of the Extremes of Avarice and Profusion, this
takes up one branch of the latter, the Vanity of Expence
in people of Quality or Fortune.
1 'Tis strange, the Miser should his cares employ,
2 To gain those Riches he can ne'er enjoy.
3 Is it less strange, the Prodigal should waste
4 His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
5 Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats;
6 Artists must chuse his Pictures, Music, Meats:
7 [Footnote: 1Kb] He buys for Topham Drawings and designs,
8 For Fountain Statues, and for Pembroke Coins,
9 Rare monkish Manuscripts for Hearne alone,
10 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Books for Mead, and Rarities for Sloane.
[Page 47]
11 Think we all these are for himself? no more
12 Than his fine Wife, alas! or finer Whore.
13 For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
14 Only to show, how many Tastes he wanted.
15 [Footnote: 1Kb] What brought Sir Visto's ill-got wealth to waste?
16 Some Dæmon whisper'd, "Visto! have a Taste.
17 Heav'n visits with a Taste the wealthy fool,
18 And needs no rod but Ripley with a Rule.
19 See! sportive fate, to punish aukward pride,
20 Bids Bubo build, and sends him such a guide:
21 A standing sermon, at each year's expence,
22 That never Coxcomb reach'd Magnificence!
23 [Footnote: 1Kb] You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse,
24 And pompous buildings once were things of Use.
25 Yet shall (my Lord) your just, your noble rules
26 Fill half the land with Imitating Fools:
27 Who random drawings from your sheets shall take,
28 And of one beauty many blunders make;
29 Load some vain Church with old Theatric state,
30 Turn Arcs of triumph to a Garden-gate;
31 Reverse your ornaments and hang them all
32 On some patch'd dog-hole ek'd with ends of wall,
33 Then clap four slices of Pilaster on't,
34 That, lac'd with bits of rustic, makes a Front.
[Page 48]
35 Shall call the winds thro' long Arcades to roar,
36 [Footnote: 1Kb] Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
37 Conscious they act a true Palladian part,
38 And if they starve, they starve by rules of art.
39 [Footnote: 1Kb] Oft have you hinted to your brother Peer,
40 A certain truth, which many buy too dear:
41 Something there is, more needful than Expence,
42 And something previous ev'n to Taste---'Tis Sense:
43 Good Sense, which only is the gift of heav'n,
44 And tho' no science, fairly worth the seven:
45 A light, which in yourself you must perceive;
46 [Footnote: 1Kb] Jones and Le Nôtre have it not to give.
47 [Footnote: 1Kb] To build, to plant, to whatever you intend,
48 To rear the Column, or the Arch to bend,
49 To swell the Terras, or to sink the Grot;
50 In all let Nature, never be forgot.
51 But treat the Goddess like a modest fair,
52 Nor over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare;
53 Let not each beauty ev'ry where be spy'd,
54 Where half the skill is decently to hide.
[Page 49]
55 He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds,
56 Surprizes, varies, and conceals the Bounds.
57 [Footnote: 1Kb] Consult the Genius of the place in all;
58 That tells the Waters or to rise, or fall,
59 Or helps th'ambitious Hill the heav'ns to scale,
60 Or scoops in circling Theatres the Vale,
61 Calls in the Country, catches opening glades,
62 Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades,
63 Now breaks, or now directs, th'intending lines;
64 Paints as you plant, and as you work, designs.
65 Begin with Sense, of ev'ry Art the soul,
66 Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a Whole,
67 Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
68 Start ev'n from Difficulty, strike from Chance;
69 Nature shall join you, Time shall make it grow
70 [Footnote: 1Kb] A Work to wonder at---perhaps a Stow.
71 [Footnote: 1Kb] Without it, proud Versailles! thy glory falls,
72 And Nero's Terraces desert their walls:
73 The vast Parterres a thousand hands shall make,
74 Lo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a Lake:
[Page 50]
75 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or cut wide views thro' mountains to the plain,
76 You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat again.
77 Behold Villario's ten-years toil compleat,
78 His Arbours darken, his Espaliers meet,
79 The Wood supports the Plain, the parts unite,
80 And strength of shade contends with strength of light;
81 A waving glow the bloomy beds display,
82 Blushing in bright diversities of day,
83 With silver-quiv'ring rills mæander'd o'er---
84 Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more;
85 Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yield,
86 He finds at last he better likes a Field.
87 Thro' his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus stray'd,
88 Or sate delighted in the thick'ning shade,
89 With annual joy the red'ning shoots to greet,
90 Or see the stretching branches long to meet!
91 His Son's fine taste an op'ner vista loves,
92 Foe to the Dryads of his Father's groves,
[Page 51]
93 [Footnote: 1Kb] One boundless Green, or flourish'd Carpet views,
94 [Footnote: 1Kb] With all the mournful family of Yews;
95 The thriving plants ignoble broomsticks made,
96 Now sweep those alleys they were born to shade.
97 [Footnote: 1Kb] At Timon's Villa let us pass a day,
98 Where all cry out, "what sums are thrown away!
99 So proud, so grand, of that stupendous air,
100 [Footnote: 1Kb] Soft and Agreeable come never there.
[Page 52]
101 Greatness, with Timon, dwells in such a draught
102 As brings all Brobdignag before your thought.
103 To compass this, his building is a Town,
104 His pond an Ocean, his parterre a Down:
105 Who but must laugh, the Master when he sees;
106 A puny insect, shiv'ring at a breeze.
107 Lo! what huge heaps of littleness around!
108 The whole, a labour'd Quarry above ground.
109 [Footnote: 1Kb] Two Cupids squirt before: a Lake behind
110 Improves the keenness of the Northern wind.
111 His Gardens next your admiration call,
112 [Footnote: 1Kb] On ev'ry side you look, behold the Wall!
113 No pleasing intricacies intervene,
114 No artful wildness to perplex the scene;
115 [Footnote: 1Kb] Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
116 And half the platform just reflects the other.
117 [Footnote: 1Kb] The suff'ring eye inverted nature sees,
118 Trees cut to Statues, Statues thick as trees,
[Page 53]
119 [Footnote: 1Kb] With here a Fountain never to be play'd,
120 And there a Summer-house, that knows no shade.
121 Here Amphitrite sails thro' myrtle bow'rs;
122 [Footnote: 1Kb] There Gladiators fight, or die in flow'rs;
123 Un-water'd see the drooping sea-horse mourn,
124 And swallows rooft in Nilus' dusty urn.
125 My Lord advances with majestic mien,
126 Smit with the mighty pleasure, to be seen:
127 But soft---by regular approach---not yet---
128 [Footnote: 1Kb] First thro' the length of yon hot Terrace sweat,
129 And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighs,
130 Just at his Study-door he'll bless your eyes.
131 [Footnote: 1Kb] His Study? with what Authors is it stor'd?
132 In Books, not Authors, curious is my Lord;
[Page 54]
133 To all their dated Backs he turns you round,
134 These Aldus printed, those Du Suëil has bound.
135 Lo some are Vellom, and the rest as good
136 For all his Lordship knows, but they are Wood.
137 For Lock or Milton 'tis in vain to look,
138 These shelves admit not any modern book.
139 And now the Chappel's silver bell you hear,
140 [Footnote: 1Kb] That summons you to all the Pride of Pray'r:
141 Light quirks of Musick, broken and uneven,
142 Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven.
143 [Footnote: 1Kb] On painted Cielings you devoutly stare,
144 [Footnote: 1Kb] Where sprawl the faints of Verrio, or Laguerre,
145 On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie,
146 And bring all Paradise before your eye.
[Page 55]
147 [Footnote: 1Kb] To rest, the Cushion and soft Dean invite,
148 Who never mentions Hell to ears polite.
149 But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call;
150 A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall:
151 [Footnote: 1Kb] The rich Buffet well-colour'd Serpents grace,
152 And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face.
153 [Footnote: 1Kb] Is this a dinner? this a genial room?
154 No, 'tis a Temple, and a hecatomb;
155 A solemn sacrifice, perform'd in state,
156 You drink by measure, and to minutes eat.
157 So quick retires each flying course, you'd swear
158 [Footnote: 1Kb] Sancho's dread Doctor and his wand were there.
159 Between each act the trembling salvers ring,
160 From soup to sweetwine, and God bless the King.
[Page 56]
161 In plenty starving, tantaliz'd in state,
162 And complaisantly help'd to all I hate,
163 Treated, caress'd, and tir'd, I take my leave,
164 Sick of his civil Pride from morn to eve!
165 I curse such lavish cost, and little skill,
166 And swear no day was ever past so ill.
167 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yet hence the Poor are cloath'd, the Hungry fed;
168 Health to himself, and to his Infants bread
169 The Lab'rer bears: What his hard heart denies,
170 His charitable Vanity supplies.
171 Another age shall see the golden ear
172 Imbrown the slope, and nod on the Parterre.
173 Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd,
174 And laughing Ceres re-assume the land.
175 Who then shall grace, or who improve the Soil?
176 Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle.
177 'Tis Use alone that sanctifies Expence,
178 And Splendor borrows all her rays from Sense.
179 His Father's Acres who enjoys in peace,
180 Or makes his Neighbours glad, if he encrease;
181 Whose chearful Tenants bless their yearly toil,
182 Yet to their lord owe more than to the soil;
[Page 57]
183 Whose ample Lawns are not asham'd to feed
184 The milky heifer and deserving steed;
185 Whose rising Forests, not for pride or show,
186 But future buildings, future Navies grow;
187 Let His plantations stretch from down to down,
188 First shade a Country, and then raise a Town.
189 You too proceed! make falling Arts your care,
190 Erect new wonders, and the old repair,
191 Jones and Palladio to themselves restore,
192 And be whate'er Vitruvius was before:
193 [Footnote: 2Kb] Till Kings call forth th'Idea's of your mind,
194 Proud to accomplish what such hands design'd,
195 Bid Harbors open, public Ways extend,
196 Bid Temples, worthier of the God, ascend,
[Page 58]
197 Bid the broad Arch the dang'rous flood contain,
198 The Mole projected break the roaring Main;
199 Back to his bounds their subject Sea command,
200 And roll obedient Rivers thro' the Land:
201 These Honours, Peace to happy Britain brings,
202 These are Imperial Works, and worthy Kings.
[Page 59]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744:EPISTLES, THE Third Book. TO SEVERAL PERSONS. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 61]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE I.
TO ROBERT Earl of OXFORD AND Earl Mortimer. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Such were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet sung, [Footnote: 1Kb]
2 'Till death untimely stop'd his tuneful tongue.
3 Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd and mourn'd!
4 With softest manners, gentlest arts ardorn'd!
5 Blest in each science, blest in ev'ry strain!
6 Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear---in vain!
7 For him, thou oft has bid the world attend,
8 Fond to forget the statesman in the friend;
9 For Swift and him, despise the farce of state,
10 The sober follies of the wise and great;
[Page 62]
11 Dextrous, the craving, fawning croud to quit,
12 And pleas'd escape from Flattery to Wit.
13 Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear,
14 (A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear)
15 Recall those nights that clos'd thy toilsome days,
16 Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays,
17 Who careless now of Interest, fame, or fate,
18 Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great;
19 Or deeming meanest what we greatest call,
20 Behold thee glorious only in thy Fall.
21 And sure, if ought below the seats divine
22 Can touch Immortals, 'tis a soul like thine:
23 A soul supreme, in each hard instance try'd,
24 Above all pain, all Passion, and all Pride,
25 The rage of Pow'r, the blast of publick breath,
26 The lust of Lucre, and the dread of Death.
27 In vain to desarts thy retreat is made;
28 The Muse attends thee to the silent shade:
29 'Tis hers, the brave man's latest steps to trace,
30 Rejudge his acts and dignify disgrace.
31 When Int'rest calls off all her sneaking train,
32 And all th'oblig'd desert, and all the vain;
33 She waits, or to the scaffold, or the cell,
34 When the last ling'ring friend has bid farewel.
35 Ev'n now, she shades thy Ev'ning walk with bays,
36 (No hireling she, no prostitute to praise)
37 Ev'n now, observant of the parting ray,
38 Eyes the calm sun-set of thy various day,
39 Thro' Fortune's cloud one truly great can see,
40 Nor fears to tell, that Mortimer is he.
[Page 63]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE II.
TO James Craggs, Esq; Secretary of State. [from The Works (1736)]
1 A soul as full of Worth, as void of Pride,
2 Which nothing seeks to show, or needs to hide,
3 Which nor to guilt, nor fear, its Caution owes,
4 And boasts a Warmth that from no passion flows:
5 A Face untaught to feign! a judging eye,
6 That darts severe upon a rising lye,
7 And strikes a blush thro' frontless Flattery.
8 All this thou wert; and being this before,
9 Know, Kings and Fortune cannot make thee more.
10 Then scorn to gain a Friend by servile ways
11 Nor wish to lose a Foe these virtues raise;
12 But candid, free, sincere, as you began,
13 Proceed---a Minister, but still a Man;
14 Be not (exalted to whate'er degree)
15 Asham'd of any Friend, not ev'n of Me.
16 The Patriot's plain, but untrod path pursue;
17 If not, 'tis I must be asham'd of You.
[Page 64]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE III.
TO Mr. Addison. [from The Works (1736)]
1 See the wild waste of all devouring years! [Footnote: 1Kb]
2 How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
3 With nodding arches, broken temples spread,
4 The very tombs now vanish'd like their dead!
5 Imperial wonders, rais'd on Nations spoil'd,
6 Where mix'd with slaves the groaning Martyr toil'd:
7 Huge Theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
8 Now drain'd a distant country of her floods;
9 Fanes, which admiring Gods with pride survey;
10 Statues of men, scarce less alive than they;
11 Some felt the silent stroke of mould'ring age.
12 Some hostile fury, some religious rage;
[Page 65]
13 Barbarian blindness, Christian zeal conspire,
14 And Papal piety, and Gothic fire,
15 Perhaps, by its own ruins sav'd from flame,
16 Some bury'd marble half preserves a Name,
17 That name, the learn'd with fierce disputes pursue,
18 And give to Titus old Vespasian's due.
19 Ambition sigh'd: She found it vain to trust
20 The faithless column and the crumbling bust;
21 Huge Moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore,
22 Their ruins ruin'd, and their place no more!
23 Convinc'd, she now contracts her vast design,
24 And all her triumphs shrink into a Coin:
25 A narrow orb each crouded conquest keeps,
26 Beneath her palm here sad Judæa weeps.
27 Now scantier limits the proud Arch confine,
28 And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine,
29 A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd,
30 And little Eagles wave their wings in gold.
31 The Medal, faithful to its charge of fame,
32 Thro' climes and ages bears each form and name:
33 In one short view subjected to our eye
34 Gods, Emp'rors, Heroes, Sages, Beauties lie.
35 With sharpen'd sight pale Antiquaries pore,
36 Th'inscription value, but the rust adore;
37 This the blue varnish, that the green endears,
38 The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years!
39 To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes,
40 One grasps a Cecrops in ecstatic dreams;
41 Poor Vadius, long with learned spleen devour'd,
42 Can taste no pleasure since his Shield was scour'd;
[Page 66]
43 And Curio, restless by the fair one's side,
44 Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his Bride.
45 Theirs is the Vanity, the Learning thine:
46 Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine,
47 Her Gods, and god-like Heroes rise to view,
48 And all her faded garlands bloom a-new.
49 Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage;
50 These pleas'd the Fathers of poetic rage;
51 The verse and sculpture bore an equal part,
52 And Art reflected images to art.
53 Oh when shall Britain, conscious of her claim,
54 Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame,
55 In living Medals see her wars enroll'd,
56 And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold?
57 Here, rising bold, the Patriot's honest face;
58 There Warriers frowning in historic brass:
59 Then future ages with delight shall see
60 How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree;
61 Or in fair series laurell'd bards be shown,
62 A Virgil there, and here an Addison.
63 Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine)
64 On the cast Ore, another Pollio shine;
65 With aspect open, shall erect his head,
66 And round the orb in lasting notes be read,
67 "Statesman, yet friend to Truth! of soul sincere,
68 "In action faithful, and in honour clear;
69 "Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end,
70 "Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend,
71 "Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd,
72 "And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the Muse he lov'd,
[Page 67]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE IV.
TO Mr. Jervas, With Dryden's Translation of Fresnoy's Art of Painting. [from The Works (1736)]
1 This Verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse
2 This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse.
3 Whether thy hand strike out some free design,
4 Where life awakes, and dawns at ev'ry line;
5 Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass,
6 And from the canvas call the mimic face:
7 Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire
8 Fresnoy's close Art, and Dryden's native fire:
9 And reading wish, like theirs our fate and fame,
10 So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name?
11 Like them to shine thro' long succeeding age,
12 So just thy skill, so regular my rage.
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13 Smit with the love of sister-arts we came,
14 And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;
15 Like friendly colours found them both unite,
16 And each from each contract new strength and light.
17 How oft' in pleasing tasks we wear the day,
18 While summer-suns roll unperceiv'd away?
19 How oft' our slowly-growing works impart,
20 While images reflect from art to art?
21 How oft' review; each finding like a friend
22 Something to blame, and something to commend?
23 What flatt'ring scenes our wondr'ring fancy wrought,
24 Rome's pompous glories rising to our thought!
25 Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
26 Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy.
27 With thee, on Raphael's Monument I mourn,
28 Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's Urn:
29 With thee repose, where Tully once was laid,
30 Or seek some Ruin's formidable shade;
31 While fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view,
32 And builds imaginary Rome a-new.
33 Here thy well study'd marbles fix our eye;
34 A fading Fresco here demands a sigh:
35 Each heav'nly piece unweary'd we compare,
36 Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd Guido's air,
37 Carracci's strength, Corregio's softer line,
38 Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
39 How finish'd with illustrious toil appears
40 This small, well-polish'd gem, the [Footnote: 1Kb] work of years!
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41 Yet still how faint by precept is exprest
42 The living image in the painter's breast?
43 Thence endless streams of fair Ideas flow,
44 Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow;
45 Thence Beauty waking all her forms, supplies
46 An Angel's sweetness, or Bridgwater's eyes.
47 Muse! at that name thy sacred sorrows shed,
48 Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead:
49 Call round her tomb each object of defire,
50 Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire:
51 Bid her be all that chears or softens life,
52 The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife:
53 Bid her be all that makes mankind adore;
54 Then view this Marble, and be vain no more!
55 Yet still her charms in breathing paint engage;
56 Her modest cheek shall warm a future age.
57 Beauty, frail flow'r that every season sears,
58 Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.
59 Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprize,
60 And other Beauties envy Worsley's eyes;
61 Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow,
62 And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow.
63 Oh lasting as those colours may they shine,
64 Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line!
65 New graces yearly like thy works display,
66 Soft without weakness, without glaring gay;
67 Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains;
68 And finish'd more thro' happiness than pains!
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69 The kindred Arts shall in their praise conspire,
70 One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre.
71 Yet should the Graces all thy figures place,
72 And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face;
73 Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll,
74 Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul;
75 With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgwater vie,
76 And these be sung 'till Granville's Myra die:
77 Alas! how little from the grave we claim?
78 Thou but preserv'st a Face, and I a Name.
[Page 71]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE V.
TO Miss Blount, With the Works of VOITURE. Written at 17 years old. [from The Works (1736)]
1 In these gay thoughts the Loves and graces shine,
2 And all the Writer lives in ev'ry line;
3 His easy art may happy Nature seem,
4 Trifles themselves are elegant in him.
5 Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,
6 Who without flatt'ry pleas'd the fair and great;
7 Still with esteem no less convers'd than read;
8 With wit well-natur'd, and with books well-bred:
9 His heart, his mistress, and his friend did share
10 His time, the Muse, the witty, and the fair.
11 Thus wisely careless, innocently gay,
12 Chearful he play'd the trifle, life, away.
[Page 72]
13 'Till fate scarce felt his gentle breath supprest,
14 As smiling infants sport themselves to rest.
15 Ev'n rival Wits did Voiture's death deplore,
16 And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before;
17 The truest hearts for Voiture heav'd with sighs,
18 Voiture was wept by all the brightest eyes;
19 The Smiles and Loves had dy'd in Voiture's death,
20 But that for ever in his lines they breathe.
21 Let the strict life of graver mortals be
22 A long, exact, and serious Comedy,
23 In every scene some Moral let it teach,
24 And, if it can, at once both please and preach.
25 Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear,
26 And more diverting still than regular,
27 Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace,
28 Tho' not too strictly bound to Time and Place:
29 Critics in wit, or life, are hard to please,
30 Few write to those, and none can live to these.
31 Too much your Sex is by their forms confin'd,
32 Severe to all, but most to womankind;
33 Custom, grown blind with Age, must be your guide;
34 Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride;
35 By nature yielding, stubborn but for fame;
36 Made Slaves by honour, and made Fools by shame.
37 Marriage may all those petty tyrants chase,
38 But sets up one, a greater in their place;
39 Well might you wish for change, by those accurst,
40 But the last Tyrant ever proves the worst.
41 Still in constraint your suff'ring Sex remains,
42 Or bound in formal, or in real chains:
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43 Whole years neglected, for some months ador'd,
44 The fawning servant turns a haughty Lord.
45 Ah quit not the free innocence of life,
46 For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife;
47 Nor let false shews, or empty Titles please:
48 Aim not at joy, but rest content with ease.
49 The Gods, to curse Pamela with her pray'rs,
50 Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders Mares,
51 The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state,
52 And, to compleat her bliss, a Fool for mate.
53 She glares in Balls, front boxes, and the Ring,
54 A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched Thing!
55 Pride, pomp, and state but reach her outward part,
56 She sighs, and is no Duchess at her heart.
57 But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you
58 Are destin'd Hymen's willing victim too;
59 Trust not too much your now resistles charms,
60 Those, Age or Sickness, soon or late, disarms;
61 Good humour only teaches charms to last,
62 Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past;
63 Love, rais'd on Beauty, will like that decay,
64 Our Hearts may bear its slender chain a day;
65 As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn,
66 A morning's pleasure, and at ev'ning torn:
67 This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong,
68 The willing heart, and only holds it long.
69 Thus [Footnote: 1Kb] Voiture's early care still shone the same,
70 And Montausier was only chang'd in name:
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71 By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm,
72 Their Wit still sparkling, and their Flame still warm.
73 Now crown'd with myrtle, on th'Elysian coast,
74 Amid those Lovers, joys his gentle Ghost:
75 Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view,
76 And finds a fairer Ramboüillet in you.
77 The brightest eyes of France inspir'd his muse;
78 The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse;
79 And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride
80 Still to charm those who charm the world beside.
[Page 75]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE VI.
To the same on her leaving the Town, after the Coronation. [from The Works (1736)]
1 As some fond Virgin, whom her mother's care
2 Draggs from the town to wholesome country air,
3 Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
4 And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
5 From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
6 Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
7 Thus from the world fair Zephalinda slew,
8 Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
9 Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,
10 She sigh'd not that they stay'd, but that she went.
11 She went, to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
12 Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
13 She went from Op'ra, park, assembly, play,
14 To morning walks, and pray'r three hours a day:
15 To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
16 To muse, and spill her solitary tea,
17 Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
18 Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon:
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19 Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
20 Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire;
21 Up to her godly garret after sev'n,
22 There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
23 Some Squires, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
24 Whose game is whisk, whose treat a toast in sack;
25 Who visits with a Gun, presents you birds,
26 Then gives a smacking buss, and cries,---No words!
27 Or with his hound comes hallowing from the stable,
28 Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
29 Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse,
30 And loves you best of all things---but his horse.
31 In some fair ev'ning, on your elbow laid,
32 You dream of Triumphs in the rural shade;
33 In pensive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
34 See Coronations rise on ev'ry green:
35 Before you pass th'imaginary sights
36 Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights:
37 While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes;
38 Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
39 Thus vanish scepters, coronets, and balls,
40 And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!
41 So when your slave, at some, dear idle time,
42 (Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of ryme)
43 Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
44 And while he seems to study, thinks of you:
45 Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,
46 Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,
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47 Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite;
48 Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, rush upon my fight:
49 Vext to be still in town, I knit my brow,
50 Look sour, and hum a song---as you may now.
[Page 78]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: EPISTLE VII.
TO Dr. Arbuthnot. [from The Works (1736)]
[Footnote: 1Kb]
1 Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd I said,
2 Tye up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.
3 The Dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt,
4 All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out:
5 Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
6 They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
7 What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide?
8 They pierce my thickets, thro' my Grot they glide,
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9 By land, by water, they renew the charge,
10 They stop the chariot, and they board the barge.
11 No place is sacred, not the Church is free,
12 Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me:
13 Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
14 Happy! to catch me, just at dinner-time.
15 Is there a parson, much be-mus'd in beer,
16 A maudling poetess, a ryming peer,
17 A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross,
18 Who pens a stanza when he should engross?
19 Is there, who lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls
20 With desp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls?
21 All fly to Twit'nam and in humble strain
22 Apply to me, to keep them mad, or vain.
23 Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws,
24 Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause:
25 Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope,
26 And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope.
27 Friend to my Life! (which did not you prolong,
28 The world had wanted many an idle song)
29 What Drop or Nostrum can this plague remove?
30 Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love?
31 A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped,
32 If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
33 Seiz'd and ty'd down to judge, how wretched I,
34 Who can't be silent, and who will not lye;
35 To laugh, were want of goodness-and-of-grace,
36 And to be grave, exceeds all pow'r of face.
[Page 80]
37 I sit with sad civility, I read
38 With honest anguish, and an aching head;
39 And drop at last, but in unwilling ears,
40 This saving council, "Keep your piece nine years."
41 Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane
42 Lull'd by soft Zephyrs thro' the broken pane,
43 Rymes 'ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,
44 Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends:
45 "The piece you think is incorrect? why take it,
46 "I'm all submission, what you'd have it, make it."
47 Three things another's modest wishes bound,
48 My friendship, and a Prologue, and ten pound.
49 [Footnote: 1Kb] Pitholeon sends to me: "You know his Grace,
50 "I want a patron; ask him for a place."
51 Pitholeon libell'd me---"but here's a letter
52 "Informs you, sir, 'twas when he knew no better.
53 "Dare you refuse him? Curl invites to dine!
54 "He'll write a Journal, or he'll turn Divine."
55 Bless me! a packet.---"'Tis a stranger sues,
56 "A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Muse."
57 If I dislike it, "Furies, death and rage!
58 If I approve, "commend it to the Stage."
59 There (thank my stars) my whole commission ends,
60 The Players and I are, luckily, no friends.
61 Fir'd that the house reject him, "'Sdeath I'll print it
62 "And shame the fools---your int'rest, sir, with Lintot."
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63 Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much.
64 "Not sir, if you revise it, and retouch."
65 All my demurs but double his attacks,
66 At last he whispers, "do, and we go snacks.
67 Glad of a quarrel, strait I clap the door,
68 Sir, let me see your works and you no more.
69 'Tis sung, when Midas' Ears began to spring,
70 (Midas, a sacred person and a King)
71 His very Minister who spy'd them first,
72 (Some say his [Footnote: 1Kb] Queens) was forc'd to speak, or burst.
73 And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case,
74 When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face,
75 "Good friend forbear! you deal in dang'rous things,
76 "I'd never name Queens, ministers or kings;
77 "Keep close to ears, and those let asses prick,
78 "'Tis nothing"---Nothing if they bite and kick?
79 Out with it, Dunciad! let the secret pass,
80 That secret to each fool, that he's an ass:
81 The truth once told, (and wherefore should we lie?)
82 The Queen of Midas slept, and so may I.
83 You think this cruel? take it for a rule,
84 No creature smarts so little as a fool.
85 Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break,
86 Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty crak:
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87 Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulsions hurl'd,
88 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thou stand'st unshook amidst a bursting world.
89 Who shames a Scribler? break one cobweb thro',
90 He spins the slight, self-pleasing thread anew:
91 Destroy his fib, or sophistry, in vain,
92 The creature's at his dirty work again;
93 Thron'd in the centre of his thin designs,
94 Proud of a vast extent of flimzy lines!
95 Whom have I hurt? has Poet yet, or Peer,
96 Lost the arch'd eye-brow, or Parnassian sneer?
97 And has not Colly still his lord, and whore?
98 His butchers Henley, his free-masons Moore?
99 Does not one table Arnall still admit?
100 Still to one Bishop Phillips seem a wit?
101 Still Sappho---"Hold! for God-sake---you'll offend,
102 "No names---be calm---learn prudence of a friend:
103 "I too could write, and I am twice as tall,
104 "But foes like these!---One Flatt'rers worse than all;
105 Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right,
106 It is the slaver kills, and not the bite.
107 A fool quite angry is quite innocent;
108 Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repent.
109 One dedicates in high heroic prose,
110 And ridicules beyond a hundred foes;
111 One from all Grub-street will my fame defend,
112 And, more abusive, calls himself my friend.
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113 This prints my Letters, or expects a bribe,
114 And others roar aloud, "Subscribe, subscribe."
115 There are, who to my person pay their court,
116 I cough like Horace, and tho' lean, am short,
117 Ammon's great son one shoulder had too high,
118 Such Ovid's nose, and Sir! you have an Eye---
119 Go on, obliging creatures, make me see
120 All that disgrac'd my betters, met in me.
121 Say for my comfort, languishing in bed,
122 "Just so immortal Maro held his head:
123 And when I die, be sure you let me know,
124 Great Homer dy'd three thousand years ago.
125 Why did I write? what sin to me unknown
126 Dipt me in Ink, my parents, or my own?
127 As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
128 I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
129 I left no calling for this idle trade.
130 No duty broke, no father disobey'd.
131 The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not Wife,
132 To help me thro' this long disease, my life,
133 To second, Arbuthnot! thy Art and care,
134 And teach, the Being you preserv'd, to bear.
135 But why then publish? Granville the polite,
136 And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write,
137 Well-natur'd Garth inflam'd with early praise,
138 And Congreve lov'd, and Swift endur'd my lays;
139 The courtly Talbot, [Footnote: 1Kb] Somers, Sheffield read,
140 Ev'n mitred Rochester would nod the head,
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141 And St. John's self (great Dryden's friend before)
142 With open arms receiv'd one Poet more.
143 Happy my studies, when by these approv'd!
144 Happier their author, when by these belov'd!
145 From these the world will judge of men and books,
146 Not from the [Footnote: 1Kb] Burnets, Oldmixons, and Cooks.
147 Soft were my numbers, who could take offence
148 While pure Description held the place of sense;
149 Like gentle Fanny's was my flow'ry theme,
150 A painted mistress, or a purling stream.
151 Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;
152 I wish'd the man a dinner, and fate still:
153 Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret;
154 I never answer'd, I was not in debt:
155 If want provok'd, or madness made them print,
156 I wag'd no war with Bedlam or the Mint.
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157 Did some more sober Critics come abroad?
158 If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.
159 Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence,
160 And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.
161 Comma's and points they set exactly right.
162 And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite.
163 Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel grac'd these ribalds,
164 From slashing Bentley down to pidling Tibalds.
165 Each wight who reads not, only scans and spells,
166 Each word-catcher who lives on syllables,
167 Ev'n such small critics some regard may claim,
168 Preserv'd in Milton's or in Shakespear's name.
169 Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
170 Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!
171 The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
172 But wonder how the devil they got there?
173 Were others angry? I excus'd them too;
174 Well might they rage, I gave them but their due.
175 A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find,
176 But each man's secret standard in his mind,
177 That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness,
178 This, who can gratify? For who can guess?
179 The Bard whom pilf'red Pastorels renown,
180 Who turns a Persian tale for half a crown,
181 Just writes to make his barrenness appear,
182 And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year:
183 He, who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft,
184 Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left:
185 And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
186 Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
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187 And he, whose sustian's so sublimely bad,
188 It is not poetry, but prose run mad:
189 All these, my modest satire bad translate,
190 And own'd, that nine such poets made a Tate.
191 How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe?
192 And swear, not Addison himself was safe.
193 Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires
194 True Genius kindles, and fair Fame inspires,
195 Blest with each talent, and each art to please,
196 And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
197 Shou'd such a man, too fond to rule alone,
198 Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,
199 View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,
200 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise;
201 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
202 And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
203 Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
204 Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
205 Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend,
206 A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend;
207 Dreading ev'n fools, by Flatterers besieg'd,
208 And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd;
209 Like Cato, give his little Senate laws,
210 And sit attentive to his own applause;
211 While Wits and Templers ev'ry sentence raise,
212 And wonder with a foolish face of praise:
213 Who but must laugh if such a man there be?
214 Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
215 What tho' my Name stood rubric on the walls?
216 Or plaster'd posts, with claps in capitals?
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217 Or smoaking forth, a hundred hawkers load,
218 On wings of winds came flying all abroad,
219 I sought no homage from the race that write;
220 I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight;
221 Poems I heeded (now be rym'd so long)
222 No more than thou, great George! a birth-day song.
223 I ne'er with wits nor witlings past my days,
224 To spread about the itch of verse and praise;
225 Nor like a puppy, daggled through the town,
226 To fetch and carry sing-song up and down;
227 Nor at Rehearsals sweat, and mouth'd, and cry'd,
228 With handkerchief and orange at my side;
229 But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate,
230 To Bufo left the whole Castalian state.
231 Proud, as Apollo on his forked hill,
232 Sate full blown Bufo puff'd by ev'ry quill;
233 Fed with soft Dedication all day long,
234 Horace and he went hand in hand in song.
235 His Library, (where busts of poets dead
236 [Footnote: 1Kb] And a true Pindar stood without a head)
237 Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race,
238 Who first his judgment ask'd, and then a place:
239 Much they extoll'd his pictures, much his seat,
240 And flatter'd ev'ry day, and some days eat:
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241 Till grown more frugal in his riper days,
242 He pay'd some bards with port, and some with praise,
243 To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd,
244 And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
245 Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh,
246 Dryden alone escap'd this judging eye.
247 But still the great have kindness in reserve,
248 [Footnote: 1Kb] He help'd to bury him he help'd to starve.
249 May some choice Patron bless each gray goose quill!
250 May ev'ry Bavius have his Bufo still!
251 So, when a Statesman wants a day's defence,
252 Or Envy holds a whole week's war with sense,
253 Or simple pride for flatt'ry makes demands,
254 May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands!
255 Blest be the Great, for those they take away,
256 And those they left me---For they left me Gay;
257 Left me to see neglected genius bloom,
258 Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb:
259 Of all thy blameless life the sole return,
260 My Verse, and Queensb'ry weeping o'er thy urn!
261 Oh, let me live my own, and die so too!
262 ("To live and die is all I have to do)
263 Maintain a Poet's dignity and ease,
264 And see what friends, and read what books I please:
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265 Above a Patron, tho' I condescend
266 Sometimes to call a Minister my friend.
267 I was not born for courts or great affairs:
268 I pay my debts, believe, and say my pray'rs;
269 Can sleep without a poem in my head,
270 Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead.
271 Why am I ask'd, what next shall see the light?
272 Heav'ns! was I born for nothing but to write?
273 Has life no joys for me? or, to be grave,
274 Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save?
275 "I found him close with Swift---Indeed? no doubt
276 "(Cries prating Balbus) something will come out.
277 'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will.
278 "No, such a Genius never can lie still."
279 And then for mine obligingly mistakes
280 The first lampoon Sir Will. or Bubo makes,
281 Poor guiltless I! and can I chuse but smile,
282 When ev'ry coxcomb knows me by my Style?
283 Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,
284 That tends to make one worthy man my foe,
285 Give Virtue scandal, Innocence a fear,
286 Or from the soft-ey'd virgin steal a tear!
287 But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace,
288 Insults fall'n worth, or beauty in distress,
289 Who loves a lye, lame slander helps about,
290 Who writes a libel, or who copies out:
291 That fop, whose pride affects a patron's name,
292 Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame;
293 Who can your merit selfishly approve,
294 And show the sense of it without the love;
[Page 90]
295 Who has the vanity to call you friend,
296 Yet wants the honour injur'd to defend:
297 Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say,
298 And, if he lye not, must at least betray:
299 [Footnote: 1Kb] Who to the Dean and silver bell can swear,
300 And sees at Cannon's what was never there;
301 Who reads, but with a lust to misapply,
302 Make Satire a lampoon, and Fiction lye.
303 A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
304 But all such babling blockheads in his stead.
305 Let Sporus tremble---"What? that thing of silk,
306 "Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's milk?
307 "Satire or sense alas! can Sporus feel?
308 "Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?"
309 Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
310 This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings,
311 Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
312 Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys:
313 So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
314 In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
315 Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
316 As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
317 Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
318 And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
319 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,
320 Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
[Page 91]
321 In puns, or politicks, or tales, or lyes,
322 Or spite, or smut, or rymes, or blasphemies.
323 His wit all see-saw between that and this,
324 Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,
325 And he himself one vile Antithesis.
326 Amphibious thing! that acting either part,
327 The trifling head, or the corrupted heart,
328 Fop at the toilet, flat'trer at the board,
329 Now trips a Lady, and now struts a Lord.
330 Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
331 A Cherub's face, a reptile all the rest,
332 Beauty that shocks you, parts that none can trust,
333 Wit that can creep, and Pride that licks the dust.
334 Not Fortune's worshipper, nor Fashion's fool,
335 Nor Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool,
336 Not proud, nor servile; be one Poet's praise,
337 That, if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly ways;
338 That Flatt'ry, ev'n to Kings, he held a shame,
339 And thought a Lye in verse or prose the same:
340 That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long,
341 But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song:
342 That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end,
343 He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,
344 The damning critic, half approving wit,
345 The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
346 Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had,
347 The dull, the proud, the wicked, or the mad;
348 The distant threats of vengeance on his head,
349 The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed?
[Page 92]
350 The tale reviv'd, the lye so oft o'erthrown,
351 [Footnote: 1Kb] Th'imputed trash, and dulness not his own,
352 The morals blacken'd when the writings scape,
353 The libel'd person, and the pictur'd shape;
354 [Footnote: 1Kb] Abuse, on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread,
355 A friend in exile, or a father, dead;
356 The Whisper, that to greatness still too near,
357 Perhaps, yet vibrates on his Sovereign's ear---
358 Welcome for thee, fair Virtue! all the past:
359 For thee, fair Virtue! welcome even the last!
360 "But why insult the poor, affront the great?"
361 A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry state:
362 Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail,
363 Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jayl,
364 A hireling scribler, or a hireling peer,
365 Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire,
366 If on a Pillory, or near a Throne,
367 He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own.
368 Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit,
369 Sapho can tell you how this man was bit:
[Page 93]
370 This dreaded Sat'rist Dennis will confess
371 Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress:
372 So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door,
373 Has drunk with Cibber, nay has rhym'd for Moor:
374 [Footnote: 1Kb] Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply?
375 [Footnote: 2Kb] Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lye:
376 To please a mistress one aspers'd his life,
377 He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife:
378 Let Budgel charge low Grubstreet on his quill,
379 Ann write whate'er he pleas'd except his will;
[Page 94]
380 Let the two Curls of Town and Court, abuse
381 [Footnote: 2Kb] His father, mother, body, soul, and muse.
382 Yet why? that Father held it for a rule
383 It was a sin to call our neighbour fool,
[Page 95]
384 That harmless Mother thought no wife a whore;
385 Hear this, and spare his family, James More!
386 Unspotted names, and memorable long,
387 If there be force in Virtue, or in Song.
388 Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause,
389 While yet in Britain Honour had applause)
390 Each parent sprang---"What fortune, pray?---their own,
391 And better got than Bestia's from the Throne.
392 Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife,
393 Nor marrying discord in a noble wife,
394 Stranger to civil and religious rage,
395 The good man walk'd inoxious thro' his age:
396 No Courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
397 Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a lye:
398 Un-learn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtile art,
399 No language, but the language of the heart:
400 By nature honest, by experience wise,
401 Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise,
[Page 96]
402 His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown,
403 His death was instant, and without a groan.
404 O grant me thus to live, and thus to die!
405 Who sprung from Kings shall know less joy than I.
406 O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
407 Be no unpleasing Melancholy mine:
408 Me, let the tender office long engage
409 To rock the cradle of reposing Age,
410 With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath,
411 Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death,
412 Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
413 And keep a while one parent from the sky!
414 On cares like these if length of days attend,
415 May heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
416 Preserve him social, chearful, and serene,
417 And just as rich as when he serv'd a Queen.
418 Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n,
419 Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.
[Page 97]
SATIRES OF HORACE IMITATED,
With Satires of Dr. DONNE, VERSIFY'D
[Page 108]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The Occasion of publishing these Imitations was the
Clamour raised on some of my Epistles. An Answer
from Horace was both more full, and of more Dignity,
than any I could have made in my own person; and
the Example of so much greater Freedom in so eminent a
Divine as Dr. Donne, seem'd a proof with what indignation
and contempt a Christian may treat Vice or
Folly, in ever so low, or ever so high, a Station. Both
these Authors were acceptable to the Princes and Ministers
under whom they lived. The Satires of Dr. Donne I
versifyed at the desire of the Earl of Oxford while he was
Lord Treasurer, and of the Duke of Shrewsbury who had
been Secretary of State; neither of them look'd upon a
Satire on Vicious Courts as any Reflection on those they
serv'd in. And indeed there is not in the world a greater
error, than that which Fools are so apt to fall into, and
Knaves with good reason to incourage, the mistaking a
Satyrist for a Libeller; whereas to a true Satyrist
nothing is so odious as a Libeller, for the same reason as to
a man truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a Hypocrite.
[Page 109]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: SATIRE I. [from The Works (1736)]
P.
1 There are (I scarce can think it, but am told)
2 There are to whom my Satire seems too bold:
3 Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
4 And something said of Chartres much too rough.
5 The lines are weak, another's pleas'd to say,
6 Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.
7 Tim'rous by nature, of the Rich in awe,
8 I come to Council learned in the Law.
9 You'll give me, like a friend both sage and free,
10 Advice; and (as you use) without a Fee.
F.
11 I'd write no more.
P.
12 Not write? but then I think,
13 And for my soul I cannot sleep a wink.
[Page 110]
14 I nod in company, I wake at night,
15 Fools rush into my head, and so I write.
F.
16 You could not do a worse thing for your life.
17 Why, if the nights seem tedious---take a wife:
18 Or rather truly, if your point be rest,
19 Lettuce and cowslip wine: Probatum est.
20 But talk with Celsus, Celsus will advise
21 Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes.
22 Or, if you needs must write, write Caesar's praise:
23 You'll gain at least a Knighthood, or the Bays.
P.
24 What? like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and fierce,
25 With Arms, and George, and Brunswick, crowd the verse,
26 Rend with tremendous sound your ears asunder,
27 With Gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, and thunder?
28 Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force,
29 Paint Angels trembling round his falling Horse?
[Page 111]
F.
30 Then all your Muse's softer art display,
31 Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay,
32 Lull with Amelia's liquid name the nine,
33 And sweetly flow through all the Royal Line.
P.
34 Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear;
35 They scarce can bear their Laureate twice a year:
36 And justly Caesar scorns the Poet's lays,
37 It is to History he trusts for Praise.
F.
38 Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still,
39 Than ridicule all Taste, blaspheme Quadrille,
40 Abuse the City's best good men in metre,
41 And laugh at Peers that put their trust in Peter.
42 Ev'n those you touch not, hate you.
P.
43 What should ail 'em?
F.
44 A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaam:
45 The fewer still you name, you wound the more;
46 Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score.
[Page 112]
P.
47 Each mortal has his pleasure: none deny
48 Sc-le his bottle, D-ty his Ham-pye;
49 Ridotta sips and dances, till she see
50 The doubling Lustres dance as fast as she;
51 F--- loves the Senate, Hockley-hole his brother,
52 Like in all else, as one egg to another.
53 I love to pour out all my self, as plain
54 As downright Shippen, or as old Montagne.
55 In them, as certain to be lov'd as seen,
56 The Soul stood forth, not kept a thought within;
57 In me, what spots (for spots I have) appear,
58 Will prove at least the Medium must be clear.
59 In this impartial glass, my Muse intends
60 Fair to expose my self, my foes, my friends;
61 Publish the present age; but where my text
62 Is vice too high, reserve it for the next:
63 My foes shall wish my life a longer date,
64 And ev'ry friend the less lament my fate.
[Page 113]
65 My head and heart thus flowing thro' my quill,
66 Verse-man or Prose-man, term me which you will,
67 Papist or Protestant, or both between,
68 Like good Erasmus in an honest mean,
69 In moderation placing all my glory,
70 While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.
71 Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
72 To run a muck, and tilt at all I meet;
73 I only wear it in a land of Hectors,
74 Thieves, Supercargoes, Sharpers, and Directors,
75 Save but our Army! and let Jove incrust
76 Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting rust!
77 Peace is my dear delight---not Fleury's more:
78 But touch me, and no Minister so sore.
79 Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
80 Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
[Page 114]
81 Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
82 And the sad burthen of some merry song.
83 Slander or poyson dread from Delia's rage,
84 Hard words or hanging, if your Judge be
85 From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate,
86 P-x'd by her love, or libell'd by her hate.
87 Its proper pow'r to hurt, each creature feels,
88 Bulls aim their horns, and asses lift their heels,
89 'Tis a bear's talent not to kick but hug,
90 And no man wonders he's not stung by Pug:
91 So drink with Waters, or with Chartres eat,
92 They'll never poyson you, they'll only cheat.
93 Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter short)
94 Whate'er my fate, or well or ill at Court,
95 Whether old age with faint, but chearful ray,
96 Attends to gild the Evening of my day,
97 Or death's black wing already be display'd
98 To wrap me in the universal shade;
[Page 115]
99 Whether the darken'd room to muse invite,
100 Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write;
101 In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint,
102 Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme, and print.
F.
103 Alas young man! your days can ne'er be long,
104 In flow'r of age you perish for a song!
105 Plums and Directors, Shylock and his Wife,
106 Will club their testers, now, to take your life!
P.
107 What? arm'd for Virtue when I point the pen,
108 Brand the bold front of shameless, guilty men,
109 Dash the proud Gamester in his gilded car,
110 Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a Star;
111 Can there be wanting, to defend Her cause,
112 Lights of the Church, or Guardians of the Laws?
113 Could pension'd Boileau lash in honest strain
114 Flatt'rers and bigots ev'n in Louis' reign?
115 Could Laureate Dryden Pimp and Fry'r engage,
116 Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage?
117 And I not strip the gilding off a Knave,
118 Unplac'd, unpension'd, no man's heir, or slave?
[Page 116]
119 I will, or perish in the gen'rous cause:
120 Hear this and tremble! you who 'scape the laws.
121 Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave
122 Shall walk in peace, and credit, to his grave.
123 To Virtue only and her friends a friend,
124 The World beside may murmur, or commend.
125 Know, all the distant din that world can keep
126 Rolls o'er my Grotto, and but sooths my sleep.
127 There, my retreat the best companions grace,
128 Chiefs out of war, and Statesmen out of place.
129 There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl,
130 The Feast of Reason and the Flow of soul:
131 And [Footnote: 1Kb] He, whose lightning pierc'd th'Iberian lines,
132 Now forms my Quincunx, and now ranks my Vines,
133 Or tames the Genius of the stubborn plain,
134 Almost as quickly, as he conquer'd Spain.
[Page 117]
135 Envy must own, I live among the Great,
136 No Pimp of pleasure, and no Spy of state,
137 With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats,
138 Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats,
139 To help who want, to forward who excel;
140 This, all who know me, know; who love me, tell;
141 And who unknown defame me, let them be
142 Scriblers or Peers, alike are Mob to me.
143 This is my plea, on this I rest my cause---
144 What saith my Council learned in the laws?
F.
145 Your Plea is good; but still, I say, beware!
146 Laws are explain'd by Men---so have a care.
147 It stands on record, that in Richard's times
148 A man was hang'd for very honest rhymes.
149 Consult the Statute: quart. I think it is,
150 Edwardi sext. or prim. & quint. Eliz.
[Page 118]
151 See Libels, Satires---here you have it---read.
P.
152 Libels and Satires! lawless things indeed!
153 But grave Epistles, bringing vice to light,
154 Such as a King might read, a Bishop write,
155 Such as Sir Robert would approve---
F.
156 Indeed?
157 The Case is alter'd---you may then proceed;
158 In such a cause the Plaintiff will be hiss'd,
159 My Lords the Judges laugh, and you're dismiss'd.
[Page 119]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: SATIRE II. [from The Works (1736)]
1 What, and how great, the Virtue and the Art
2 To live on little with a chearful heart,
3 (A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine)
4 Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine:
5 Not when a gilt Buffet's reflected pride
6 Turns you from sound Philosophy aside:
7 Not when from plate to plate your eyeballs roll,
8 And the brain dances to the mantling bowl.
9 Hear Bethel's Sermon, one not vers'd in schools,
10 But strong in sense, and wise without the rules.
11 Go work, hunt, exercise! (he thus began)
12 Then scorn a homely dinner if you can.
[Page 120]
13 Your wine lock'd up, your Butler stroll'd abroad,
14 Or kept from fish, (the river yet unthaw'd)
15 If then plain bread and milk will do the feat,
16 The pleasure lies in you, and not the meat.
17 Preach as I please, I doubt our curious men
18 Will chuse a pheasant still before a hen;
19 Yet hens of Guinea full as good I hold,
20 Except you eat the feathers green and gold.
21 Of Carps and Mullets why prefer the great,
22 (Tho' cut in pieces 'ere my Lord can eat)
23 Yet for small Turbots such esteem profess?
24 Because God made these large, the other less.
[Page 121]
25 Oldfield, with more than Harpy throat endu'd,
26 Cries, "Send me, Gods! a whole Hog [Footnote: 1Kb] barbecu'd!
27 Oh blast it, south-winds! till a stench exhale
28 Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail.
29 By what Criterion do ye eat, d'ye think,
30 If this is priz'd for sweetness, that for stink?
31 When the tir'd glutton labours thro' a treat,
32 He'll find no relish in the sweetest meat,
33 He calls for something bitter, something sour,
34 And the rich feast concludes extremely poor:
35 Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives, still we see,
36 Thus much is left of old Simplicity!
37 The Robin-red-breast till of late had rest,
38 And children sacred held a Martin's nest,
39 Till Becca-ficos sold so dev'lish dear,
40 To one that was, and would have been, a Peer.
[Page 122]
41 Let me extoll a Cat, on oysters fed,
42 I'll have a party at the Bedford-Head,
43 Or ev'n to crack live crawfish recommend,
44 I'd never doubt at Court to make a friend.
45 'Tis yet in vain, I own, to keep a pother
46 About one vice, and fall into the other:
47 Between excess and famine lies a mean,
48 Plain, but not sordid; tho' not splendid, clean.
49 Avidien, or his Wife (no matter which,
50 For him you'll call a dog, and her a bitch)
51 Sell their presented partridges, and fruits,
52 And humbly live on rabbits and on roots:
53 One half-point bottle serves them both to dine,
54 And is at once their vinegar and wine.
55 But on some lucky day (as when they found
56 A lost bank-bill, or heard their Son was drown'd)
[Page 123]
57 At such a feast, old vinegar to spare,
58 Is what two souls so gen'rous cannot bear;
59 Oyl, tho' it stink, they drop by drop impart,
60 But sowse the cabbage with a bounteous heart.
61 He knows to live, who keeps the middle state,
62 And neither leans on this side, nor on that:
63 Nor stops, for one bad cork, his butler's pay,
64 Swears, like Albutius, a good Cook away;
65 Nor lets, like Nævius, ev'ry error pass,
66 The musty wine, foul cloth, or greasy glass.
67 Now hear what blessings Temperance can bring:
68 (Thus said our friend, and what he said I sing)
69 First Health: The stomach (cramm'd from ev'ry dish,
70 A tomb of boil'd, and roast, and flesh, and fish,
71 Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and acid jar,
72 And all the man is one intestine war)
[Page 124]
73 Remembers oft the school-boys simple fare,
74 The temp'rate sleeps, and spirits light as air.
75 How pale, each worshipful and rev'rend guest
76 Rise from a clergy, or a city feast!
77 What life in all that ample body, say,
78 What heav'nly particle inspires the clay?
79 The soul subsides, and wickedly inclines
80 To seem but mortal, ev'n in sound divines.
81 On morning wings how active springs the mind
82 That leaves the load of yesterday behind?
83 How easy ev'ry labour it pursues?
84 How coming to the Poet ev'ry Muse?
85 Not but we may exceed, some holy time,
86 Or tir'd in search of Truth, or search of rhyme;
[Page 125]
87 Ill health some just indulgence may engage,
88 And more, the sickness of long life, old age;
89 For fainting age what cordial drop remains,
90 If our intemp'rate youth the vessel drains?
91 Our fathers prais'd rank Ven'son. You suppose
92 Perhaps, young men! our fathers had no nose?
93 Not so: a Buck was then a week's repast,
94 And 'twas their point, I ween, to make it last:
95 More pleas'd to keep it till their friends could come,
96 Than eat the sweetest by themselves at home.
97 Why had not I in those good times my birth,
98 Ere coxcomb pyes or coxcombs were on earth?
99 Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear,
100 That sweetest musick to an honest ear;
101 For faith Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong,
102 The world's good word is better than a song)
[Page 126]
103 Who has not learn'd, fresh sturgeon and ham-pye
104 Are no rewards for want, and infamy!
105 When luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf,
106 Curs'd by thy neighbours, thy trustees, thyself,
107 To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame,
108 Think how posterity will treat thy name;
109 And buy a rope, that future times may tell
110 Thou hast at least bestow'd one penny well.
111 "Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need
112 "To have a Taste, is insolence indeed:
113 "In me 'tis noble, suits my birth and state,
114 "My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great.
115 Then, like the Sun, let Bounty spread her ray,
116 And shine that superfluity away.
117 Oh impudence of wealth! with all thy store,
118 How dar'st thou let one worthy man be poor?
119 Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?
120 Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair White-hall:
[Page 127]
121 Or to thy country let that heap be lent,
122 As M--o's was, but not a five per cent.
123 Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind,
124 Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind!
125 And who stands safest, tell me? is it he
126 That spreads and swells in puff'd prosperity,
127 Or blest with little, whose preventing care
128 In peace provides fit arms against a war?
129 Thus Bethel spoke, who always speaks his thought,
130 And always thinks the very thing he ought.
131 His equal mind I copy what I can,
132 And as I love, would imitate the man.
133 In South-sea days not happier, when surmis'd
134 The Lord of thousands, than if now Excis'd;
135 In forests planted by a Father's hand,
136 Than in five acres now of rented land.
137 Content with little, I can piddle here
138 On brocoli and mutton, round the year;
[Page 128]
139 But ancient friends (tho' poor, or out of play)
140 That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.
141 'Tis true, no Turbots dignify my boards,
142 But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords:
143 To Hounslow-heath I point, and Bansted-down,
144 Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my own:
145 From yon old walnut-tree, a show'r shall fall?
146 And grapes, long-lingring on my only wall,
147 And figs, from standard and espalier join:
148 The dev'l is in you if you cannot dine.
149 Then chearful healths (your Mistress shall have place)
150 And, what's more rare, a Poet shall say Grace.
151 Fortune not much of humbling me can boast;
152 Tho' double tax'd, how little have I lost?
153 My life's amusements have been just the same,
154 Before, and after Standing Armies came.
[Page 129]
155 My lands are sold, my father's house is gone;
156 I'll hire another's: is not that my own?
157 And yours, my friends? thro' whose free-opening gate
158 None comes too early, none departs too late;
159 (For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best,
160 Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.)
161 "Pray heav'n it last! (cries Swift) as you go on;
162 "I wish to God this house had been your own.
163 "Pity! to build, without a son or wife:
164 "Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life."---
165 Well, if the use be mine, can it concern one
166 Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?
167 What's Property? dear Swift! you see it alter
168 From you to me, from me to Peter Walter,
169 Or, in a mortgage, prove the Lawyer's share,
170 Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir,
171 Or in pure equity (the case not clear)
172 The Chanc'ry takes your rents for twenty year:
173 At best, it falls to some ungracious son,
174 Who cries, my father's damn'd, and all's my own.
175 Shades, that to Ba--n could retreat afford,
176 Are now the portion of a booby lord;
[Page 130]
177 And Hemsley, once proud [Footnote: 1Kb] Buckingham's delight,
178 Slides to a Scriv'ner or a city Knight.
179 Let lands and houses have what lords they will,
180 Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still.
[Page 131]
SATIRES OF Dr. JOHN DONNE, Dean of St. Paul's.
Quid vetat, ut nosmet Lucili scripta legentes
Quærere, num illius, num rerum dura negarit
Versiculos natura magis factos, & euntes
Mollius?
Hor.
[Page 133]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE SECOND SATIRE OF Dr. JOHN DONNE. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Yes; thank my stars! as early as I knew
2 This Town, I had the sense to hate it too:
3 Yet here, as ev'n in Hell, there must be still
4 One Giant-Vice, so excellently ill,
5 That all beside one pities, not abhors;
6 As who knows Sapho, smiles at other whores.
7 I grant that Poetry's a crying sin;
8 It brought (no doubt) th'Excise and Army in:
9 Catch'd like the Plague, or Love, the lord knows how,
10 But that the cure is starving, all allow.
11 Yet like the Papists, is the Poets state,
12 Poor and disarm'd, and hardly worth your hate.
13 Here a lean Bard whose wit could never give
14 Himself a dinner, makes an Actor live:
[Page 135]
15 The Thief condemn'd, in law already dead,
16 So prompts, and saves a rogue who cannot read.
17 Thus as the pipes of some carv'd Organ move,
18 The gilded puppets dance and mount above,
19 Heav'd by the breath th'inspiring bellows blow:
20 Th'inspiring bellows lie and pant below.
21 One sings the Fair; but songs no longer move,
22 No rat is rhym'd to death, nor maid to love:
23 In love's, in nature's spite, the siege they hold,
24 And scorn the flesh, the dev'l, and all but gold.
25 These write to Lords, some mean reward to get,
26 As needy beggars sing at doors for meat.
27 Those write because all write, and so have still
28 Excuse for writing and for writing ill.
29 Wretched indeed but far more wretched yet
30 Is he who makes his meal on others wit:
31 'Tis chang'd indeed from what it was before,
32 His rank digestion makes it wit no more:
33 Sense, past thro' him, no longer is the same,
34 For food digested takes another name.
35 I pass o'er all those Confessors and Martyrs
36 Who live like S---tt---n, or who die like Chartres,
37 Out-cant old Esdras, or out-drink his heir,
38 Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-swear;
39 Wicked as pages, who in early years
40 Act sins which Prisca's Confessor scarce hears:
41 Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful sake
42 Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;
43 Of whose strange crimes no Canonist can tell
44 In what Commandment's large contents they dwell.
[Page 137]
45 One, one man only breeds my just offence;
46 Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave Impudence:
47 Time, that at last, matures a clap to pox,
48 Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox,
49 And brings all natural events to pass,
50 Hath made him an Attorney of an Ass.
51 No young divine, new-benefic'd, can be
52 More pert, more proud, more positive than he.
53 What further could I wish the fop to do,
54 But turn a wit, and scribble verses too?
55 Pierce the soft lab'rinth of a Lady's ear
56 With rhymes of this per cent. and that per year?
57 To court a wife, and spread his wily parts,
58 Like nets or lime-twiggs, for rich widows hearts?
59 Call himself Barrister to ev'ry wench,
60 And wooe in language of the Pleas and Bench?
61 Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold,
62 More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
63 Curs'd be the wretch so venal and so vain;
64 Paltry and proud, as drabs in Drury-lane.
65 'Tis such a bounty as was never known,
66 If Peter deigns to help you to your own:
67 What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies!
68 And what a solemn face if he denies!
69 Grave, as when pris'ners shake the head, and swear
70 'Twas only Suretyship that brought 'em there.
71 His Office keeps your Parchment-fates entire,
72 He starves with cold to save them from the fire;
73 For you, he walks the streets thro' rain or dust,
74 For not in Chariots Peter puts his trust;
[Page 139]
75 For you he sweats and labours at the laws,
76 Takes God to witness he affects your cause,
77 And lies to every Lord in every thing,
78 Like a King's Favourite---or like a King.
79 These are the talents that adorn them all,
80 From wicked Waters ev'n to godly---
81 Not more of Simony beneath black gowns,
82 Nor more of bastardy in heirs to Crowns.
83 In shillings and in pence at first they deal,
84 And steal so little, few perceive they steal;
85 Till like the sea, they compass all the land,
86 From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand.
87 And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
88 Or when a Duke to Jansen punts at White's,
89 Or city heir in mortagage melts away,
90 Satan himself feels far less joy than they.
91 Piecemeal they win this acre first, then that,
92 Glean on, and gather up the whole estate.
93 Then strongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
94 Indentures, Cov'nants, Articles they draw,
95 Large as the fields themselves, and larger far
96 Than civil Codes, with all their glosses are;
97 So vast, our new Divines, we must confess,
98 Are fathers of the Church for writing less.
99 But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
100 The deeds, and dextrously omits, ses heires:
101 No commentator can more slily pass
102 O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;
103 Or, in quotation, shrew'd divines leave out
104 Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.
[Page 141]
105 So Luther thought the Pater noster long,
106 When doom'd to say his beads and Evensong;
107 But having cast his cowle, and left those laws,
108 Adds to Christ's prayer, the Pow'r and Glory clause.
109 The lands are bought; but where are to be found
110 Those ancient woods, that shaded all the ground?
111 We see no new-built palaces aspire,
112 No kitchens emulate the vestal fire.
113 Where are those troops of Poor, that throng'd of yore
114 The good old landlord's hospitable door?
115 Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes
116 Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole hecatombs;
117 That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
118 Carthusian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals;
119 And all mankind might that just Mean observe,
120 In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve.
121 These as good works 'tis true we all allow;
122 But, oh! these works are not in fashion now:
123 Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
124 Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.
125 Thus much I've said, I trust without offence;
126 Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense,
127 Nor sly Informer watch these words to draw
128 Within the reach of Treason, or the Law.
[Page 143]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE FOURTH SATIRE OF Dr. JOHN DONNE. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Well, if it be my time to quit the stage,
2 Adieu to all the follies of the age!
3 I die in charity with fool and knave,
4 Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
5 I've had my purgatory here betimes,
6 And paid for all my satires, all my rhymes.
7 The Poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames,
8 To this were trifles, toys, and empty names.
9 With foolish pride my heart was never fir'd,
10 Nor the vain itch t'admire, or be admir'd;
11 I hop'd for no commission from his Grace;
12 I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
13 Had no new verses, or new suit to show;
14 Yet went to Court!---the Dev'l would have it so.
[Page 145]
15 But, as the fool that in reforming days
16 Wou'd go to Mass in jest, (as story says)
17 Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
18 Since 'twas no form'd design of serving God:
19 So was I punish'd, as if full as proud
20 As prone to ill, as negligent of good,
21 As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
22 As vain, as idle, and as false, as they
23 Who live at Court, for going once that way!
24 Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
25 A thing which Adam had been pos'd to name;
26 Noah had refus'd it lodging in his Ark,
27 Where all the race of Reptiles might embark:
28 A verier monster than on Africk's shore,
29 The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,
30 Or Sloane, or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain;
31 Nay, all that lying Travellers can feign.
32 The watch would hardly let him pass at noon;
33 At night, wou'd swear him dropt out of the moon:
34 One whom the mob, when next we find or make
35 A Popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take;
36 And the wise Justice starting from his chair
37 Cry, by your Priesthood tell me what you are?
38 Such was the wight: Th'apparel on his back
39 Tho' coarse, was rev'rend, and tho' bare, was black:
40 The suit, if by the fashion one might guess,
41 Was velvet in the youth of good queen Bess,
42 But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd;
43 So time that changes all things, had ordain'd!
[Page 147]
44 Our sons shall see it leisurely decay,
45 First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.
46 This thing has travel'd, speaks each language too,
47 And knows what's fit for every state to do;
48 Of whose best phrase and courtly accent join'd,
49 He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd.
50 Talkers, I've learn'd to bear; Motteux I knew,
51 Henley himself I've heard, and Budgel too:
52 The Doctor's Wormwood style, the Hash of tongues
53 A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonson's lungs,
54 The whole Artill'ry of the terms of War,
55 And (all those plagues in one) the bawling Bar:
56 These I cou'd bear; but not a rogue so civil,
57 Whose tongue will complement you to the devil.
58 A tongue that can cheat widows, cancel scores,
59 Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtlest whores,
60 With royal Favourites in flatt'ry vie,
61 And Oldmixon and Burnet both out-lie.
62 He spies me out, I whisper, gracious God!
63 What sin of mine cou'd merit such a rod?
64 That all the shot of dulness now must be
65 From this thy blunderbuss discharg'd on me!
66 Permit (he cries) no stranger to your fame
67 To crave your sentiment, if ---'s your name.
68 What Speech esteem you most?---"The King's, said I.
69 But the best words?---"O Sir, the Dictionary.
70 You miss my aim; I mean the most acute
71 And perfect Speaker?---"Onslow, past dispute.
72 But Sir, of writers? "Swift, for closer style,
73 "But Ho--y for a period of a mile.
[Page 149]
74 Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pass;
75 Good common linguists, and so Panurge was;
76 Nay, troth, th'Apostles (tho' perhaps too rough)
77 Had once a pretty gift of tongues enough:
78 Yet these were all poor Gentlemen! I dare
79 Affirm, 'twas Travel made them what they were.
80 Thus others talents having nicely shown,
81 He came by sure transition to his own:
82 Till I cry'd out, You prove your self so able,
83 Pity! you was not Druggerman at Bable;
84 For had they found a linguist half so good,
85 I make no question but the Tow'r had stood.
86 "Obliging Sir! for Courts you sure were made:
87 "Why then for ever buried in the shade?
88 "Spirits like you, should see and shou'd be seen,
89 "The King would smile on you---at least the Queen.
90 Ah gentle Sir! you Courtiers so cajol us---
91 But Tully has it, Nunquam minus solus:
92 And as for Courts, forgive me if I say
93 No lessons now are taught the Spartan way:
94 Tho' in his pictures Lust be full display'd,
95 Few are the Converts Aretine has made;
96 And tho' the Court show Vice exceeding clear,
97 None shou'd, by my advice, learn Virtue there.
98 At this entranc'd, he lifts his hands and eyes,
99 Squeaks like a high-stretch'd lutestring, and replies:
100 "Oh 'tis the sweetest of all earthly things
101 "To gaze on Princes, and to talk of Kings!
102 Then happy Man who shows the Tombs! said I,
103 He dwells amidst the royal Family;
[Page 151]
104 He ev'ry day, from King to King can walk,
105 Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk,
106 And get by speaking truth of monarchs dead,
107 What few can of the living, Ease and Bread.
108 "Lord, Sir, a meer mechanic! strangely low,
109 "And coarse of phrase---your English all are so.
110 "How elegant the Frenchman?---Mine, d'ye mean?
111 I have but one, I hope the fellow's clean.
112 "Oh! Sir, politely well! nay, let me die,
113 "Your only wearing is your Padua-soy."
114 Not Sir my only, I have better still,
115 And this you see is but my dishabille---
116 Wild to get loose, his Patience I provoke,
117 Mistake, confound, object at all he spoke.
118 But as coarse iron, sharpen'd, mangles more,
119 And itch most hurts when anger'd to a sore;
120 So when you plague a fool, 'tis still the curse,
121 You only make the matter worse and worse.
122 He past it o'er; affects an easy smile
123 At all my peevishness, and turns his style.
124 He asks, "what News? I tell him of new Plays,
125 New Eunuchs, Harlequins, and Operas.
126 He hears, and as a Still with simples in it,
127 Between each drop it gives, stays half a minute,
128 Loth to enrich me with too quick replies,
129 By little, and by little, drops his lies.
130 Meer houshold trash! of birth-nights, balls, and shows,
131 More than ten Hollingsheads, or Halls, or Stows.
132 When the Queen frown'd, or smil'd, he knows; and what
133 A subtle Minister may make of that?
[Page 153]
134 Who sins with whom? who got his Pension rug,
135 Or quicken'd a Reversion by a drug?
136 Whose place is quarter'd out, three parts in four,
137 And whether to a Bishop or a Whore?
138 Who, having lost his credit, pawn'd his rent,
139 Is therefore fit to have a Government?
140 Who in the secret, deals in Stocks secure,
141 And cheats th'unknowing Widow and the Poor?
142 Who makes a Trust, or Charity a Job,
143 And gets an Act of Parliament to rob?
144 Why Turnpikes rose, and now no Cit nor clown
145 Can gratis see the country, or the town?
146 Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole,
147 But some excising Courtier will have toll.
148 He tells what strumpet places sells for life,
149 What 'Squire his lands, what citizen his wife?
150 And last (which proves him wiser still than all)
151 What Lady's face is not a whited wall?
152 As one of Woodward's patients, sick and sore,
153 I puke, I nauseate,---yet he thrusts in more:
154 Trims Europe's balance, tops the statesman's part,
155 And talks Gazettes and Post-boys o'er by heart.
156 Like a big wife, at sight of loathsome meat
157 Ready to cast, I yawn, I sigh, I sweat.
158 Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can
159 Silence or hurt, he libels the great Man;
160 Swears every place entail'd for years to come,
161 In sure succession to the day of doom:
162 He names the price for ev'ry office paid,
163 And says our wars thrive ill, because delay'd:
[Page 145]
164 Nay hints, 'tis by connivance of the Court,
165 That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk's still a Port.
166 Not more amazement seiz'd on Circe's guests,
167 To see themselves fall endlong into beasts,
168 Than mine, to find a subject stay'd and wise
169 Already half turn'd traytor by surprize.
170 I felt th'infection slide from him to me,
171 As in the pox, some give it to get free;
172 And quick to swallow me, methought I saw
173 One of our Giant Statutes ope its jaw!
174 In that nice moment, as another lye
175 Stood just a-tilt, the Minister came by.
176 To him he flies, and bows, and bows again---
177 Then close as Umbra, joins the dirty train.
178 Not Fannius self more impudently near,
179 When half his nose is in his Prince's ear.
180 I quak'd at heart; and still afraid to see
181 All the court fill'd with stranger things than he,
182 Ran out as fast, as one that pays his bail
183 And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
184 Bear me, some God! oh quickly bear me hence
185 To wholsome Solitude, the nurse of sense:
186 There Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
187 And the free soul looks down to pity Kings.
188 There sober thought pursu'd th'amusing theme,
189 Till Fancy colour'd it, and form'd a Dream.
190 A vision hermits can to Hell transport,
191 And force ev'n me to see the damn'd at Court.
192 Not Dante dreaming all th'infernal state,
193 Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate.
194 Base Fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
195 Suits Tyrants, Plunderers, but suits not me:
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196 Shall I, the Terror of this sinful town,
197 Care, if a livery'd Lord or smile or frown?
198 Who cannot flatter, and detest who can,
199 Tremble before a noble Serving-man?
200 O my fair mistress, Truth! shall I quit thee,
201 For huffing, braggart, puft Nobility?
202 Thou who since yesterday hast roll'd o'er all
203 The busy, idle blockheads of the ball,
204 Hast thou, oh sun! beheld an emptier sort,
205 Than such as swell this bladder of a court?
206 Now pox on those who shew a [Footnote: 1Kb] Court in wax!
207 It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs:
208 Such painted puppets, such a varnish'd race
209 Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face,
210 Such waxen noses, stately staring things---
211 No wonder some folks bow, and think them Kings.
212 See! where the British youth, engag'd no more
213 At Fig's [Footnote: 1Kb] or White's, with felons, or a whore,
214 Pay their last duty to the Court! and come
215 All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;
216 In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
217 As the fair fields they sold to look so fine.
218 "That's velvet for a King!" the flatt'rer swears;
219 'Tis true, for ten days hence 'twill be King Lear's.
220 Our court may justly to our stage give rules,
221 That helps it both to fools-coats and to fools.
222 And why not players strut in courtier's cloaths?
223 For these are actors too, as well as those:
[Page 149]
224 Wants reach all states; they beg but better drest,
225 And all is splendid poverty at best.
226 Painted for sight, and essenc'd for the smell,
227 Like frigates fraught with spice and cochine'l,
228 Sail in the Ladies: How each pyrate eyes
229 So weak a vessel, and so rich a prize!
230 Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim,
231 He boarding her, she striking sail to him:
232 "Dear Countess! you have charms all hearts to hit!
233 And "sweet Sir Fopling! you have so much wit!
234 Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for nought,
235 For both the beauty and the wit are bought.
236 'Twou'd burst ev'n Heraclitus with the spleen,
237 To see those anticks, Fopling and Courtin:
238 The Presence seems, with things so richly odd,
239 The mosque of Mahound, or some queer Pa-god.
240 See them survey their limbs by Durer's rules,
241 Of all beau-kind the best-proportion'd fools!
242 Adjust their cloaths, and to confession draw
243 Those venial sins, an atom, or a straw:
244 But, oh! what terrors must distract the soul
245 Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole;
246 Or should one pound of powder less bespread
247 Those monkey-tails that wag behind their head!
248 Thus finish'd, and corrected to a hair,
249 They march, to prate their hour before the fair,
250 So first to preach a white-glov'd Chaplain goes,
251 With band of Lilly, and with cheek of Rose,
252 Sweeter than Sharon, in immac'late trim,
253 Neatness itself impertinent in him.
254 Let but the Ladies smile, and they are blest:
255 Prodigious! how the things protest, protest:
[Page 151]
256 Peace fools, or Gonson will for Papists seize you,
257 If once he catch you at your Jesu! Jesu!
258 Nature made ev'ry Fop to plague his brother,
259 Just as one Beauty mortifies another.
260 But here's the Captain that will plague them both,
261 Whose air cries arm! whose very look's an oath:
262 The Captain's honest, Sirs, and that's enough,
263 Tho' his soul's bullet, and his body buff:
264 He spits fore-right; his haughty chest before
265 Like batt'ring rams, beats open ev'ry door;
266 And with a face as red, and as awry,
267 As Herod's hang-dogs in old Tapestry,
268 Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's curse,
269 Has yet a strange ambition to look worse;
270 Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe,
271 Jests like a licens'd fool, commands like law.
272 Frighted I quit the room, but leave it so
273 As men from Jayls to execution go;
274 For hung with deadly Sins I see the wall,
275 And lin'd with Giants, deadlier than 'em all:
276 Each man an Askapart, of strength to toss
277 For Quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-cross.
278 Scar'd at the grizly forms, I sweat, I fly,
279 And shake all o'er, like a discover'd spy.
280 Courts are no match for wits so weak as mine:
281 Charge them with Heaven's Artill'ry, bold Divine!
282 From such alone the Great rebukes endure,
283 Whose satyr's sacred, and whose rage secure:
284 'Tis mine to wash a few slight stains, but theirs
285 To deluge sin, and drown a Court in tears.
286 Howe'er what's now Apocrypha, my Wit,
287 In time to come, may pass for holy writ.
[Page 152]
EPITAPHS.
His saltem accumulem donis, & fungar inani
Munere!
Virg.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: I. On Sir William Trumbal,
One of the Principal Secretaries of State to
King William III. who having resigned
his place, dyed in his Retirement at Easthamsted
in Berkshire, 1716. [from The Works (1736)]
1 A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious Mind,
2 Sincere, tho' prudent, constant, yet resign'd;
3 Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest,
4 Fix'd to one side, but mod'rate to the rest:
5 An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too,
6 Just to his Prince, and to his Country true.
7 Fill'd with the sense of Age, the fire of Youth,
8 A Scorn of wrangling, yet a Zeal for truth,
[Page 153]
9 A gen'rous Faith, from superstition free;
10 A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny;
11 Such this man was; who now from earth remov'd,
12 At length enjoys that Liberty he lov'd.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: II. On Charles Earl of Dorset,
In the Church of Withyham in Sussex. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Dorset, the Grace of Courts, the Muses Pride,
2 Patron of Arts, and Judge of Nature, dy'd!
3 The Scourge of Pride, tho' sanctify'd or great,
4 Of Fops in learning, and of Knaves in state:
5 Yet soft his Nature, tho' severe his lay,
6 His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay.
7 Blest Satyrist! who touch'd the mean so true,
8 As show'd, vice had his hate and pity too.
9 Blest Courtier! who could King and Country please,
10 Yet sacred keep his Friendships, and his Ease.
11 Blest Peer! his great Forefathers ev'ry grace
12 Reflecting, and reflected in his Race;
13 Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine,
14 And Patriots still, or Poets, deck the line.
[Page 154]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: III. On the Honble Simon Harcouut,
Only Son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt: at
the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire.
1720. [from The Works (1736)]
1 To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art! draw near,
2 Here lies the Friend most lov'd, the Son most dear:
3 Who ne'er knew joy, but Friendship might divide,
4 Or gave his Father grief but when he dy'd.
5 How vain is Reason, Eloquence how weak!
6 If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak!
7 Oh let thy once lov'd friend inscribe thy Stone,
8 And, with a Father's sorrows, mix his own!
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: IV. Intended for Mr. Rowe, In Westminster-Abby. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair tomb we trust,
2 And sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust:
[Page 155]
3 Beneath a [Footnote: 1Kb] rude and nameless stone he lies,
4 To which thy Urn shall guide inquiring eyes.
5 Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest,
6 Blest in thy Genius, in thy Love too blest!
7 One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
8 What a whole thankless land to his denies.
[Page 156]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: V. On Mrs. Corbet, Who dyed of a Cancer in her Breast. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Here rests a Woman, good without pretence,
2 Blest with plain Reason, and with sober Sense;
3 No Conquest she, but o'er herself desir'd,
4 No Arts essay'd, but not to be admir'd.
5 Passion and Pride were to her soul unknown,
6 Convinc'd that virtue only is our own.
7 So unaffected, so compos'd a mind,
8 So firm, yet soft; so strong, yet so refin'd;
9 Heav'n as its purest gold, by Tortures try'd;
10 The Saint sustain'd it, but the Woman dy'd.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: VI. On the Monument of the Honourable Robert
Digby, and of his Sister Mary, erected by their
Father the Lord Didby in the Church of
Sherborne in Dorsetshine, 1727. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Go! fair Example of untainted youth,
2 Of modest wisdom, and pacifick truth;
3 Compos'd in suff'rings, and in joy sedate,
4 Good without noise, without pretension great!
[Page 157]
5 Just of thy word, in ev'ry thought sincere,
6 Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
7 Of softest manners, unaffected mind,
8 Lover of peace, and friend of human kind.
9 Go live! for Heav'n's Eternal year is thine,
10 Go, and exalt thy Moral to Divine.
11 And thou blest Maid! attendant on his doom,
12 Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb,
13 Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore,
14 Not parted long, and now to part no more!
15 Go then! where only bliss sincere is known,
16 Go! where to love and to enjoy are one.
17 Yet take these Tears, Mortality's relief,
18 And till we share your joys, forgive our grief:
19 These little rites, a Stone, a Verse, receive,
20 'Tis all a Father, all a Friend can give!
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: VII. On Sir Godfrey Kneller, In Westminster-Abby, 1723. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Kneller, by Heav'n and not a Master taught,
2 Whose Art was Nature, and whose Pictures thought;
3 Now for two ages having snatch'd from fate
4 Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,
5 Lies crown'd with Princes honours, Poets lays,
6 Due to his Merit, and brave Thirst of praise.
[Page 158]
7 [Footnote: 1Kb] Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
8 Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: VIII. On General Henry Withers, In Westminster-Abbey, 1729. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Here Withers rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
2 Thy Country's friend, but more of Human kind.
3 Oh born to Arms! O Worth in youth approv'd!
4 Oh soft Humanity, in Age belov'd!
5 For thee the hardy Vet'ran drops a tear,
6 And the gay Courtier feels the sigh sincere.
7 Withers adieu! yet not with thee remove
8 Thy Martial spirit, or thy Social love!
9 Amidst Corruption, Luxury, and Rage,
10 Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:
11 Nor let us say, (those English glories gone)
12 The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: IX. On Mr. Elijah Fenton, At Easthamstead in Berks, 1730. [from The Works (1736)]
1 This modest stone what few vain Marbles can
2 May truly say, here lies an honest Man.
[Page 159]
3 A Poet, blest beyond the Poet's fate,
4 Whom Heav'n kept sacred from the Proud and Great:
5 Foe to loud praise, and Friend to learned ease,
6 Content with science in the Vale of Peace.
7 Calmly he look'd on either Life, and here
8 Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear;
9 From Nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfy'd,
10 Thank'd heav'n that he had liv'd, and that he dy'd.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: X. On Mr. Gay, In Westminster-Abbey, 1732. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild;
2 In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child:
3 With native Humour temp'ring virtuous Rage,
4 Form'd to delight, at once, and lash the age:
5 Above Temptation, in a low estate,
6 And uncorrupted, ev'n among the Great;
7 A safe Companion, and an easy Friend,
8 Unblam'd thro' life, lamented in thy end.
9 These are Thy Honours! not that here thy Bust
10 Is mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy dust;
11 But that the Worthy and the Good shall say,
12 Striking their pensive bosoms---Here lies Gay.
[Page 160]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: XI. Intended for Sir Isaac Newton in Westminster-Abbey. [from The Works (1736)]
ISAACUS NEWTONIUS:/
Quem Immortalem/
Testantur Tempus, Natura, Coelum:/
Mortalem Hoc marmor fatetur.
1 Nature and Nature's Laws lay hid in Night:
2 GOD said, Let Newton be! And all was Light.
VOL. III.
Consisting of FABLES, TRANSLATIONS, and IMITATIONS.
[Page iii]
[Page v]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following Translations were selected
from many others done by the
Author in his Youth; for the most part indeed
but a sort of Exercises, while he was
improving himself in the Languages, and
carried by his early Bent to Poetry to perform
them rather in Verse than Prose. Mr.
Dryden's Fables came out about that time,
which occasion'd the Translations from
Chaucer. They were first separately printed
in Miscellanies by J. Tonson and B. Lintot,
and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition
of 1717. The Imitations of English
Authors which are added at the end, were
[Page vi]
done as early, some of them at fourteen or
fifteen Years old; but having also got into
Miscellanies, we have put them here together
to complete this Juvenile Volume.
[Page 1]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE TEMPLE OF FAME.
Written in the Year 1711.
[from The Works (1736)]
[Page 2]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The hint of the following piece was taken from
Chaucer's House of Fame. The design is in a
manner entirely alter'd, the descriptions and most of the
particular thoughts my own: Yet I could not suffer it
to be printed without this acknowledgment. The reader
who would compare this with Chaucer, may begin
with his third book of Fame, there being nothing in the
two first books that answers to their title: Wherever any
hint is taken from him, the passage itself is set down in
the marginal notes.
[Page 3]
1 [Footnote: 1Kb] In that soft season when descending show'rs
2 Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
3 When opening buds salute the welcome day,
4 And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
[Page 4]
5 As balmy sleep had charm'd my cares to rest,
6 And love itself was banish'd from my breast,
7 (What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
8 While purer slumbers spread their golden wings)
9 A train of phantoms in wild order rose,
10 And, join'd, this intellectual scene compose.
11 [Footnote: 1Kb] I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies;
12 The whole creation open to my eyes:
13 In air self-ballanc'd hung the globe below,
14 Where mountains rise, and circling oceans flow;
15 Here naked rocks, and empty wastes were seen,
16 There tow'ry cities, and the forests green:
17 Here sailing ships delight the wand'ring eyes:
18 There trees, and intermingl'd temples rise;
19 Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
20 The transient landscape now in clouds decays.
21 O'er the wide prospect as I gaz'd around,
22 Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,
23 Like broken thunders that at distance roar,
24 Or billows murm'ring on the hollow shore:
[Page 5]
25 Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,
26 Whose tow'ring summit ambient clouds conceal'd.
27 [Footnote: 1Kb] High on a rock of Ice the structure lay,
28 Steep its ascent, and slipp'ry was the way;
29 The wond'rous rock like Parian marble shone,
30 And seem'd, to distant sight, of solid stone.
31 [Footnote: 1Kb] Inscriptions here of various Names I view'd,
32 The greater part by hostile time subdu'd;
[Page 6]
33 Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,
34 And Poets once had promis'd they should last.
35 Some fresh engrav'd appear'd of Wits renown'd;
36 I look'd again, nor could their trace be found.
37 Critics I saw, that other names deface,
38 And fix their own, with labour, in their place:
39 Their own, like others, soon their place resign'd,
40 Or disappear'd, and left the first behind.
41 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,
42 But felt th'approaches of too warm a sun;
43 For Fame, impatient of extreams, decays
44 Not more by Envy than excess of Praise.
45 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yet part no injuries of heav'n could feel,
46 Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
[Page 7]
47 The rock's high summit, in the temple's shade,
48 Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
49 There names inscrib'd unnumber'd ages past
50 From time's first birth, with time itself shall last;
51 These ever new, nor subject to decays,
52 Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
53 So Zembla's rocks (the beauteous work of frost)
54 Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast;
55 Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away,
56 And on th'impassive ice the lightnings play;
57 Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
58 'Till the bright mountains prop th'incumbent sky:
59 As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears,
60 The gather'd winter of a thousand years.
61 On this foundation Fame's high temple stands;
62 Stupendous pile! not rear'd by mortal hands.
63 Whate'er proud Rome, or artful Greece beheld,
64 Or elder Babylon, its frame excell'd.
[Page 8]
65 [Footnote: 1Kb] Four faces had the dome, and ev'ry face
66 Of various structure, but of equal grace:
67 Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high,
68 Salute the different quarters of the sky.
69 Here fabled Chiefs in darker ages born,
70 Or Worthies old, whom arms or arts adorn,
71 Who cities rais'd, or tam'd a monstrous race;
72 The walls in venerable order grace:
73 Heroes in animated marble frown,
74 And Legislators seem to think in stone.
75 Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece appear'd,
76 On Doric pillars of white marble rear'd,
77 Crown'd with an architrave of antique mold,
78 And sculpture rising on the roughen'd gold.
79 In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld,
80 And Perseus dreadful with Minerva's shield:
81 [Footnote: 1Kb] There great Alcides stooping with his toil,
82 Rests on his club, and holds th'Hesperian spoil.
[Page 9]
83 Here Orpheus sings; trees moving to the sound
84 Start from their roots, and form a shade around:
85 Amphion there the loud creating lyre
86 Strikes, and behold a sudden Thebes aspire!
87 Cythæron's echoes answer to his call,
88 And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
89 There might you see the length'ning spires ascend,
90 The domes swell up, the widening arches bend,
91 The growing tow'rs like exhalations rise,
92 And the huge columns heave into the skies.
93 The Eastern front was glorious to behold,
94 With diamond flaming, and Barbaric gold.
95 There Ninus shone, who spread th'Assyrian fame,
96 [Footnote: 1Kb] And the great founder of the Persian name:
97 There in long robes the royal Magi stand,
98 Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand,
99 The sage Chaldæans robe'd in white appear'd,
100 And Brachmans, deep in desart woods rever'd.
101 These stop'd the moon, and call'd th'unbody'd shades
102 To midnight banquets in the glimmering glades;
[Page 10]
103 Made visionary fabricks round them rise,
104 And airy spectres skim before their eyes;
105 Of Talismans and Sigils knew the pow'r,
106 And careful watch'd the Planetary hour.
107 Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
108 Who taught that useful science, to be good.
109 But on the south, a long, majestic race
110 [Footnote: 1Kb] Of Ægypt's Priests the gilded niches grace,
111 Who measur'd earth, describ'd the starry spheres,
112 And trac'd the long records of lunar years.
113 High on his car Sesostris struck my view,
114 Whom scepter'd slaves in golden harness drew:
115 His hands a bow and pointed javelin hold;
116 His giant limbs are arm'd in scales of gold.
117 Between the statues Obelisks were plac'd,
118 And the learn'd walls with Hieroglyphics grac'd.
[Page 11]
119 [Footnote: 1Kb] Of Gothic structure was the northern side,
120 O'er-wrought with ornaments of barb'rous pride.
121 There huge Colosses rose, with trophies crown'd,
122 And Runic characters were grav'd around.
123 There sate Zamolxis with erected eyes,
124 And Odin here in mimic trances dies.
125 There on rude iron columns smear'd with blood,
126 The horrid forms of Scythian heroes stood,
127 [Footnote: 1Kb] Druids and Bards (their once loud harps unstrung)
128 And youths that dy'd to be by Poets sung.
129 These and a thousand more of doubtful fame,
130 To whom old fables gave a lasting name,
[Page 12]
131 In ranks adorn'd the temples outward face;
132 [Footnote: 1Kb] The wall in lustre and effect like Glass,
133 Which o'er each object casting various dyes,
134 Enlarges some, and others multiplies:
135 Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall,
136 For thus romantic Fame increases all.
137 The Temple shakes, the sounding gates unfold,
138 Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold:
139 Rais'd on a thousand pillars, wreath'd around
140 With laurel-foliage, and with eagles crown'd:
141 Of bright, transparent beryl were the walls,
142 The freezes gold, and gold the capitals:
143 As heav'n with stars, the roof with jewels glows,
144 And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
145 Full in the passage of each spacious gate,
146 The sage Historians in white garments wait;
147 Grav'd o'er their seats the form of Time was found,
148 His scythe revers'd, and both his pinions bound.
149 Within, stood Heroes who thro' loud alarms
150 In bloody fields pursu'd renown in arms.
151 High on a throne with trophies charg'd, I view'd
152 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Youth that all things but himself subdu'd;
[Page 13]
153 His feet on sceptres and Tiara's trod,
154 And his horn'd head bely'd the Lybian God.
155 There Cæsar, grac'd with both Minerva's, shone;
156 Cæsar, the world's great master, and his own;
157 Unmov'd, superior still in ev'ry state,
158 And scarce detested in his Country's fate.
159 But chief were those, who not for empire fought,
160 But with their toils their people's safety bought:
161 High o'er the rest Epaminondas stood;
162 [Footnote: 1Kb] Timoleon, glorious in his brother's blood;
163 Bold Scipio, saviour of the Roman state,
164 Great in his triumphs, in retirement great;
165 And wise Aurelius, in whose well-taught mind
166 With boundless pow'r unbounded virtue join'd,
167 His own strict judge, and patron of mankind.
168 Much-suff'ring heroes next their honours claim,
169 Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame,
170 Fair Virtue's silent train: supreme of these
171 Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
[Page 14]
172 [Footnote: 1Kb] He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
173 At all times just, but when he sign'd the Shell:
174 Here his abode the martyr'd Phocion claims,
175 With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:
176 Unconquer'd Cato shews the wound he tore,
177 And Brutus his ill Genius meets no more.
178 [Footnote: 1Kb] But in the centre of the hallow'd quire,
179 [Footnote: 1Kb] Six pompous columns o'er the rest aspire;
[Page 15]
180 Around the shrine itself of Fame they stand,
181 Hold the chief honours, and the fane command.
182 [Footnote: 1Kb] High on the first, the mighty Homer shone;
183 Eternal Adamant compos'd his throne;
184 Father of verse! in holy fillets drest,
185 His silver beard wav'd gently o'er his breast;
186 Tho' blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
187 In years he seem'd, but not impair'd by years.
188 The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen:
189 Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;
190 Here Hector glorious from Patroclus' fall,
191 Here dragg'd in triumph round the Trojan wall.
192 Motion and life did ev'ry part inspire,
193 Bold was the work, and prov'd the master's fire;
194 A strong expression most he seem'd t'affect,
195 And here and there disclos'd a brave neglect.
[Page 16]
196 [Footnote: 2Kb] A golden column next in rank appear'd,
197 On which a shrine of purest gold was rear'd;
198 Finish'd the whole, and labour'd ev'ry part,
199 With patient touches of unweary'd art:
200 The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,
201 Compos'd his posture, and his look sedate;
202 On Homer still he fix'd a rev'rend eye,
203 Great without pride, in modest majesty.
204 In living sculpture on the sides were spread
205 The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead;
[Page 17]
206 Eliza stretch'd upon the fun'ral pyre,
207 Æneas bending with his aged fire:
208 Troy flam'd in burnish'd gold, and o'er the throne
209 Arms and the man in golden cyphers shone.
210 [Footnote: 1Kb] Four swans sustain a car of silver bright,
211 With heads advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for flight:
212 Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
213 And seem'd to labour with th'inspiring God.
214 Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
215 And boldly sinks into the sounding strings.
216 The figur'd games of Greece the column grace,
217 Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race:
218 The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run;
219 The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone;
220 The champions in distorted postures threat;
221 And all appear'd irregularly great.
222 Here happy Horace tun'd th'Ausonian lyre
223 To sweeter sounds, and temper'd Pindar's fire:
224 [Footnote: 2Kb] Pleas'd with Alcæus' manly rage t'infuse
225 The softer spirit of the Saphic Muse.
[Page 18]
226 The polish'd pillar different sculptures grace;
227 A work outlasting monumental brass.
228 Here smiling Loves and Bacchanals appear,
229 The Julian star and great Augustus here.
[Page 19]
230 The Doves that round the infant Poet spread
231 Myrtles and bays, hung hov'ring o'er his head.
232 Here in a shrine that cast a dazling light,
233 Sate fix'd in thought the mighty Stagyrite;
234 His sacred head a radiant Zodiac crown'd,
235 And various Animals his sides surround;
236 His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
237 Superiour worlds, and look all Nature thro'.
238 With equal rays immortal Tully shone,
239 The Roman Rostra deck'd the Consul's throne:
240 Gath'ring his flowing robe, he seem'd to stand
241 In act to speak, and graceful stretch'd his hand.
242 Behind, Rome's Genius waits with Civic crowns,
243 And the great Father of his country owns.
244 These massy columns in a circle rise,
245 O'er which a pompous dome invades the skies:
246 Scarce to the top I stretch'd my aking sight,
247 So large it spread, and swell'd to such a height.
248 Full in the midst proud Fame's imperial seat
249 With jewels blaz'd, magnificently great;
250 The vivid em'ralds there revive the eye,
251 The flaming rubies shew their sanguine dye,
252 Bright azure rays from lively saphyrs stream,
253 And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.
254 With various-colour'd light the pavement shone,
255 And all on fire appear'd the glowing throne;
256 The dome's high arch reflects the mingled blaze,
257 And forms a rainbow of alternate rays.
[Page 20]
258 When on the Goddess first I cast my sight,
259 [Footnote: 1Kb] Scarce seem'd her stature of a cubit's height;
260 But swell'd to larger size, the more I gaz'd,
261 Till to the roof her tow'ring front she rais'd.
262 With her, the Temple ev'ry moment grew,
263 And ampler Vista's open'd to my view:
264 Upward the columns shoot, the roofs ascend,
265 And arches widen, and long iles extend.
266 Such was her form, as antient bards have told,
267 Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet infold;
268 A thousand busy tongues the Goddess bears,
269 And thousand open eyes, and thousand list'ning ears.
270 [Footnote: 1Kb] Beneath, in order rang'd, the tuneful Nine
271 (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine:
272 With eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they sing;
273 For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
[Page 21]
274 With time's first birth began the heav'nly lays,
275 And last, eternal, thro' the length of days.
276 [Footnote: 1Kb] Around these wonders as I cast a look,
277 The trumpet sounded, and the Temple shook,
278 And all the Nations summon'd at the call,
279 From diff'rent quarters fill the crouded hall:
280 Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard;
281 In various garbs promiscuous throngs appear'd;
282 Thick as the bees, that with the spring renew
283 Their flow'ry toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
284 When the wing'd colonies first tempt the sky,
285 O'er dusky fields and shaded waters fly,
286 Or settling, seize the sweets the blossoms yield,
287 And a low murmur runs along the field.
288 Millions of suppliant crouds the shrine attend,
289 And all degrees before the Goddess bend;
290 The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the sage,
291 And boasting youth, and narrative old-age.
[Page 22]
292 Their pleas were diff'rent, their request the same;
293 For good and bad alike are fond of Fame.
294 [Footnote: 1Kb] Some she disgrac'd, and some with honours crown'd;
295 Unlike successes equal merits found.
296 Thus her blind sister, sickle Fortune reigns,
297 And undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
298 First at the shrine the Learned world appear,
299 And to the Goddess thus prefer their pray'r.
300 Long have we sought t'instruct and please mankind,
301 With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind;
302 But thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none,
303 We here appeal to thy superior throne:
304 On wit and learning the just prize bestow,
305 For Fame is all we must expect below.
306 The Goddess heard, and bade the Muses raise
307 The golden Trumpet of eternal Praise:
308 From pole to pole the winds diffuse the sound,
309 That fills the circuit of the world around;
310 Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud;
311 The notes at first were rather sweet than loud:
312 By just degrees they ev'ry moment rise,
313 Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.
[Page 23]
314 At ev'ry breath were balmy odours shed,
315 Which still grew sweeter as they wider spread:
316 Less fragrant scents th'unfolding rose exhales,
317 Or spices breathing in Arabian gales.
318 [Footnote: 2Kb] Next these the good and just, an awful train,
319 Thus on their knees address'd the sacred fane.
320 Since living virtue is with envy curs'd,
321 And the best men are treated like the worst,
322 Do thou, just Goddess, call our merits forth,
323 And give each deed th'exact, intrinsic worth.
[Page 24]
324 Not with bare justice shall your act be crown'd,
325 (Said Fame) but high above desert renown'd:
326 Let fuller notes th'applauding world amaze,
327 And the loud clarion labour in your praise.
328 [Footnote: 1Kb] This band dismiss'd, behold another croud
329 Prefer'd the same request, and lowly bow'd;
330 The constant tenour of whose well-spent days
331 No less deserv'd a just return of praise.
332 But strait the direful Trump of Slander sounds;
333 Thro' the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
334 Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
335 The dire report thro' ev'ry region flies:
336 In ev'ry ear incessant rumours rung,
337 And gath'ring scandals grew on ev'ry tongue.
338 From the black trumpet's rusty concave broke
339 Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling smoke:
[Page 25]
340 The pois'nous vapour blots the purple skies,
341 And withers all before it as it flies.
342 A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore,
343 And proud defiance in their looks they bore:
344 For thee (they cry'd) amidst alarms and strife,
345 We sail'd in tempests down the stream of life;
346 For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood,
347 And swam to empire thro' the purple flood.
348 Those ills we dar'd, thy inspiration own,
349 What virtue seem'd, was done for thee alone.
350 Ambitious fools! (the Queen reply'd, and frown'd)
351 Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown'd;
352 There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone,
353 Your statues moulder'd, and your names unknown!
354 A sudden cloud strait snatch'd them from my sight,
355 And each majestic phantom sunk in night.
356 [Footnote: 2Kb] Then came the smallest tribe I yet had seen;
357 Plain was their dress, and modest was their mien.
[Page 26]
358 Great idol of mankind! we neither claim
359 The praise of merit, nor aspire to fame!
360 But safe in desarts from th'applause of men,
361 Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen.
362 'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from sight
363 Those acts of goodness, which themselves requite.
364 O let us still the secret joy partake,
365 To follow virtue ev'n for virtue's sake.
366 And live there men who slight immortal fame?
367 Who then with incense shall adore our name?
[Page 27]
368 But mortals! know, 'tis still our greatest pride
369 To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
370 Rise! Muses, rise, add all your tuneful breath,
371 These must not sleep in darkness and in death.
372 She said: in air the trembling music floats,
373 And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
374 So soft, tho' high, so loud, and yet so clear,
375 Ev'n list'ning Angels lean'd from heav'n to hear:
376 To farthest shores th'Ambrosial spirit flies,
377 Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
378 [Footnote: 1Kb] Next these a youthful train their vows express'd,
379 With feathers crown'd, with gay embroidery dress'd;
380 Hither, they cry'd, direct your eyes, and see
381 The men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry;
382 Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays,
383 Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;
384 Courts we frequent, where 'tis our pleasing care
385 To pay due visits, and address the fair:
386 In fact, 'tis true, no nymph we could persuade,
387 But still in fancy vanquish'd ev'ry maid;
388 Of unknown Duchesses leud tales we tell,
389 Yet would the world believe us, all were well.
[Page 28]
390 The joy let others have, and we the name,
391 And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.
392 The Queen assents, the trumpet rends the skies,
393 And at each blast a Lady's honour dies.
394 Pleas'd with the strange success, vast numbers prest
395 Around the shrine, and made the same request:
396 What you (she cry'd) unlearn'd in arts to please,
397 Slaves to yourselves, and ev'n fatigu'd with ease,
398 Who lose a length of undeserving days,
399 Would you usurp the lover's dear-bought praise?
400 To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,
401 The people's fable, and the scorn of all.
402 Strait the black clarion sends a horrid sound,
403 Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round,
404 Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
405 And scornful hisses run thro' all the croud.
406 [Footnote: 1Kb] Last, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
407 Enslave their country, or usurp a throne;
408 Or who their glory's dire foundation lay'd
409 On Sov'reigns ruin'd, or on friends betray'd:
410 Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix,
411 Of crooked counsels and dark politicks;
412 Of these, a gloomy tribe surround the throne,
413 And beg to make th'immortal treasons known.
414 The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire,
415 With sparks, that seem'd to set the world on fire.
[Page 29]
416 At the dread sound, pale mortals stood aghast,
417 And startled nature trembled with the blast.
418 [Footnote: 2Kb] This having heard and seen, some pow'r unknown
419 Strait chang'd the scene, and snatch'd me from the throne.
420 Before my view appear'd a structure fair,
421 Its site uncertain, if in earth or air;
[Page 30]
422 With rapid motion turn'd the mansion round;
423 With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound:
424 Not less in number were the spacious doors,
425 Than leaves on trees, or sands upon the shores;
426 Which still unfolded stand, by night, by day,
427 Pervious to winds, and open ev'ry way.
428 [Footnote: 1Kb] As flames by nature to the skies ascend,
429 As weighty bodies to the centre tend,
430 As to the sea returning rivers roll,
431 And the touch'd needle trembles to the pole;
432 Hither, as to their proper place, arise
433 All various sounds from earth, and seas, and skies,
434 Or spoke aloud, or whisper'd in the ear;
435 Nor ever silence, rest, or peace is here.
436 As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes,
437 The sinking stone at first a circle makes;
438 The trembling surface, by the motion stir'd,
439 Spreads in a second circle, then a third;
440 Wide, and more wide, the floating rings advance,
441 Fill all the wat'ry plain, and to the margin dance.
442 Thus ev'ry voice and sound, when first they break,
443 On neighb'ring air a soft impression make;
444 Another ambient circle then they move;
445 That, in its turn, impels the next above;
[Page 31]
446 Thro' undulating air the sounds are sent,
447 And spread o'er all the fluid element.
448 [Footnote: 1Kb] There various news I heard, of love and strife,
449 Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, and life,
450 Of loss and gain, of famine and of store,
451 Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore,
452 Of prodigies, and portents seen in air,
453 Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing hair,
454 Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,
455 The falls of fav'rites, projects of the great,
456 Of old mismanagements, taxations new:
457 All neither wholly false, nor wholly true.
458 [Footnote: 2Kb] Above, below, without, within, around,
459 Confus'd, unnumber'd multitudes are found,
[Page 32]
460 Who pass, repass, advance, and glide away;
461 Hosts rais'd by fear, and phantoms of a day:
462 Astrologers, that future fates foreshew,
463 Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few;
464 And priests, and party-zealots, num'rous bands
465 With home-born lyes, or tales from foreign lands;
466 Each talk'd aloud, or in some secret place,
467 And wild impatience star'd in ev'ry face.
468 The flying rumors gather'd as they roll'd,
469 Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
470 And all who told it, added something new,
471 And all who heard it, made enlargements too,
472 In ev'ry ear it spread, on ev'ry tongue it grew.
473 Thus flying east and west, and north and south,
474 News travell'd with encrease from mouth to mouth.
[Page 33]
475 So from a spark, that kindled first by chance,
476 With gath'ring force the quick'ning flames advance;
477 Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire,
478 And tow'rs and temples sink in floods of fire.
479 When thus ripe lyes are to perfection sprung,
480 Full grown, and sit to grace a mortal tongue,
481 Thro' thousand vents, impatient forth they flow,
482 And rush in millions on the world below.
483 Fame sits aloft, and points them out their course,
484 Their date determines, and prescribes their force:
485 Some to remain, and some to perish soon;
486 Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.
487 Around, a thousand winged wonders fly,
488 Born by the trumpet's blast, and scatter'd thro' the sky.
489 [Footnote: 1Kb] There, at one passage, oft' you might survey
490 A lye and truth contending for the way;
491 And long 'twas doubtful, both so closely pent,
492 Which first should issue thro' the narrow vent:
493 At last agreed, together out they fly,
494 Inseparable now, the truth and lye;
495 The strict companions are for ever join'd,
496 And this or that unmix'd, no mortal e'er shall find.
[Page 34]
497 [Footnote: 1Kb] While thus I stood, intent to see and hear,
498 One came, methought, and whisper'd in my ear:
499 What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
500 Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?
501 'Tis true, said I, not void of hopes I came,
502 For who so fond as youthful bards of Fame?
503 But few, alas! the casual blessing boast,
504 So hard to gain, so easy to be lost.
505 How vain that second life in others breath,
506 Th'estate which wits inherit after death!
507 Ease, health, and life, for this they must resign,
508 (Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!)
509 The great man's curse, without the gains, endure,
510 Be envy'd, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor;
511 All luckless wits their enemies profest,
512 And all successful, jealous friends at best.
513 Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
514 She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
515 But if the purchase costs so dear a price,
516 As soothing Folly, or exalting Vice:
517 Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway,
518 And follow still where fortune leads the way;
[Page 35]
519 Or if no basis bear my rising name,
520 But the fall'n ruins of another's fame:
521 Then teach me, heav'n! to scorn the guilty bays,
522 Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise,
523 Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown;
524 Oh grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
[Page 37]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: SAPHO TO PHAON.
From OVID. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 39]
1 Say, lovely youth, that do'st my heart command,
2 Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sapho's hand?
3 Must then her Name the wretched writer prove,
4 To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love?
5 Ask not the cause that I new numbers chuse,
6 The Lute neglected, and the Lyric muse;
7 Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow,
8 And tun'd my heart to Elegies of woe.
[Page 40]
9 I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn
10 By driving winds the spreading flames are born!
11 Phaon to Ætna's scorching fields retires,
12 While I consume with more than Ætna's fires!
13 No more my soul a charm in music finds,
14 Music has charms alone for peaceful minds.
15 Soft scenes of solitude no more can please,
16 Love enters there, and I'm my own disease.
17 No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
18 Once the dear objects of my guilty love;
19 All other loves are lost in only thine,
20 Ah youth ungrateful to a flame like mine!
21 Whom would not all those blooming charms surprize,
22 Those heav'nly looks, and dear, deluding eyes?
[Page 41]
23 The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear,
24 A brighter Phoebus, Phaon might appear;
25 Would you with ivy wreath your flowing hair,
26 Not Bacchus' self with Phaon could compare:
27 Yet Phoebus lov'd, and Bacchus felt the flame,
28 One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan dame,
29 Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me,
30 Than ev'n those Gods contend in charms with thee.
31 The Muses teach me all their softest lays,
32 And the wide world resounds with Sapho's praise.
33 Tho' great Alcæus more sublimely sings,
34 And strikes with bolder rage the sounding strings,
35 No less renown attends the moving lyre,
36 Which Venus tunes, and all her loves inspire.
37 To me what nature has in charms deny'd,
38 Is well by wit's more lasting charms supply'd.
39 Tho' short my stature, yet my name extends
40 To heav'n itself, and earth's remotest ends.
[Page 42]
41 Brown as I am, an Æthiopian dame
42 Inspir'd young Perseus with a gen'rous flame.
43 Turtles and doves of diff'ring hues, unite,
44 And glossy jett is pair'd with shining white.
45 If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,
46 But such as merit, such as equal thine,
47 By none alas! by none thou can'st be mov'd,
48 Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov'd!
49 Yet once thy Sapho could thy cares employ,
50 Once in her arms you center'd all your joy:
51 Still all those joys to my remembrance move,
52 For oh! how vast a memory has Love?
53 My music, then, you could for ever hear,
54 And all my words were music to your ear.
55 You stop'd with kisses my inchanting tongue,
56 And found my kisses sweeter than my song.
57 In all I pleas'd, but most in what was best;
58 And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
[Page 43]
59 Then with each word, each glance, each motion fir'd,
60 You still enjoy'd, and yet you still desir'd,
61 Till all dissolving in the trance we lay,
62 And in tumultuous raptures dy'd away.
63 The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame;
64 Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian dame?
65 But ah beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
66 That wandring heart which I so lately lost;
67 Nor be with all those tempting words abus'd,
68 Those tempting words were all to Sapho us'd.
69 And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
70 Have pity, Venus, on your Poet's pains!
71 Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
72 And still increase the woes so soon begun?
[Page 44]
73 Enur'd to sorrows from my tender years,
74 My parent's ashes drank my early tears:
75 My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
76 Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame:
77 An infant daughter late my griefs increas'd,
78 And all a mother's cares distract my breast.
79 Alas, what more could fate itself impose,
80 But thee, the last and greatest of my woes?
81 No more my robes in waving purple flow,
82 Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow;
83 No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse
84 The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
85 Nor braids of gold the vary'd tresses bind,
86 That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:
[Page 45]
87 For whom should Sapho use such arts as these?
88 He's gone, whom only she desir'd to please!
89 Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move,
90 Still is there cause for Sapho still to love:
91 So from my birth the Sisters fix'd my doom,
92 And gave to Venus all my life to come;
93 Or while my Muse in melting notes complains,
94 My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains.
95 By charms like thine which all my soul have won,
96 Who might not---ah! who would not be undone?
97 For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,
98 And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn.
99 For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep,
100 And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep.
[Page 46]
101 Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies,
102 But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes.
103 O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
104 O useful time for lovers to employ!
105 Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
106 Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!
107 The vows you never will return, receive;
108 And take at least the love you will not give.
109 See, while I write, my words are lost in tears;
110 The less my sense, the more my love appears.
111 Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind adieu,
112 (At least to feign was never hard to you)
113 Farewel my Lesbian love, you might have said,
114 Or coldly thus, farewel oh Lesbian maid!
115 No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,
116 Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
[Page 47]
117 No lover's gift your Sapho could confer,
118 And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.
119 No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,
120 But this; be mindful of our loves, and live.
121 Now by the Nine, those pow'rs ador'd by me,
122 And Love, the God that ever waits on thee,
123 When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)
124 That you were fled, and all my joys with you,
125 Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood,
126 Grief chill'd my breast, and stop'd my freezing blood,
127 No sigh to rise, no tear had pow'r to flow,
128 Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe:
129 But when its way th'impetuous passion found,
130 I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound,
131 I rave, then weep, I curse, and then complain,
132 Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.
[Page 48]
133 Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,
134 Whose first-born infant feeds the fun'ral flame.
135 My scornful brother with a smile appears,
136 Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears,
137 His hated image ever haunts my eyes,
138 And why this grief? thy daughter lives, he cries.
139 Stung with my love, and furious with despair,
140 All torn my garments, and my bosom bare,
141 My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim;
142 Such inconsistent things are love and shame!
143 'Tis thou art all my care and my delight,
144 My daily longing, and my dream by night:
145 Oh night more pleasing than the brightest day,
146 When fancy gives what absence takes away,
147 And dress'd in all its visionary charms,
148 Restores my fair deserter to my arms!
[Page 49]
149 Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine,
150 Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine:
151 A thousand tender words, I hear and speak;
152 A thousand melting kisses, give, and take:
153 Then fiercer joys---I blush to mention these,
154 Yet while I blush, confess how much they please.
155 But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,
156 And all things wake to life and joy, but I,
157 As if once more forsaken, I complain,
158 And close my eyes, to dream of you again:
159 Then frantic rise, and like some Fury rove
160 Thro' lonely plains, and thro' the silent grove,
161 As if the silent grove, and lonely plains
162 That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
[Page 50]
163 I view the Grotto, once the scene of love,
164 The rocks around, the hanging roofs above,
165 That charm'd me more, with native moss o'ergrown,
166 Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone.
167 I find the shades that veil'd our joys before,
168 But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more.
169 Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray
170 Where oft' entwin'd in am'rous folds we lay;
171 I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you,
172 And all with tears the with'ring herbs bedew.
173 For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
174 And birds defer their songs till thy return:
175 Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie,
176 All, but the mournful Philomel and I:
[Page 51]
177 With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
178 Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.
179 A spring there is, whose silver waters show
180 Clear as a glass, the shining sands below;
181 A flow'ry Lotos spreads its arms above,
182 Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
183 Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,
184 Watch'd by the sylvan Genius of the place.
185 Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood,
186 Before my sight a wat'ry Virgin stood,
187 She stood and cry'd, "O you that love in vain!
188 "Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main;
189 "There stands a rock from whose impending steep
190 "Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep;
191 "There injur'd lovers leaping from above,
192 "Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.
[Page 52]
193 "Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd,
194 "In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd;
195 "But when from hence he plung'd into the main,
196 "Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain.
197 "Haste Sapho, haste, from high Leucadia throw
198 "Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!
199 She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice---I rise,
200 And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes.
201 I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove;
202 How much I fear, but ah, how much I love!
203 I go, ye nymphs! where furious love inspires;
204 Let female fears submit to female fires.
205 To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate,
206 And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate.
207 Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
208 And softly lay me on the waves below!
[Page 53]
209 And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain,
210 Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main,
211 Nor let a Lover's death the guiltless flood profane!
212 On Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow,
213 And this inscription shall be plac'd below.
214 "Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,
215 "Sapho to Phoebus consecrates her Lyre;
216 "What suits with Sapho, Phoebus, suits with thee;
217 "The gift, the giver, and the God agree.
218 But why, alas, relentless youth, ah why
219 To distant seas must tender Sapho fly?
220 Thy charms than those may far more pow'rful be,
221 And Phoebus' self is less a God to me.
222 Ah! can'st thou doom me to the rocks and sea,
223 O far more faithless and more hard than they?
[Page 54]
224 Ah! can'st thou rather see this tender breast
225 Dash'd on those rocks, than to thy bosom prest?
226 This breast which once, in vain! you lik'd so well;
227 Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses dwell.
228 Alas! the Muses now no more inspire,
229 Untun'd my lute, and silent is my lyre,
230 My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
231 And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.
232 Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
233 Themes of my verse, and objects of my flames,
234 No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring,
235 No more these hands shall touch the trembling string:
236 My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign,
237 (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
[Page 55]
238 Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
239 Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:
240 Absent from thee, the Poet's flame expires,
241 But ah! how fiercely burn the Lover's fires?
242 Gods! can no pray'rs, no sighs, no numbers move
243 One savage heart, or teach it how to love?
244 The winds my pray'rs, my sighs, my numbers bear,
245 The flying winds have lost them all in air!
246 Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
247 To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails?
248 If you return---ah why these long delays?
249 Poor Sapho dies, while careless Phaon stays.
250 O launch thy bark, nor fear the watry plain;
251 Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
252 O launch thy bark, secure of prosp'rous gales;
253 Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.
[Page 56]
254 If you will fly---(yet ah! what cause can be,
255 Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)
256 If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,
257 Ah let me seek it from the raging seas:
258 To raging seas unpity'd I'll remove,
259 And either cease to live, or cease to love!
[Page 57]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: VERTUMNUS AND POMONA:
From the Fourteenth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 59]
1 The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
2 Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,
3 None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
4 Or more improv'd the vegetable care.
5 To her the shady grove, the flow'ry field,
6 The streams and fountains, no delights could yield;
7 'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
8 And see the boughs with happy burthens bend.
[Page 60]
9 The hook she bore, instead of Cynthia's spear,
10 To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,
11 To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,
12 And teach th'obedient branches where to spring.
13 Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives,
14 And yields an offspring more than nature gives;
15 Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
16 And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
17 These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
18 Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
19 Her private orchards, wall'd on ev'ry side,
20 To lawless sylvans all access deny'd.
21 How oft' the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns,
22 Who haunt the forests, or frequent the lawns,
23 The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
24 And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
[Page 61]
25 Employ'd their wiles, and unavailing care,
26 To pass the fences, and surprize the fair?
27 Like these, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame,
28 Like these, rejected by the scornful dame.
29 To gain her sight, a thousand forms he wears,
30 And first a reaper from the field appears,
31 Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
32 O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain.
33 Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
34 And wreaths of hay his sun-burnt temples shade:
35 Oft' in his harden'd hand a goad he bears,
36 Like one who late unyok'd the sweating steers.
37 Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
38 And the loose straglers to their ranks confines.
39 Now gath'ring what the bounteous year allows,
40 He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.
[Page 62]
41 A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
42 A fisher next, his trembling angle bears;
43 Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
44 On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
45 A female form at last Vertumnus wears,
46 With all the marks of rev'rend age appears,
47 His temples thinly spread with silver hairs;
48 Prop'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
49 A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows.
50 The God, in this decrepit form array'd,
51 The gardens enter'd, and the fruits survey'd,
52 And "Happy you! (he thus address'd the maid)
53 "Whose charms as far all other nymphs out-shine,
54 "As other gardens are excell'd by thine!
55 Then kiss'd the fair; (his kisses warmer grow
56 Than such as women on their sex bestow.)
57 Then plac'd beside her on the flow'ry ground,
58 Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd.
[Page 63]
59 An Elm was near, to whose embraces led,
60 The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:
61 He view'd their twining branches with delight,
62 And prais'd the beauty of the pleasing sight.
63 Yet this tall elm, but for his vine (he said)
64 Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
65 And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
66 Her marry'd elm, had crept along the ground.
67 Ah beauteous maid, let this example move
68 Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
69 Deign to be lov'd, and ev'ry heart subdue!
70 What nymph cou'd e'er attract such crouds as you?
71 Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaurs arms,
72 Ulysses' Queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.
[Page 64]
73 Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
74 A thousand court you, tho' they court in vain,
75 A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
76 That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
77 But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
78 Whom age, and long experience render wise,
79 And one whose tender care is far above
80 All that these lovers ever felt of love,
81 (Far more than e'er can by your self be guest)
82 Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.
83 For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
84 Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
85 To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
86 Like you, contented with his native groves;
87 Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;
88 For you he lives; and you alone shall share
89 His last affection, as his early care.
[Page 65]
90 Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
91 With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
92 Add, that he varies ev'ry shape with ease,
93 And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
94 But what should most excite a mutual flame,
95 Your rural cares, and pleasures, are the same:
96 To him your orchards early fruits are due,
97 (A pleasing off'ring when 'tis made by you)
98 He values these; but yet (alas) complains,
99 That still the best and dearest gift remains.
100 Not the fair fruit that on yon' branches glows
101 With that ripe red th'autumnal sun bestows;
102 Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
103 Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
104 You, only you, can move the God's desire:
105 Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire!
106 Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
107 Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind!
[Page 66]
108 So may no frost, when early buds appear,
109 Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
110 Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,
111 Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!
112 This when the various God had urg'd in vain,
113 He strait assum'd his native form again;
114 Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
115 As when thro' clouds th'emerging sun appears,
116 And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
117 Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
118 Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design;
119 For when, appearing in a form divine,
120 The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
121 Of charming features, and a youthful face;
122 In her soft breast consenting passions move,
123 And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.
[Page 67]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE FABLE OF DRYOPE:
From the Ninth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 69]
Upon occasion of the death of Hercules, his mother Alemena
recounts her misfortunes to Iole, who answers
with a relation of those of her own family, in particular
the transformation of her sister Dryope, which
is the subject of the ensuing Fable.
1 She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs,
2 When the fair Consort of her son replies.
3 Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan,
4 And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own;
[Page 70]
5 Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
6 A nearer woe, a Sister's stranger fate.
7 No Nymph of all Oechalia could compare
8 For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
9 Her tender mother's only hope and pride,
10 (My self the offspring of a second bride.)
11 This Nymph compress'd by him who rules the day,
12 Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
13 Andræmon lov'd; and bless'd in all those charms
14 That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms.
15 A lake there was, with shelving banks around,
16 Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd.
17 These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
18 And to the Naiads flow'ry garlands brought;
19 Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest
20 Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast.
[Page 71]
21 Not distant far, a watry Lotos grows,
22 The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs
23 Adorn'd with blossoms promis'd fruits that vie
24 In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye:
25 Of these she crop'd, to please her infant son,
26 And I my self the same rash act had done:
27 But lo! I saw, (as near her side I stood)
28 The violated blossoms drop with blood;
29 Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;
30 The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.
31 Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true)
32 As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew,
33 Forsook her form; and fixing here became
34 A flow'ry plant, which still preserves her name.
35 This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight
36 My trembling sister strove to urge her flight,
37 And first the pardon of the nymphs implor'd,
38 And those offended sylvan pow'rs ador'd:
[Page 72]
39 But when she backward wou'd have fled, she found
40 Her stiff'ning feet were rooted in the ground:
41 In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove,
42 And as she struggles, only moves above;
43 She feels th'encroaching bark around her grow
44 By quick degrees, and cover all below:
45 Surpriz'd at this, her trembling hand she heaves
46 To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves;
47 Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen
48 To rise, and shade her with a sudden green.
49 The child Amphisus, to her bosom prest,
50 Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breast,
51 And found the springs that ne'er till then deny'd
52 Their milky moisture, on a sudden dry'd.
53 I saw, unhappy! what I now relate,
54 And stood the helpless witness of thy fate,
55 Embrac'd thy boughs, the rising bark delay'd,
56 There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
[Page 73]
57 Behold Andræmon and th'unhappy Sire
58 Appear, and for their Dryope enquire;
59 A springing tree for Dryope they find,
60 A print warm kisses on the panting rind,
61 Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,
62 And close embrace, as to the roots they grew.
63 The face was all that now remain'd of thee,
64 No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
65 Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
66 From ev'ry leaf distills a trickling tear,
67 And strait a voice, while yet a voice remains,
68 Thus thro' the trembling boughs in sighs complains.
69 If to the wretched any faith be giv'n,
70 I swear by all th'unpitying pow'rs of heav'n,
71 No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
72 In mutual innocence our lives we led:
[Page 74]
73 If this be false, let these new greens decay,
74 Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,
75 And crackling flames on all my honours prey.
76 But from my branching arms this infant bear,
77 Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care:
78 And to his mother let him oft' be led,
79 Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed;
80 Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame
81 Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name,
82 To hail this tree; and say, with weeping eyes,
83 Within this plant my hapless parent lies:
84 And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
85 Oh, let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
86 Nor touch the fatal flow'rs; but, warn'd by me,
87 Believe a Goddess shrin'd in ev'ry tree.
88 My sire, my sister, and my spouse farewell!
89 If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,
90 Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel
91 The browzing cattel or the piercing steel.
[Page 75]
92 Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join
93 My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
94 My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,
95 While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.
96 I can no more; the creeping rind invades
97 My closing lips, and hides my head in shades:
98 Remove your hands, the bark shall soon suffice
99 Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.
100 She ceas'd at once to speak, and ceas'd to be;
101 And all the nymph was lost within the Tree:
102 Yet latent life thro' her new branches reign'd,
103 And long the plant a human heat retain'd.
[Page 77]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS HIS THEBAIS.
Translated in the Year 1703.
[from The Works (1736)]
[Page 78]
ARGUMENT.
Oedipus King of Thebes having by mistake slain his
father Laius, and marry'd his mother Jocasta,
put out his own eyes, and resign'd the realm to his sons
Etheocles 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 obtain'd
by Etheocles. 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 Etheocles, and provoke him to break the
agreement. Polynices in the mean time 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 kill'd his brother. Adrastus entertains
them, having receiv'd an oracle from Apollo
that his daughters should be marry'd to a Boar and a
Lion, which he understands to be meant of these strangers
by whom the hides of those beasts were worn, and
who arriv'd 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 Choræbus. He enquires, and is made
acquainted with their descent and quality: The sacrifice
is renew'd, and the book concludes with a Hymn
to Apollo.
The Translator hopes he needs not apologize for his
Choice of this piece, which was made almost in his
Childhood. But finding the Version better than he expected,
he gave it some Correction a few years afterwards.
[Page 79]
1 Fraternal Rage, the guilty Thebes alarms,
2 Th'alternate reign destroy'd by impious arms,
3 Demand our song; a sacred fury fires
4 My ravish'd breast, and all the Muse inspires.
5 O Goddess, say, shall I deduce my rhimes
6 From the dire nation in its early times,
7 Europa's rape, Agenor's stern decree,
8 And Cadmus searching round the spacious sea?
[Page 80]
9 How with the serpent's teeth he sow'd the soil,
10 And reap'd an Iron harvest of his toil?
11 Or how from joining stones the city sprung,
12 While to his harp divine Amphion sung?
13 Or shall I Juno's hate to Thebes resound,
14 Whose fatal rage th'unhappy Monarch found;
15 The sire against the son his arrows drew,
16 O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew,
17 And while her arms her second hope contain,
18 Sprung from the rocks and plung'd into the main.
19 But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong,
20 And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song
21 At Oedipus---from his disasters trace
22 The long confusions of his guilty race.
23 Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder wing,
24 And mighty Cæsar's conqu'ring eagles sing;
[Page 81]
25 How twice he tam'd proud Ister's rapid flood,
26 While Dacian mountains stream'd with barb'rous blood,
27 Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll,
28 And stretch'd his empire to the frozen Pole,
29 Or long before, with early valour strove
30 In youthful arms t'assert the cause of Jove.
31 And Thou, great Heir of all thy father's fame,
32 Encrease of glory to the Latian name!
33 Oh bless thy Rome with an eternal reign,
34 Nor let desiring worlds intreat in vain.
35 What tho' the stars contract their heav'nly space,
36 And croud their shining ranks to yield thee place;
37 Tho' all the skies, ambitious of thy sway,
38 Conspire to court thee from our world away;
39 Tho' Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine,
40 And in thy glories more serenely shine;
41 Tho' Jove himself no less content would be,
42 To part his throne and share his heav'n with thee;
[Page 82]
43 Yet stay, great Cæsar! and vouchsafe to reign
44 O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watry main;
45 Resign to Jove his empire of the skies,
46 And people heav'n with Roman Deities.
47 The time will come, when a diviner flame
48 Shall warm my breast to sing of Cæsar's fame:
49 Meanwhile permit, that my preluding Muse
50 In Theban wars an humbler theme may chuse:
51 Of furious hate surviving death, she sings,
52 A fatal throne to two contending Kings,
53 A fun'ral flames, that parting wide in air
54 Express the discord of the souls they bear:
55 Of towns dispeopled, and the wand'ring ghosts
56 Of Kings unbury'd on the wasted coasts;
57 When Dirce's fountain blush'd with Grecian blood,
58 And Thetis, near Ismenos' swelling flood,
59 With dread beheld the rolling surges sweep
60 In heaps, his slaughter'd sons into the deep.
[Page 83]
61 What Hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate?
62 The Rage of Tydeus, or the Prophet's fate?
63 Or how with hills of slain on ev'ry side,
64 Hippomedon repell'd the hostile tyde?
65 Or how the [Footnote: 1Kb] Youth with ev'ry grace adorn'd,
66 Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd?
67 Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend,
68 And sing, with horror, his prodigious end.
69 Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of sight,
70 Led a long death in everlasting night;
71 But while he dwells where not a chearful ray
72 Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day;
73 The clear, reflecting mind, presents his sin
74 In frightful views, and makes it day within;
75 Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
76 And thousand furies haunt his guilty soul.
[Page 84]
77 The wretch then lifted to th'unpitying skies
78 Those empty orbs from whence he tore his eyes,
79 Whose wounds yet fresh, with bloody hands he strook,
80 While from his breast these dreadful accents broke.
81 Ye Gods that o'er the gloomy regions reign
82 Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain;
83 Thou, sable Styx! whose livid streams are roll'd
84 Thro' dreary coasts, which I tho' blind behold:
85 Tisiphone, that oft' hast heard my pray'r,
86 Assist, if Oedipus deserve thy care!
87 If you receiv'd me from Jocasta's womb,
88 And nurs'd the hope of mischiefs yet to come:
89 If leaving Polybus, I took my way
90 To Cyrrha's temple, on that fatal day,
91 When by the son the trembling father dy'd,
92 Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide:
[Page 85]
93 If I the Sphynx's riddles durst explain,
94 Taught by thy self to win the promis'd reign:
95 If wretched I, by baleful furies led,
96 With monstrous mixture stain'd my mother's bed,
97 For hell and thee begot an impious brood,
98 And with full lust those horrid joys renew'd:
99 Then self-condemn'd to shades of endless night,
100 Forc'd from these orbs the bleeding balls of sight.
101 Oh hear, and aid the vengeance I require,
102 If worthy thee, and what thou might'st inspire!
103 My sons their old, unhappy sire despise,
104 Spoil'd of his kingdom, and depriv'd of eyes;
105 Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn,
106 While these exalt their sceptres o'er my urn,
107 These sons, ye Gods! who with flagitious pride,
108 Insult my darkness, and my groans deride.
[Page 86]
109 Art thou a Father, unregarding Jove!
110 And sleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
111 Thou Fury, then, some lasting curse entail,
112 Which o'er their childrens children shall prevail:
113 Place on their heads that crown distain'd with gore,
114 Which these dire hands from my slain father tore;
115 Go, and a parent's heavy curses bear;
116 Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
117 Their kindred souls to mutual hate and war.
118 Give them to dare, what I might wish to see
119 Blind as I am, some glorious villany!
120 Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
121 Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
122 Could'st thou some great, proportion'd mischief frame,
123 They'd prove the father from whose loins they came.
124 The Fury heard, while on Cacytus' brink
125 Her snakes unty'd, sulphureous waters drink;
[Page 87]
126 But at the summons, roll'd her eyes around,
127 And snatch'd the starting serpents from the ground.
128 Not half so swiftly shoots along in air,
129 The gliding light'ning, or descending star.
130 Thro' crouds of airy shades she wing'd her flight,
131 And dark dominions of the silent night;
132 Swift as she pass'd, the flitting ghosts withdrew,
133 And the pale spectres trembled at her view:
134 To th'iron gates of Tenarus she flies,
135 There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies.
136 The day beheld, and sickning at the sight,
137 Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of night.
138 Affrighted Atlas, on the distant shore,
139 Trembl'd, and shook the heav'ns and gods he bore.
140 Now from beneath Malea's airy height
141 Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight;
[Page 88]
142 With eager speed the well-known journey took,
143 Nor here regrets the hell she late forsook.
144 A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade,
145 A hundred serpents guard her horrid head,
146 In her sunk eye-balls dreadful meteors glow,
147 Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow,
148 When lab'ring with strong charms, she shoots from high
149 A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.
150 Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came
151 Blue steaming poisons, and a length of flame;
152 From ev'ry blast of her contagious breath,
153 Famine and drought proceed, and plagues, and death:
154 A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown,
155 A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone:
156 She toss'd her meagre arms; her better hand
157 In waving circles whirl'd a fun'ral brand;
158 A serpent from her left was seen to rear
159 His flaming crest, and lash the yielding air.
[Page 89]
160 But when the Fury took her stand on high,
161 Where vast Cythæron's top salutes the sky,
162 A hiss from all the snaky tire went round:
163 The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound,
164 And thro' th'Achaian cities send the sound.
165 Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the voice;
166 Eurota's banks remurmur'd to the noise;
167 Again Leucothoë shook at these alarms,
168 And press'd Palæmon closer in her arms.
169 Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs,
170 And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings,
171 Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds
172 Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds.
173 Strait with the [Footnote: 1Kb] rage of all their race possess'd,
174 Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest,
175 And all the furies wake within their breast.
[Page 90]
176 Their tortur'd minds repining Envy tears,
177 And Hate, engender'd by suspicious fears;
178 And sacred Thirst of sway; and all the ties
179 Of Nature broke; and royal Perjuries;
180 And impotent Desire to reign alone,
181 That scorns the dull reversion of a throne;
182 Each would the sweets of sovereign rule devour,
183 While Discord waits upon divided pow'r.
184 As stubborn steers by brawny plowmen broke,
185 And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke,
186 Alike disdain with servile necks to bear
187 Th'unwonted weight, or drag the crooked share,
188 But rend the reins, and bound a diff'rent way,
189 And all the furrows in confusion lay:
190 Such was the discord of the royal pair,
191 Whom fury drove precipitate to war.
[Page 91]
192 In vain the chiefs contriv'd a specious way,
193 To govern Thebes by their alternate sway;
194 Unjust decree! while this enjoys the state,
195 That mourns in exile his unequal fate,
196 And the short monarch of a hasty year
197 Foresees with anguish his returning heir.
198 Thus did the league their impious arms restrain,
199 But scarce subsisted to the second reign.
200 Yet then, no proud aspiring piles were rais'd,
201 No fretted roofs with polish'd metals blaz'd,
202 No labour'd columns in long order plac'd,
203 No Grecian stone the pompous arches grac'd;
204 No nightly bands in glitt'ring armour wait
205 Before the sleepless Tyrant's guarded gate:
206 No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd gold,
207 Nor silver vases took the forming mold,
208 Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to shine,
209 Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine---
[Page 92]
210 Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage?
211 Say to what end your impious arms engage?
212 Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn,
213 Or when his evening beams the west adorn,
214 When the south glows with his meridian ray,
215 And the cold north receives a fainter day;
216 For crimes like these, not all those realms suffice,
217 Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize!
218 But fortune now (the lots of empire thrown)
219 Decrees to proud Etheocles the crown:
220 What joys, oh Tyrant! swell'd thy soul that day,
221 When all were slaves thou could'st around survey,
[Page 93]
222 Pleas'd to behold unbounded pow'r thy own,
223 And singly fill a fear'd and envy'd throne!
224 But the vile Vulgar, ever discontent,
225 Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent;
226 Still prone to change, tho' still the slaves of state,
227 And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate;
228 New lords they madly make, then tamely bear,
229 And softly curse the Tyrants whom they fear.
230 And one of those who groan beneath the sway
231 Of Kings impos'd, and grudgingly obey,
232 (Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spight
233 With scandal arm'd, th'ignoble mind's delight,)
234 Exclaim'd---O Thebes! for thee what fates remain,
235 What woes attend this inauspicious reign?
236 Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare,
237 Each haughty master's yoke by turns to bear,
238 And still to change whom chang'd we still must fear?
239 These now controul a wretched people's fate,
240 These can divide, and these reverse the state:
[Page 94]
241 Ev'n Fortune rules no more:---O servile land,
242 Where exil'd tyrants still by turns command!
243 Thou Sire of Gods and men, imperial Jove!
244 Is this th'eternal doom decreed above?
245 On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this fate,
246 From the first birth of our unhappy state;
247 When banish'd Cadmus wand'ring o'er the main,
248 For lost Europa search'd the world in vain,
249 And fated in Boeotian fields to found
250 A rising empire on a foreign ground,
251 First rais'd our walls on that ill-omen'd plain,
252 Where earth-born brothers were by brothers slain?
253 What lofty looks th'unrival'd monarch bears!
254 How all the tyrant in his face appears!
255 What sullen fury clouds his scornful brow!
256 Gods! how his eyes with threatning ardour glow!
[Page 95]
257 Can this imperious lord forget to reign,
258 Quit all his state, descend, and serve again?
259 Yet, who, before, more popularly bow'd,
260 Who more propitious to the suppliant croud,
261 Patient of right, familiar in the throne?
262 What wonder then? he was not then alone.
263 Oh wretched we, a vile, submissive train,
264 Fortune's tame fools, and slaves in ev'ry reign!
265 As when two winds with rival force contend,
266 This way and that, the wav'ring sails they bend,
267 While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow,
268 Now here, now there, the reeling vessel throw:
269 Thus on each side, alas! our tott'ring state
270 Feels all the fury of resistless fate,
271 And doubtful still, and still distracted stands,
272 While that Prince threatens, and while this commands.
273 And now th'almighty Father of the Gods
274 Convenes a council in the blest abodes:
[Page 96]
275 Far in the bright recesses of the skies,
276 High o'er the rowling heav'ns, a mansion lies,
277 Whence, far below, the Gods at once survey
278 The realms of rising and declining day,
279 And all th'extended space of earth, and air, and sea.
280 Full in the midst, and on a starry throne,
281 The Majesty of heav'n superior shone;
282 Serene he look'd, and gave an awful [Footnote: 1Kb] nod.
283 And all the trembling spheres confess'd the God.
284 At Jove's assent, the deities around
285 In solemn state the consistory crown'd:
286 Next a long order of inferior pow'rs
287 Ascend from hills, and plains, and shady bow'rs;
288 Those from whose urns the rowling rivers flow;
289 And those that give the wand'ring winds to blow;
[Page 97]
290 Here all their rage, and ev'n their murmurs cease,
291 And sacred silence reigns, and universal peace.
292 A shining synod of majestic Gods
293 Gilds with new lustre the divine abodes,
294 Heav'n seems improv'd with a superior ray,
295 And the bright arch reflects a double day.
296 The Monarch then his solemn silence broke,
297 The still creation listen'd while he spoke,
298 Each sacred accent bears eternal weight,
299 And each irrevocable word is Fate.
300 How long shall man the wrath of heav'n defy,
301 And force unwilling vengeance from the sky!
302 Oh race confed'rate into crimes, that prove
303 Triumphant o'er th'eluded rage of Jove!
304 This weary'd arm can scarce the bolt sustain,
305 And unregarded thunder rolls in vain:
306 Th'o'erlabour'd Cyclop from his task retires;
307 Th'Æolian forge exhausted of its fires.
[Page 98]
308 For this, I suffer'd Phoebus' steeds to stray,
309 And the mad ruler to misguide the day,
310 When the wide earth to heaps of ashes turn'd,
311 And heav'n itself the wand'ring chariot burn'd.
312 For this, my brother of the wat'ry reign
313 Releas'd th'impetuous sluices of the main:
314 But flames consum'd, and billows rag'd in vain.
315 Two races now, ally'd to Jove, offend;
316 To punish these, see Jove himself descend!
317 The Theban Kings their line from Cadmus trace,
318 From godlike Perseus those of Argive race.
319 Unhappy Cadmus' fate who does not know?
320 And the long series of succeeding woe:
321 How oft' the Furies, from the deeps of night,
322 Arose, and mix'd with men in mortal fight:
323 Th'exulting mother, stain'd with filial blood;
324 The savage hunter, and the haunted wood;
[Page 99]
325 The direful banquet why should I proclaim,
326 And crimes that grieve the trembling Gods to name?
327 E'er I recount the sins of these profane,
328 The sun would sink into the western main,
329 And rising gild the radiant east again.
330 Have we not seen (the blood of Laius shed)
331 The murd'ring son ascend his parent's bed,
332 Thro' violated nature force his way,
333 And stain the sacred womb where once he lay?
334 Yet now in darkness and despair he groans,
335 And for the crimes of guilty fate attones;
336 His sons with scorn their eyeless father view,
337 Insult his wounds, and make them bleed anew.
338 Thy curse, oh Oedipus, just heav'n alarms,
339 And sets th'avenging thunderer in arms.
340 I from the root thy guilty race will tear,
341 And give the nations to the waste of war.
[Page 100]
342 Adrastus soon, with Gods averse, shall join,
343 In dire alliance with the Theban line;
344 Hence strife shall rise, and mortal war succeed;
345 The guilty realms of Tantalus shall bleed;
346 Fix'd is their doom; this all-remembring breast
347 Yet harbours vengeance for the tyrant's feast.
348 He said; and thus the Queen of heav'n return'd;
349 (With sudden grief her lab'ring bosom burn'd)
350 Must I whose cares Phoroneus' tow'rs defend,
351 Must I, oh Jove, in bloody wars contend?
352 Thou know'st those regions my protection claim,
353 Glorious in arms, in riches, and in fame:
354 Tho' there the fair Ægyptian heifer fed,
355 And there deluded Argus slept, and bled;
356 Tho' there the braz'n tow'r was storm'd of old,
357 When Jove descended in almighty gold.
[Page 101]
358 Yet I can pardon those obscurer rapes,
359 Those bashful crimes disguis'd in borrow'd shapes;
360 But Thebes, where shining in coelestial charms:
361 Thou cam'st triumphant to a mortal's arms,
362 When all my glories o'er her limbs were spread,
363 And blazing light'nings danc'd around her bed;
364 Curs'd Thebes the vengeance it deserves, may prove---
365 Ah why shou'd Argos feel the rage of Jove?
366 Yet since thou wilt thy sister-Queen controul,
367 Since still the lust of discord fires thy soul,
368 Go, rase my Samos, let Mycenè fall,
369 And level with the dust the Spartan wall;
370 No more let mortals Juno's pow'r invoke,
371 Her fanes no more with eastern incense smoke,
372 Nor victims sink beneath the sacred stroke;
373 But to your Isis all my rites transfer,
374 Let altars blaze and temples smoke for her;
375 For her, thro' Ægypt's fruitful clime renown'd,
376 Let weeping Nilus hear the timbrel sound.
[Page 102]
377 But if thou must reform the stubborn times,
378 Avenging on the sons the father's crimes,
379 And from the long records of distant age
380 Derive incitements to renew thy rage;
381 Say, from what period then has Jove design'd
382 To date his vengeance; to what bounds confin'd?
383 Begin from thence, where first Alphëus hides
384 His wand'ring stream, and thro' the briny tides
385 Unmix'd, to his Sicilian river glides.
386 Thy own Arcadians there the thunder claim,
387 Whose impious rites disgrace thy mighty name;
388 Who raise thy temples where the chariot stood
389 Of fierce Oenomäus, defil'd with blood;
390 Where once his steeds their savage banquet found,
391 And human bones yet whiten all the ground.
392 Say, can those honours please? and can'st thou love
393 Presumptuous Crete, that boasts the tomb of Jove?
[Page 103]
394 And shall not Tantalus his kingdoms share
395 Thy wife and sister's tutelary care?
396 Reverse, O Jove, thy too severe decree,
397 Nor doom to war a race deriv'd from thee;
398 On impious realms, and barb'rous Kings, impose
399 Thy plagues, and curse 'em with such [Footnote: 1Kb] Sons as those.
400 Thus, in reproach and pray'r, the Queen express'd
401 The rage and grief contending in her breast;
402 Unmov'd remain'd the ruler of the sky,
403 And from his throne return'd this stern reply.
404 'Twas thus I deem'd thy haughty soul would bear
405 The dire, tho' just, revenge which I prepare
406 Against a nation thy peculiar care:
407 No less Dione might for Thebes contend,
408 Nor Bacchus less his native town defend,
409 Yet these in silence see the fates fulfil
410 Their work, and reverence our superior will.
[Page 104]
411 For by the black infernal Styx I swear,
412 (That dreadful oath which binds the Thunderer)
413 'Tis fix'd; th'irrevocable doom of Jove;
414 No force can bend me, no persuasion move.
415 Haste then, Cyllenius, thro' the liquid air;
416 Go mount the winds, and to the shades repair;
417 Bid hell's black monarch my commands obey,
418 And give up Laius to the realms of day,
419 Whose ghost yet shiv'ring on Cocytus' sand,
420 Expects its passage to the farther strand:
421 Let the pale sire revisit Thebes, and bear
422 These pleasing orders to the tyrant's ear;
423 That, from his exil'd brother, swell'd with pride
424 Of foreign forces, and his Argive bride,
425 Almighty Jove commands him to detain
426 The promis'd empire, and alternate reign:
[Page 105]
427 Be this the cause of more than mortal hate;
428 The rest, succeeding times shall ripen into Fate.
429 The God obeys, and to his feet applies
430 Those golden wings that cut the yielding skies;
431 His ample hat his beamy locks o'erspread,
432 And veil'd the starry glories of his head!
433 He seiz'd the wand that causes sleep to fly,
434 Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye;
435 That drives the dead to dark Tartarean coasts,
436 Or back to life compels the wond'ring ghosts.
437 Thus, thro' the parting clouds, the son of May
438 Wings on the whistling winds his rapid way,
439 Now smoothly steers thro' air his equal flight,
440 Now springs aloft, and tow'rs th'ethereal height;
441 Then wheeling down the steep of heav'n he flies,
442 And draws a radiant circle o'er the skies.
443 Meantime the banish'd Polynices roves
444 (His Thebes abandon'd) thro' th'Aonian groves,
[Page 106]
445 While future realms his wand'ring thoughts delight,
446 His daily vision and his dream by night;
447 Forbidden Thebes appears before his eye,
448 From whence he sees his absent brother fly,
449 With transport views the airy rule his own,
450 And swells on an imaginary throne.
451 Fain would he cast a tedious age away,
452 And live out all in one triumphant day.
453 He chides the lazy progress of the sun,
454 And bids the year with swifter motion run.
455 With anxious hopes his craving mind is tost,
456 And all his joys in length of wishes lost.
457 The hero then resolves his course to bend
458 Where ancient Danaus' fruitful fields extend,
459 And fam'd Mycene's lofty tow'rs ascend,
460 (Where late the sun did Atreus' crimes detest,
461 And disappear'd in horror of the feast.)
[Page 107]
462 And now by chance, by fate, or furies led,
463 From Bacchus' consecrated caves he fled,
464 Where the shrill cries of frantic matrons sound,
465 And Pentheus' blood enrich'd the rising ground.
466 Then sees Cythæron tow'ring o'er the plain,
467 And thence declining gently to the main.
468 Next to the bounds of Nisus' realm repairs,
469 Where treach'rous Scylla cut the purple hairs:
470 The hanging cliffs of Scyron's rock explores,
471 And hears the murmurs of the diff'rent shores:
472 Passes the strait that parts the foaming seas,
473 And stately Corinth's pleasing site surveys.
474 'Twas now the time when Phoebus yields to night,
475 And rising Cynthia sheds her silver light,
476 Wide o'er the world in solemn pomp she drew
477 Her airy chariot hung with pearly dew;
[Page 108]
478 All birds and beasts lie hush'd; sleep steals away
479 The wild desires of men, and toils of day,
480 And brings, descending thro' the silent air,
481 A sweet forgetfulness of human care.
482 Yet no red clouds, with golden borders gay,
483 Promise the skies the bright return of day;
484 No faint reflections of the distant light
485 Streak with long gleams the scatt'ring shades of night;
486 From the damp earth impervious vapours rise,
487 Encrease the darkness and involve the skies.
488 At once the rushing winds with roaring sound
489 Burst from th'Æolian caves, and rend the ground,
490 With equal rage their airy quarrel try,
491 And win by turns the kingdom of the sky:
492 But with a thicker night black Auster shrouds
493 The heav'ns, and drives on heaps the rolling clouds,
[Page 109]
494 From whose dark womb a ratling tempest pours,
495 Which the cold north congeals to haily show'rs.
496 From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud,
497 And broken lightnings flash from ev'ry cloud.
498 Now smoaks with show'rs the misty mountain-ground,
499 And floated fields lie undistinguish'd round:
500 Th'Inachian streams with headlong fury run,
501 And Erasinus rolls a deluge on:
502 The foaming Lerna swells above its bounds,
503 And spreads its ancient poisons o'er the grounds:
504 Where late was dust, now rapid torrents play,
505 Rush thro' the mounds, and bear the damms away:
506 Old limbs of trees from crackling forests torn,
507 Are whirl'd in air, and on the winds are born;
508 The storm the dark Lycæan groves display'd,
509 And first to light expos'd the sacred shade.
[Page 110]
510 Th'intrepid Theban hears the bursting sky,
511 Sees yawning rocks in massy fragments fly,
512 And views astonish'd from the hills afar,
513 The floods descending and the watry war,
514 That driv'n by storms, and pouring o'er the plain,
515 Swept herds, and hinds, and houses to the main.
516 Thro' the brown horrors of the night he fled,
517 Nor knows, amaz'd, what doubtful path to tread,
518 His brother's image to his mind appears,
519 Inflames his heart with rage, and wings his feet with fears.
520 So fares a sailor on the stormy main,
521 When clouds conceal Boötes' golden wain,
522 When not a star its friendly lustre keeps,
523 Nor trembling Cynthia glimmers on the deeps;
524 He dreads the rocks, and shoals, and seas, and skies,
525 While thunder roars, and light'ning round him flies.
[Page 111]
526 Thus strove the chief on ev'ry side distress'd,
527 Thus still his courage, with his toils encreas'd;
528 With his broad shield oppos'd, he forc'd his way
529 Thro' thickest woods, and rouz'd the beasts of prey.
530 Till he beheld, where from Larissa's height
531 The shelving walls reflect a glancing light:
532 Thither with haste the Theban hero flies;
533 On this side Lerna's pois'nous water lies,
534 On that, Prosymna's grove and temple rise:
535 He pass'd the gates which then unguarded lay,
536 And to the regal palace bent his way;
537 On the cold marble spent with toil he lies,
538 And waits till pleasing slumbers seal his eyes.
539 Adrastus here his happy people sways,
540 Bless'd with calm peace in his declining days,
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541 By both his parents of descent divine,
542 Great Jove and Phoebus grac'd his noble line;
543 Heav'n had not crown'd his wishes with a son,
544 But two fair daughters heir'd his state and throne.
545 To him Apollo (wondrous to relate!
546 But who can pierce into the depths of fate?)
547 Had sung---"Expect thy sons on Argos' shore,
548 "A yellow lion and a bristly boar.
549 This, long revolv'd in his paternal breast,
550 Sate heavy on his heart, and broke his rest;
551 This, great Amphiaraus, lay hid from thee,
552 Tho' skill'd in fate, and dark futurity.
553 The father's care and prophet's art were vain,
554 For thus did the predicting God ordain.
555 Lo hapless Tydeus, whose ill-fated hand
556 Had slain his brother, leaves his native land,
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557 And seiz'd with horror, in the shades of night,
558 Thro' the thick desarts headlong urg'd his flight:
559 Now by the fury of the tempests driv'n,
560 He seeks a shelter from th'inclement heav'n,
561 Till led by fate, the Theban's steps he treads,
562 And to fair Argos' open court succeeds.
563 When thus the chiefs from diff'rent lands resort
564 T'Adrastus' realms, and hospitable court;
565 The King surveys his guests with curious eyes,
566 And views their arms and habit with surprize.
567 A lion's yellow skin the Theban wears,
568 Horrid his mane, and rough with curling hairs;
569 Such once employ'd Alcides' youthful toils,
570 E'er yet adorn'd with Nemea's dreadful spoils.
571 A boar's stiff hide, of Calydonian breed,
572 Oenides' manly shoulders overspread,
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573 Oblique his tusks, erect his bristles stood,
574 Alive, the pride and terror of the wood.
575 Struck with the sight, and fix'd in deep amaze,
576 The King th'accomplish'd Oracle surveys,
577 Reveres Apollo's vocal caves, and owns
578 The guiding Godhead, and his future sons.
579 O'er all his bosom secret transports reign,
580 And a glad horror shoots thro' ev'ry vein.
581 To heav'n he lifts his hands, erects his sight,
582 And thus invokes the silent Queen of night.
583 Goddess of shades, beneath whose gloomy reign
584 Yon' spangled arch glows with the starry train:
585 You who the cares of heav'n and earth allay,
586 Till nature quickned by th'inspiring ray
587 Wakes to new vigour with the rising day.
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588 Oh thou who freest me from my doubtful state,
589 Long lost and wilder'd in the maze of Fate!
590 Be present still, oh Goddess! in our aid;
591 Proceed, and firm those omens thou hast made.
592 We to thy name our annual rites will pay,
593 And on thy altars sacrifices lay;
594 The sable flock shall fall beneath the stroke,
595 And fill thy temples with a grateful smoke.
596 Hail, faithful Tripos! hail, ye dark abodes
597 Of awful Phoebus: I confess the Gods!
598 Thus, seiz'd with sacred fear, the Monarch pray'd;
599 Then to his inner court the guests convey'd;
600 Where yet thin fumes from dying sparks arise,
601 And dust yet white upon each altar lies,
602 The relicks of a former sacrifice.
603 The King once more the solemn rites requires,
604 And bids renew the feasts, and wake the fires.
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605 His train obey, while all the courts around
606 With noisy care and various tumult sound.
607 Embroider'd purple clothes the golden beds;
608 This slave the floor, and that the table spreads;
609 A third dispels the darkness of the night,
610 And fills depending lamps with beams of light;
611 Here loaves in canisters are pile'd on high,
612 And there, in flames the slaughter'd victims fry.
613 Sublime in regal state, Adrastus shone,
614 Stretch'd on rich carpets, on his iv'ry throne;
615 A lofty couch receives each princely guest;
616 Around, at awful distance, wait the rest.
617 And now the King, his royal feast to grace,
618 Acestis calls, the guardian of his race,
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619 Who first their youth in arts of virtue train'd,
620 And their ripe years in modest grace maintain'd.
621 Then softly whisper'd in her faithful ear,
622 And bade his daughters at the rites appear.
623 When from the close apartments of the night,
624 The royal Nymphs approach divinely bright;
625 Such was Diana's, such Minerva's face;
626 Nor shine their beauties with superior grace,
627 But that in these a milder charm endears,
628 And less of terror in their looks appears.
629 As on the heroes first they cast their eyes,
630 O'er their fair cheeks the glowing blushes rise,
631 Their down-cast looks a decent shame confess'd,
632 Then, on their father's rev'rend features rest.
633 The banquet done, the Monarch gives the sign,
634 To fill the goblet high with sparkling wine,
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635 Which Danaus us'd in sacred rites of old,
636 With sculpture grac'd, and rough with rising gold.
637 Here to the clouds victorious Perseus flies;
638 Medusa seems to move her languid eyes,
639 And ev'n in gold, turns paler as she dies.
640 There from the chace Jove's tow'ring eagle bears
641 On golden wings, the Phrygian to the stars;
642 Still as he rises in th'æthereal height,
643 His native mountains lessen to his sight;
644 While all his sad companions upward gaze,
645 Fix'd on the glorious scene in wild amaze;
646 And the swift hounds, affrighted as he flies,
647 Run to the shade, and bark against the skies.
648 This golden bowl with gen'rous juice was crown'd,
649 The first libations sprinkled on the ground:
650 By turns on each celestial pow'r they call;
651 With Phoebus' name resounds the vaulted hall.
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652 The courtly train, the strangers, and the rest,
653 Crown'd with chaste laurel, and with garlands dress'd,
654 While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze
655 Salute the God in num'rous hymns of praise.
656 Then thus the King: Perhaps, my noble guests,
657 These honour'd altars, and these annual feasts
658 To bright Apollo's awful name design'd,
659 Unknown, with wonder may perplex your mind.
660 Great was the cause; our old solemnities
661 From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise;
662 But sav'd from death, our Argives yearly pay
663 These grateful honours to the God of Day.
664 When by a thousand darts the Python slain
665 With orbs unroll'd lay covering all the plain,
666 (Transfix'd as o'er Castalia's streams he hung,
667 And suck'd new poisons with his triple tongue)
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668 To Argos' realms the Victor god resorts,
669 And enters old Crotopus' humble courts.
670 This rural prince one only daughter blest,
671 That all the charms of blooming youth possess'd;
672 Fair was her face, and spotless was her mind,
673 Where filial love with virgin sweetness join'd.
674 Happy! and happy still she might have prov'd,
675 Were she less beautiful, or less belov'd!
676 But Phoebus lov'd, and on the flow'ry side
677 Of Nemea's stream, the yielding fair enjoy'd;
678 Now, e'er ten moons their orb with light adorn,
679 Th'illustrious offspring of the God was born.
680 The Nymph, her father's anger to evade,
681 Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade,
682 To woods and wilds the pleasing burden bears,
683 And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares.
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684 How mean a fate, unhappy child! is thine?
685 Ah how unworthy those of race divine?
686 On flow'ry herbs in some green covert laid,
687 His bed the ground, his canopy the shade,
688 He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries,
689 While the rude swain his rural music tries,
690 To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes.
691 Yet ev'n in those obscure abodes to live,
692 Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give,
693 For on the grassy verdure as he lay,
694 And breath'd the freshness of the early day,
695 Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore,
696 Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore.
697 Th'astonish'd mother, when the rumour came,
698 Forgets her father, and neglects her fame,
699 With loud complaints she fills the yielding air,
700 And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair;
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701 Then wild with anguish to her Sire she flies:
702 Demands the sentence, and contented dies.
703 But touch'd with sorrow for the dead, too late,
704 The raging God prepares t'avenge her fate.
705 He sends a monster, horrible and fell,
706 Begot by furies in the depths of hell.
707 The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears;
708 High on her crown a rising snake appears,
709 Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs:
710 About the realm she walks her dreadful round,
711 When night with sable wings o'erspreads the ground,
712 Devours young babes before their parents eyes,
713 And feeds and thrives on publick miseries.
714 But gen'rous rage the bold Choroebus warms,
715 Choroebus, fam'd for virtue, as for arms;
716 Some few like him, inspir'd with martial flame,
717 Thought a short life well lost for endless fame.
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718 These, where two ways in equal parts divide,
719 The direful monster from afar descry'd;
720 Two bleeding babes depending at her side;
721 Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she draws,
722 And in their hearts embrues her cruel claws.
723 The youth surround her with extended spears;
724 But brave Choroebus in the front appears,
725 Deep in her breast he plung'd his shining sword,
726 And hell's dire monster back to hell restor'd.
727 Th'Inachians view the slain with vast surprize,
728 Her twisting volumes, and her rolling eyes,
729 Her spotted breast, and gaping womb embru'd
730 With livid poison, and our childrens blood.
731 The croud in stupid wonder fix'd appear,
732 Pale ev'n in joy, nor yet forget to fear.
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733 Some with vast beams the squalid corps engage,
734 And weary all the wild efforts of rage.
735 The birds obscene, that nightly flock'd to taste,
736 With hollow screeches fled the dire repast;
737 And ravenous dogs, allur'd by scented blood,
738 And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood.
739 But fir'd with rage, from cleft Parnassus' brow
740 Avenging Phoebus' bent his deadly bow,
741 And hissing flew the feather'd fates below;
742 A night of sultry clouds involv'd around
743 The tow'rs, the fields, and the devoted ground:
744 And now a thousand lives together fled,
745 Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread,
746 And a whole province in his triumph led.
747 But Phoebus, ask'd why noxious fires appear,
748 And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year;
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749 Demands their lives by whom his monster fell,
750 And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell.
751 Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame
752 Attend thy Manes, and preserve thy name;
753 Undaunted Hero! who, divinely brave,
754 In such a cause disdain'd thy life to save;
755 But view'd the shrine with a superior look,
756 And its upbraided Godhead thus bespoke.
757 With piety, the soul's securest guard,
758 And conscious virtue, still its own reward,
759 Willing I come, unknowing how to fear;
760 Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here.
761 Thy monster's death to me was ow'd alone,
762 And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown.
763 Behold him here, for whom, so many days,
764 Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays;
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765 For whom, as Man no longer claim'd thy care,
766 Such numbers fell by pestilential air!
767 But if th'abandon'd race of human kind
768 From Gods above no more compassion find;
769 If such inclemency in heav'n can dwell,
770 Yet why must un-offending Argos feel
771 The vengeance due to this unluckly steel?
772 On me, on me, let all thy fury fall,
773 Nor err from me, since I deserve it all:
774 Unless our desart cities please thy sight,
775 Our fun'ral flames reflect a grateful light.
776 Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend,
777 And to the shades a ghost triumphant send;
778 But for my Country let my fate atone,
779 Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own.
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780 Merit distress'd, impartial heav'n relieves;
781 Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives;
782 For not the vengeful pow'r, that glow'd with rage,
783 With such amazing virtue durst engage.
784 The clouds dispers'd, Apollo's wrath expir'd,
785 And from the wondring God th'unwilling youth retir'd.
786 Thence we these altars in his temple raise,
787 And offer annual honours, feasts, and praise;
788 These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus please,
789 These honours, still renew'd, his antient wrath appease.
790 But say, illustrious guest (adjoin'd the King)
791 What name you bear, from what high race you spring?
792 The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and known
793 Our neighbour Prince, and heir of Calydon.
794 Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night
795 And silent hours to various talk invite.
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796 The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes,
797 Confus'd, and sadly thus at length replies:
798 Before these altars how shall I proclaim
799 (Oh gen'rous prince) my nation or my name,
800 Or thro' what veins our antient blood has roll'd?
801 Let the sad tale for ever rest untold!
802 Yet if propitious to a wretch unknown,
803 You seek to share in sorrows not your own;
804 Know then, from Cadmus I derive my race,
805 Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place.
806 To whom the King, (who felt his gen'rous breast
807 Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest)
808 Replies---Ah why forbears the son to name
809 His wretched father, known too well by fame?
810 Fame, that delights around the world to stray,
811 Scorns not to take our Argos in her way.
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812 Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance roll,
813 In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole;
814 And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,
815 The faithless Syrtes and the moving sands;
816 Who view the western sea's extremest bounds,
817 Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds;
818 All these the woes of Oedipus have known,
819 Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.
820 If on the sons the parents crimes descend,
821 What Prince from those his lineage can defend?
822 Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t'efface
823 With virtuous acts thy ancestor's disgrace,
824 And be thy self the honour of thy race.
825 But see! the stars begin to steal away,
826 And shine more faintly at approaching day;
827 Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays,
828 Once more resound the great Apollo's praise.
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829 Oh father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coast
830 And snowy mountains, thy bright presence boast;
831 Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair,
832 And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair;
833 Or pleas'd to find fair Delos float no more,
834 Delight in Cynthus, and the shady shore;
835 Or chuse thy seat in Ilion's proud abodes,
836 The shining structures rais'd by lab'ring Gods.
837 By thee the bow and mortal shafts are born;
838 Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn:
839 Skill'd in the laws of secret fate above,
840 And the dark counsels of almighty Jove,
841 'Tis thine the seeds of future war to know,
842 The change of scepters, and impending woe;
843 When direful meteors spread thro' glowing air
844 Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair.
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845 Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire
846 T'excel the music of thy heav'nly lyre;
847 Thy shafts aveng'd leud Tityus' guilty flame,
848 Th'immortal victim of thy mother's fame;
849 Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost
850 Her num'rous off-spring for a fatal boast.
851 In Phlegias' doom thy just revenge appears,
852 Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears;
853 He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,
854 The mouldring rock that trembles from on high.
855 Propitious hear our pray'r, O Pow'r divine!
856 And on thy hospitable Argos shine.
857 Whether the style of Titan please thee more,
858 Whose purple rays th'Achæmenes adore;
859 Or great Osyris, who first taught the swain
860 In Pharian fields to sow the golden grain;
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861 Or Mitra, to whose beams the Persian bows,
862 And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows;
863 Mitra, whose head the blaze of light adorns,
864 Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar horns.
[Page 133]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: JANUARY and MAY:
OR, The Merchant's Tale. FROM CHAUCER. [Footnote: 1Kb] [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 135]
1 There liv'd in Lombardy, as authors write,
2 In days of old, a wise and worthy Knight;
3 Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,
4 Bless'd with much sense, more riches, and some grace.
5 Yet led astray by Venus' soft delights,
6 He scarce could rule some idle appetites:
7 For long ago, let Priests say what they cou'd,
8 Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.
9 But in due time, when sixty years were o'er,
10 He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more;
11 Whether pure holiness inspir'd his mind,
12 Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find;
13 But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed,
14 And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.
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15 This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
16 And to the heav'nly pow'rs his constant pray'r,
17 Once, e'er he dy'd, to taste the blissful life
18 Of a kind husband and a loving wife.
19 These thoughts he fortify'd with reasons still,
20 (For none want reasons to confirm their will.)
21 Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,
22 That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
23 But depth of judgment most in him appears,
24 Who wisely weds in his maturer years.
25 Then let him chuse a damsel young and fair,
26 To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
27 To sooth his cares, and free from noise and strife
28 Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
29 Let sinful batchelors their woes deplore,
30 Full well they merit all they feel, and more:
31 Unaw'd by precepts, human or divine,
32 Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join:
33 Nor know to make the present blessing last,
34 To hope the future, or esteem the past;
35 But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
36 And find divulg'd the secrets they would hide.
37 The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease,
38 Secure at once himself and heav'n to please;
39 And pass his inoffensive hours away,
40 In bliss all night, and innocence all day:
41 Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
42 Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
43 But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare?
44 Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair.
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45 With matchless impudence they stile a wife
46 The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
47 A bosom-serpent, a domestic evil,
48 A night-invasion, and a mid-day-devil.
49 Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard,
50 But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard.
51 All other goods by fortune's hand are giv'n,
52 A Wife is the peculiar gift of heav'n:
53 Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay,
54 Like empty shadows, pass, and glide away;
55 One solid comfort, our eternal wife,
56 Abundantly supplies us all our life:
57 This blessing lasts, (if those who try, say true)
58 As long as heart can wish---and longer too.
59 Our grandsire Adam, e'er of Eve possess'd,
60 Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unbless'd,
61 With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd,
62 And wander'd in the solitary shade:
63 The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd
64 Woman, the last, the best reserve of God.
65 A Wife! ah gentle deities, can he
66 That has a wife, e'er feel adversity?
67 Would men but follow what the sex advise,
68 All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.
69 'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won
70 His father's blessing from an elder son:
71 Abusive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life
72 To the wise conduct of a prudent wife:
73 Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
74 Preserv'd the Jews, and slew th'Assyrian foe:
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75 At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword
76 Was sheath'd, and Israel liv'd to bless the Lord.
77 These weighty motives, January the sage
78 Maturely ponder'd in his riper age;
79 And charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober life,
80 Would try that christian comfort, call'd a wife.
81 His friends were summon'd on a point so nice,
82 To pass their judgment, and to give advice;
83 But fix'd before, and well resolv'd was he;
84 (As men that ask advice are wont to be.)
85 My friends, he cry'd, (and cast a mournful look
86 Around the room, and sigh'd before he spoke:)
87 Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,
88 And worn with cares, am hast'ning to my end;
89 How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well,
90 In worldly follies, which I blush to tell;
91 But gracious heav'n has ope'd my eyes at last,
92 With due regret I view my vices past,
93 And as the precept of the Church decrees,
94 Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.
95 But since by counsel all things should be done,
96 And many heads are wiser still than one;
97 Chuse you for me, who best shall be content
98 When my desire's approv'd by your consent.
99 One caution yet is needful to be told,
100 To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:
101 There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said,
102 Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
103 My soul abhors the tastless, dry embrace
104 Of a stale virgin with a winter face;
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105 In that cold season Love but treats his guest
106 With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best.
107 No crafty widows shall approach my bed;
108 Those are too wise for batchelors to wed;
109 As subtle clerks by many schools are made,
110 Twice-marry'd dames are mistresses o'th' trade:
111 But young and tender virgins, rul'd with ease,
112 We form like wax, and mold them as we please.
113 Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my sense amiss;
114 'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss;
115 Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse,
116 As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows?
117 Then should I live in leud adultery,
118 And sink downright to Satan when I die.
119 Or were I curs'd with an unfruitful bed,
120 The righteous end were lost, for which I wed;
121 To raise up seed to bless the pow'rs above,
122 And not for pleasure only, or for love.
123 Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a wife,
124 When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life:
125 Those that are blest with store of grace divine,
126 May live like saints, by heav'ns consent, and mine.
127 And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,
128 (As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may)
129 My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart,
130 And a new vigour springs in ev'ry part.
131 Think not my virtue lost, tho' time has shed
132 These rev'rend honours on my hoary head;
133 Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms white as snow,
134 The vital sap then rising from below:
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135 Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear
136 Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.
137 Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand inclin'd,
138 Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his mind.
139 He said; the rest in diff'rent parts divide,
140 The knotty point was urg'd on either side;
141 Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd,
142 Some prais'd with wit, and some with reason blam'd.
143 Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
144 Each wondrous positive, and wondrous wise,
145 There fell between his brothers a debate,
146 Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that.
147 First to the Knight Placebo thus begun,
148 (Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone)
149 Such prudence, Sir, in all your words appears,
150 As plainly proves, experience dwells with years!
151 Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice,
152 To work by counsel when affairs are nice:
153 But, with the Wiseman's leave, I must protest,
154 So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,
155 As still I hold your own advice the best.
156 Sir, I have liv'd a Courtier all my days,
157 And study'd men, their manners, and their ways;
158 And have observ'd this useful maxim still,
159 To let my betters always have their will.
160 Nay, if my Lord affirm'd that black was white,
161 My word was this, Your honour's in the right.
162 Th'assuming Wit, who deems himself so wise
163 As his mistaken patron to advise,
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164 Let him not dare to vent his dang'rous thought;
165 A noble fool was never in a fault.
166 This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry word
167 Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a Lord:
168 Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
169 Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man;
170 At least, your courage all the world must praise,
171 Who dare to wed in your declining days.
172 Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
173 And let grey fools be indolently good,
174 Who past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
175 With rev'rend dulness, and grave impotence.
176 Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
177 Thus, with a philosophic frown, began.
178 A heathen author, of the first degree,
179 (Who, tho' not Faith, had Sense as well as we)
180 Bids us be certain our concerns to trust
181 To those of gen'rous principles, and just.
182 The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,
183 To give your person, than your goods away:
184 And therefore, Sir, as you regard your rest,
185 First learn your Lady's qualities at least:
186 Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil;
187 Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
188 Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool,
189 Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule?
190 'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find
191 In all this world, much less in woman-kind;
192 But if her virtues prove the larger share,
193 Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.
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194 Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
195 Who knows too well the state you thus commend;
196 And, spight of all its praises, must declare,
197 All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
198 Heav'n knows, I shed full many a private tear,
199 And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear:
200 While all my friends applaud my blissful life,
201 And swear no mortal's happier in a wife;
202 Demure and chaste as any vestal Nun,
203 The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
204 But, by the immortal pow'rs, I feel the pain,
205 And he that smarts has reason to complain.
206 Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
207 And cautious sure; for wisdom is in Age:
208 But, at these years, to venture on the fair!
209 By him, who made the ocean, earth, and air,
210 To please a wife, when her occasions call,
211 Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.
212 And trust me, Sir, the chastest you can chuse
213 Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
214 If what I speak my noble Lord offend,
215 My tedious sermon here is at an end.
216 'Tis well, 'tis wond'rous well, the Knight replies,
217 Most worthy kinsman, faith you're mighty wise!
218 We, Sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause
219 To heath'nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.
220 He spoke with scorn, and turn'd another way;---
221 What does my friend, my dear Placebo say?
222 I say, quoth he, by heav'n the man's to blame,
223 To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.
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224 At this, the council rose, without delay;
225 Each, in his own opinion, went his way;
226 With full consent, that all disputes appeas'd,
227 The Knight should marry, when and where he pleas'd.
228 Who now but January exults with joy?
229 The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:
230 Each nymph by turns his wav'ring mind possest,
231 And reign'd the short-liv'd tyrant of his breast;
232 While fancy pictur'd ev'ry lively part,
233 And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart.
234 Thus, in some publick Forum fix'd on high,
235 A Mirrour shows the figures moving by;
236 Still one by one, in swift succession, pass
237 The gliding shadows o'er the polish'd glass.
238 This Lady's charms the nicest cou'd not blame,
239 But vile suspicions had aspers'd her fame;
240 That was with sense, but not with virtue, blest;
241 And one had grace, that wanted all the rest.
242 Thus doubting long what nymph he shou'd obey,
243 He fix'd at last upon the youthful May.
244 Her faults he knew not, Love is always blind,
245 But ev'ry charm revolv'd within his mind:
246 Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
247 Her easy motion, her attractive air,
248 Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,
249 Her moving softness, and majestic grace.
250 Much in his prudence did our Knight rejoice,
251 And thought no mortal could dispute this choice:
252 Once more in haste he summon'd ev'ry friend,
253 And told them all, their pains were at an end.
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254 Heav'n, that (said he) inspir'd me first to wed,
255 Provides a consort worthy of my bed;
256 Let none oppose th'election, since on this
257 Depends my quiet, and my future bliss.
258 A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,
259 Young, beauteous, artless, innocent and wise;
260 Chaste, tho' not rich, and tho' not nobly born,
261 Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.
262 Her will I wed: if gracious heav'n so please;
263 To pass my age in sanctity and ease:
264 And thank the pow'rs, I may possess alone
265 The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none!
266 If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
267 My joys are full, my happiness is sure.
268 One only doubt remains; Full oft' I've heard,
269 By casuists grave, and deep divines averr'd;
270 That 'tis too much for human race to know
271 The bliss of heav'n above, and earth below.
272 Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great,
273 To match the blessings of the future state,
274 Those endless joys were ill exchang'd for these;
275 Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.
276 This Justin heard, nor could his spleen controul,
277 Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the soul.
278 Sir Knight, he cry'd, if this be all you dread,
279 Heav'n put it past your doubt, whene'er you wed;
280 And to my fervent pray'rs so far consent,
281 That e'er the rites are o'er, you may repent!
282 Good heav'n no doubt the nuptial state approves,
283 Since it chastises still what best it loves.
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284 Then be not, Sir, abandon'd to despair;
285 Seek, and perhaps you'll find, among the fair,
286 One, that may do your business to a hair;
287 Not ev'n in wish, your happiness delay,
288 But prove the scourge to lash you on your way:
289 Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go,
290 Swift, as an arrow soaring from the bow!
291 Provided still, you moderate your joy,
292 Nor in your pleasures all your might enjoy,
293 Let reason's rule your strong desires abate:
294 Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.
295 Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,
296 Who solve these questions beyond all dispute;
297 Consult with those, and be of better chear;
298 Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.
299 So said, they rose, nor more the work delay'd;
300 The match was offer'd, the proposals made.
301 The parents, you may think, would soon comply;
302 The Old have int'rest ever in their eye.
303 Nor was it hard to move the Lady's mind,
304 When fortune favours, still the Fair are kind.
305 I pass each previous settlement and deed,
306 Too long for me to write, or you to read;
307 Nor will with quaint impertinence display
308 The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.
309 The time approach'd, to Church the parties went,
310 At once with carnal and devout intent:
311 Forth came the Priest, and bade th'obedient wife
312 Like Sarah or Rebecca, lead her life:
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313 Then pray'd the pow'rs the fruitful bed to bless,
314 And made all sure enough with holiness.
315 And now the palace-gates are open'd wide,
316 The guests appear in order, side by side,
317 And plac'd in state, the bridegroom and the bride.
318 The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around,
319 And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound;
320 The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring,
321 These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string.
322 Not thus Amphion tun'd the warbling lyre,
323 Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire,
324 Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly strain
325 Cou'd swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train.
326 Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace,
327 (So Poets sing) was present on the place:
328 And lovely Venus, Goddess of delight,
329 Shook high her flaming torch in open sight,
330 And danc'd around, and smil'd on ev'ry Knight:
331 Pleas'd her best servant wou'd his courage try,
332 No less in wedlock, than in liberty.
333 Full many an age old Hymen had not spy'd
334 So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.
335 Ye bards! renown'd among the tuneful throng
336 For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song;
337 Think not your softest numbers can display
338 The matchless glories of this blissful day:
339 The joys are such, as far transcend your rage,
340 When tender youth has wedded stooping age.
341 The beauteous dame sate smiling at the board,
342 And darted am'rous glances at her Lord.
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343 Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing,
344 E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian King:
345 Bright as the rising sun, in summer's day,
346 And fresh and blooming as the month of May!
347 The joyful Knight survey'd her by his side,
348 Nor envy'd Paris with the Spartan bride:
349 Still as his mind revolv'd with vast delight
350 Th'entrancing raptures of th'approaching night:
351 Restless he sate, invoking ev'ry pow'r,
352 To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.
353 Meantime the vig'rous dancers beat the ground,
354 And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round,
355 With od'rous spices they perfum'd the place,
356 And mirth and pleasure shone in ev'ry face.
357 Damian alone, of all the menial train,
358 Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh'd for pain;
359 Damian alone, the Knight's obsequious squire,
360 Consum'd at heart, and fed a secret fire.
361 His lovely mistress all his soul possess'd,
362 He look'd, he languish'd, and cou'd take no rest:
363 His task perform'd, he sadly went his way,
364 Fell on his bed, and loath'd the light of day:
365 There let him lie; till his relenting dame
366 Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.
367 The weary sun, as learned Poets write,
368 Forsook th'horizon, and roll'd down the light;
369 While glitt'ring stars his absent beams supply,
370 And night's dark mantle overspread the sky.
371 Then rose the guests; and as the time requir'd,
372 Each paid his thanks, and decently retir'd.
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373 The foe once gone, our Knight prepar'd t'undress,
374 So keen he was, and eager to possess:
375 But first thought fit th'assistance to receive,
376 Which grave Physicians scruple not to give;
377 Satyrion near, with hot Eringo's stood,
378 Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,
379 Whose use old Bards describe in luscious rhymes,
380 And Critics learn'd explain to modern times.
381 By this the sheets were spread, the bride undress'd,
382 The room was sprinkled, and the bed was bless'd.
383 What next ensu'd beseems not me to say;
384 'Tis sung, he labour'd till the dawning day,
385 Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light,
386 As all were nothing he had done by night;
387 And sipp'd his cordial as he sate upright:
388 He kiss'd his balmy spouse with wanton play,
389 And feebly sung a lusty roundelay:
390 Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;
391 For every labour must have rest at last.
392 But anxious cares the pensive Squire oppress'd,
393 Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast;
394 The raging flames that in his bosom dwell,
395 He wanted art to hide, and means to tell.
396 Yet hoping time th'occasion might betray,
397 Compos'd a sonnet to the lovely May;
398 Which writ and folded with the nicest art,
399 He wrapp'd in silk, and laid upon his heart.
400 When now the fourth revolving day was run,
401 ('Twas June, and Cancer had receiv'd the sun)
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402 Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride;
403 The good old knight mov'd slowly by her side.
404 High Mass was sung; they feasted in the hall;
405 The servants round stood ready at their call.
406 The squire alone was absent from the board,
407 And much his sickness griev'd his worthy Lord,
408 Who pray'd his spouse attended by her train,
409 To visit Damian, and divert his pain.
410 Th'obliging dames obey'd with one consent;
411 They left the hall, and to his lodging went.
412 The female tribe surround him as he lay,
413 And close beside him sate the gentle May:
414 Where, as she try'd his pulse, he softly drew
415 A speaking sigh, and cast a mournful view;
416 Then gave his bill, and brib'd the pow'rs divine
417 With secret vows, to favour his design.
418 Who studies now but discontented May?
419 On her soft couch uneasily she lay:
420 The lumpish husband snoar'd away the night,
421 Till coughs awak'd him near the morning light.
422 What then he did, I not presume to tell,
423 Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or hell:
424 Honest and dull, in nuptial bed they lay,
425 Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.
426 Were it by forceful destiny decreed,
427 Or did from chance, or nature's pow'r proceed;
428 Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,
429 Shed its selectest influence from above;
430 Whatever was the cause, the tender dame
431 Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
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432 Receiv'd the impressions of the love-sick squire
433 And wasted in the soft, infectious fire.
434 Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move
435 Your gentle minds to pity those who love!
436 Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found,
437 The poor adorer sure had hang'd, or drown'd:
438 But she, your sex's mirrour, free from pride,
439 Was much too meek to prove a homicide.
440 But to my tale: Some Sages have defin'd
441 Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of human-kind:
442 Our Knight (who study'd much, we may suppose)
443 Deriv'd this high philosophy from those;
444 For, like a Prince, he bore the vast expence
445 Of lavish pomp and proud magnificence:
446 His house was stately, his retinue gay,
447 Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.
448 His spacious garden made to yield to none,
449 Was compass'd round with walls of solid stone;
450 Priapus could not half describe the grace
451 (Tho' God of gardens) of this charming place:
452 A place to tire the rambling wits of France
453 In long descriptions, and exceed Romance;
454 Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings
455 Of painted meadows, and of purling springs.
456 Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground,
457 A crystal fountain spread its streams around,
458 The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd:
459 About this spring (if ancient fame say true)
460 The dapper Elves their moon-light sports pursue:
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461 Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen,
462 In circling dances gambol'd on the green,
463 While tuneful sprites a merry consort made,
464 And airy music warbled thro' the shade.
465 Hither the noble knight would oft' repair,
466 (His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care)
467 For this he held it dear, and always bore
468 The silver key that lock'd the garden-door.
469 To this sweet place, in summer's sultry heat,
470 He us'd from noise and bus'ness to retreat;
471 And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,
472 Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May.
473 For whate'er work was undischarg'd a-bed,
474 The duteous knight in this fair garden sped.
475 But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure,
476 How short a space our worldly joys endure?
477 O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous kind,
478 But faithless still, and wav'ring as the wind!
479 O painted monster, form'd mankind to cheat,
480 With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit!
481 This rich, this am'rous, venerable knight,
482 Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight,
483 Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief,
484 And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.
485 The rage of jealousy then seiz'd his mind,
486 For much he fear'd the faith of woman-kind.
487 His wife not suffer'd from his side to stray,
488 Was captive kept, he watch'd her night and day,
489 Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her sway.
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490 Full oft' in tears did hapless May complain,
491 And sigh'd full oft'; but sigh'd and wept in vain;
492 She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye,
493 For oh, 'twas fix'd; she must possess or die!
494 Nor less impatience vex'd her am'rous squire,
495 Wild with delay, and burning with desire.
496 Watch'd as she was, yet could he not refrain
497 By secret writing to disclose his pain;
498 The dame by signs reveal'd her kind intent,
499 Till both were conscious what each other meant.
500 Ah, gentle knight, what would thy eyes avail,
501 Tho' they could see as far as ships can sail?
502 'Tis better sure, when blind, deceiv'd to be,
503 Than be deluded when a man can see!
504 Argus himself, so cautious and so wise,
505 Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes:
506 So many an honest husband may, 'tis known,
507 Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own.
508 The dame at last, by diligence and care,
509 Procur'd the key her knight was wont to bear;
510 She took the wards in wax before the fire,
511 And gave th'impression to the trusty squire.
512 By means of this, some wonder shall appear,
513 Which in due place and season, you may hear.
514 Well sung sweet Ovid in the days of yore,
515 What slight is that, which Love will not explore?
516 And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show
517 The feats true lovers, when they list, can do:
518 Tho' watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all,
519 They found the art of kissing thro' a wall.
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520 But now no longer from our tale to stray;
521 It happ'd, that once upon a summer's day,
522 Our rev'rend knight was urg'd to am'rous play:
523 He rais'd his spouse, e'er Matin-bell was rung,
524 And thus his morning canticle he sung.
525 Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes;
526 Arise, my wife, my beauteous Lady, rise!
527 Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain,
528 And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain;
529 The winter's past; the clouds and tempests fly;
530 The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.
531 Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming part
532 My bosom wounds, and captivates my heart;
533 Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage,
534 Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.
535 This heard, to Damian strait a sign she made,
536 To haste before; the gentle squire obey'd:
537 Secret, and undescry'd, he took his way,
538 And ambush'd close behind an arbour lay.
539 It was not long e'er January came,
540 And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
541 Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,
542 He turn'd the key, and made the gate secure.
543 Here let us walk, he said, observ'd by none,
544 Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:
545 So may my soul have joy, as thou, my wife,
546 Art far the dearest solace of my life;
547 And rather wou'd I chuse, by heav'n above,
548 To die this instant, than to lose thy love.
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549 Reflect what truth was in my passion shown,
550 When un-endow'd, I took thee for my own,
551 And sought no treasure but thy heart alone.
552 Old as I am, and now depriv'd of sight,
553 While thou art faithful to thy own true knight,
554 Nor age, nor blindness, rob me of delight.
555 Each other loss with patience I can bear,
556 The loss of thee is what I only fear.
557 Consider then, my Lady, and my wife,
558 The solid comforts of a virtuous life.
559 As first, the love of Christ himself you gain;
560 Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
561 And lastly, that which sure your mind must move,
562 My whole estate shall gratify your love:
563 Make your own terms, and e'er to-morrow's sun
564 Displays his light, by heav'n it shall be done.
565 I seal the contract with a holy kiss,
566 And will perform, by this---my dear, and this.---
567 Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy Lord unkind;
568 'Tis love, not jealousy that fires my mind.
569 For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage,
570 And join'd to them, my own unequal age;
571 From thy dear side I have no pow'r to part,
572 Such secret transports warm my melting heart.
573 For who that once possess'd those heav'nly charms,
574 Cou'd live one moment, absent from thy arms?
575 He ceas'd, and May with modest grace reply'd;
576 (Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cry'd:)
577 Heav'n knows, (with that, a tender sigh she drew)
578 I have a soul to save as well as you;
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579 And, what no less you to my charge commend,
580 My dearest honour, will to death defend.
581 To you in holy Church I gave my hand,
582 And join'd my heart in wedlock's sacred band:
583 Yet after this, if you distrust my care,
584 Then hear, my Lord, and witness what I swear:
585 First may the yawning earth her bosom rend,
586 And let me hence to hell alive descend;
587 Or die the death I dread no less than hell,
588 Sow'd in a sack, and plung'd into a well:
589 E'er I my fame by one leud act disgrace,
590 Or once renounce the honour of my race.
591 For know, sir knight, of gentle blood I came,
592 I loath a whore, and startle at the name.
593 But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
594 And learn from thence their Ladies to suspect:
595 Else why these needless cautions, Sir, to me?
596 These doubts and fears of female constancy?
597 This chime still rings in ev'ry Lady's ear,
598 The only strain a wife must hope to hear.
599 Thus while she spoke, a sidelong glance she cast,
600 Where Damian kneeling, worshipp'd as she past.
601 She saw him watch the motions of her eye,
602 And singled out a Pear-tree planted nigh:
603 'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly show,
604 And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.
605 Thither th'obsequious squire address'd his pace,
606 And climbing, in the summit took his place;
607 The Knight and Lady walk'd beneath in view,
608 Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.
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609 'Twas now the season when the glorious sun
610 His heav'nly progress thro' the Twins had run;
611 And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
612 To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields.
613 Clear was the day, and Phoebus rising bright,
614 Had streak'd the azure firmament with light;
615 He pierc'd the glitt'ring clouds with golden streams,
616 And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.
617 It so befel, in that fair morning-tide,
618 The Fairies sported on the garden's side,
619 And, in the midst, their Monarch and his bride.
620 So featly tripp'd the lightfoot Ladies round,
621 The knights so nimbly o'er the greensword bound,
622 That scarce they bent the flow'rs, or touch'd the ground.
623 The dances ended, all the fairy train
624 For pinks and daisies search'd the flow'ry plain;
625 While on a bank reclin'd of rising green,
626 Thus, with a frown, the King bespoke his Queen.
627 'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
628 The treachery you women use to man:
629 A thousand authors have this truth made out,
630 And sad experience leaves no room for doubt.
631 Heav'n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,
632 A wiser monarch never saw the sun:
633 All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree
634 Of earthly bliss, was well bestow'd on thee!
635 For sagely hast thou said; Of all mankind,
636 One only just, and righteous, hope to find:
637 But should'st thou search the spacious world around,
638 Yet one good woman is not to be found.
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639 Thus says the King who knew your wickedness;
640 The son of Sirach testifies no less.
641 So may some wildfire on your bodies fall,
642 Or some devouring plague consume you all;
643 As well you view the Leacher in the tree,
644 And well this honourable Knight you see:
645 But since he's blind and old, (a helpless case)
646 His squire shall cuckold him before your face.
647 Now by my own dread majesty I swear,
648 And by this awful sceptre which I bear,
649 No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd long,
650 That in my presence offers such a wrong.
651 I will this instant undeceive the knight,
652 And, in the very act, restore his sight:
653 And set the strumpet here in open view,
654 A warning to these Ladies, and to you,
655 And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.
656 And will you so, reply'd the Queen indeed?
657 Now, by my mother's soul, it is decreed,
658 She shall not want an answer at her need.
659 For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage,
660 And all the sex in each succeeding age;
661 Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,
662 And fortify their crimes with confidence.
663 Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,
664 Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place;
665 All they shall need is to protest, and swear,
666 Breath a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;
667 Till their wise husbands, gull'd by arts like these,
668 Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.
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669 What tho' this sland'rous Jew, this Solomon,
670 Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one?
671 The wiser wits of later times declare,
672 How constant, chaste, and virtuous, women are:
673 Witness the martyrs, who resign'd their breath,
674 Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
675 And witness next what Roman authors tell,
676 How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.
677 But since the sacred leaves to all are free,
678 And men interpret texts, why shou'd not we?
679 By this no more was meant, than to have shown,
680 That sov'reign goodness dwells in Him alone
681 Who only Is, and is but only One.
682 But grant the worst; shall women then be weigh'd
683 By ev'ry word that Solomon has said?
684 What tho' this King (as ancient story boasts)
685 Built a fair temple to the Lord of hosts;
686 He ceas'd at last his Maker to adore,
687 And did as much for Idol-gods, or more.
688 Beware what lavish praises you confer
689 On a rank leacher and idolater;
690 Whose reign indulgent God, says holy writ,
691 Did but for David's righteous sake permit;
692 David, the monarch after heav'ns own mind,
693 Who lov'd our sex, and honour'd all our kind.
694 Well, I'm a woman, and as such must speak;
695 Silence would swell me, and my heart would break.
696 Know then, I scorn your dull authorities,
697 Your idle wits, and all their learned lyes.
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698 By heav'n, those authors are our sex's foes,
699 Whom, in our right, I must, and will oppose.
700 Nay (quoth the King) dear Madam, be not wroth:
701 I yield it up; but since I gave my oath,
702 That this much-injur'd knight again shou'd see;
703 It must be done---I am a King, said he,
704 And one, whose faith has ever sacred been.
705 And so has mine, (she said)---I am a Queen;
706 Her answer she shall have, I undertake;
707 And thus an end of all dispute I make:
708 Try when you list; and you shall find, my Lord,
709 It is not in our sex to break our word.
710 We leave them here in this heroick strain,
711 And to the knight our story turns again;
712 Who in the garden, with his lovely May,
713 Sung merrier than the Cuckow or the Jay:
714 This was his song; "Oh kind and constant be,
715 "Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.
716 Thus singing as he went, at last he drew
717 By easy steps to where the Peartree grew:
718 The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her Love
719 Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above.
720 She stopp'd, and sighing: Oh good Gods, she cry'd,
721 What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side?
722 O for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green;
723 Help, for the love of heav'ns immortal Queen!
724 Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life
725 Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!
726 Sore sigh'd the knight to hear his Lady's cry,
727 But cou'd not climb, and had no servant nigh:
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728 Old as he was, and void of eye-sight too,
729 What cou'd, alas! the helpless husband do?
730 And must I languish then, she said, and die,
731 Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
732 At least, kind Sir, for charity's sweet sake,
733 Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;
734 Then from your back I might ascend the tree;
735 Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.
736 With all my soul, he thus reply'd again,
737 I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain;
738 With that, his back against the trunk he bent,
739 She seiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went.
740 Now prove your patience, gentle Ladies all!
741 Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
742 'Tis truth I tell, tho' not in phrase refin'd;
743 Tho' blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind.
744 What feats the Lady in the tree might do,
745 I pass, as gambols never known to you;
746 But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
747 Than in her life she ever felt before.
748 In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring knight
749 Look'd out, and stood restor'd to sudden sight.
750 Strait on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
751 As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent;
752 But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress'd,
753 His rage was such as cannot be express'd:
754 Not frantic mothers when their infants die,
755 With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:
756 He cry'd, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair;
757 Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there?
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758 What ails my lord? the trembling dame reply'd;
759 I thought your patience had been better try'd:
760 Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind,
761 This my reward, for having cur'd the blind?
762 Why was I taught to make my husband see,
763 By struggling with a Man upon a Tree?
764 Did I, for this, the pow'r of magic prove?
765 Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!
766 If this be struggling, by this holy light,
767 'Tis struggling with a vengeance, (quoth the knight)
768 So heav'n preserve the sight it has restor'd,
769 As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whor'd;
770 Whor'd by my slave---perfidious wretch! may hell
771 As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.
772 Guard me, good angels! cry'd the gentle May,
773 Pray heav'n, this magic work the proper way!
774 Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see,
775 You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me:
776 So help me fates, as 'tis no perfect sight,
777 But some faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light.
778 What I have said, (quoth he) I must maintain,
779 For by th'immortal pow'rs, it seem'd too plain---
780 By all those pow'rs, some frenzy seiz'd your mind,
781 (Reply'd the dame) are these the thanks I find?
782 Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!
783 She said; a rising sigh express'd her woe,
784 The ready tears apace began to flow,
785 And as they fell, she wip'd from either eye
786 The drops, (for women, when they list, can cry.)
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787 The knight was touch'd, and in his looks appear'd
788 Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he chear'd.
789 Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er;
790 Come down, and vex your tender heart no more:
791 Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said,
792 For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made:
793 Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,
794 By heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw.
795 Ah my lov'd lord! 'twas much unkind (she cry'd)
796 On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride.
797 But till your sight's establish'd, for a while,
798 Imperfect objects may your sense beguile.
799 Thus when from sleep we first our eyes display,
800 The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,
801 And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the day.
802 So just recov'ring from the shades of night,
803 Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light,
804 Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight.
805 Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;
806 Heav'n knows how seldom things are what they seem!
807 Consult your reason, and you soon shall find
808 'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind:
809 Jove ne'er spoke Oracle more true than this,
810 None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.
811 With that, she leap'd into her Lord's embrace,
812 With well-dissembled virtue in her face.
813 He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er,
814 Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no more:
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815 Both, pleas'd and bless'd, renew'd their mutual vows,
816 A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.
817 Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make,
818 Let all wise husbands hence example take;
819 And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
820 To be so well deluded by their wives.
[Page 165]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE WIFE of BATH HER PROLOGUE, FROM CHAUCER. [from The Works (1736)]
[Page 167]
1 Behold the woes of matrimonial life,
2 And hear with rev'rence an experienc'd wife!
3 To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
4 And think, for once, a woman tells you true.
5 In all these trials I have born a part,
6 I was myself the scourge that caus'd the smart;
7 For, since fifteen, in triumph have I led
8 Five captive husbands from the church to bed.
9 Christ saw a wedding once, the scripture says,
10 And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days;
11 Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice,
12 No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
13 But let them read, and solve me, if they can,
14 The words address'd to the Samaritan:
15 Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd;
16 And sure the certain stint was ne'er defin'd.
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17 Encrease and multiply was heav'ns command,
18 And that's a text I clearly understand.
19 This too, "Let men their sires and mothers leave,
20 "And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.
21 More wives than one by Solomon were try'd,
22 Or else the wisest of mankind's bely'd.
23 I've had myself full many a merry fit;
24 And trust in heav'n I may have many yet.
25 For when my transitory spouse, unkind,
26 Shall die, and leave his woeful wife behind,
27 I'll take the next good Christian I can find.
28 Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
29 Declar'd 'twas better far to wed, than burn.
30 There's danger in assembling fire and tow;
31 I grant 'em that, and what it means you know.
32 The same Apostle too has elsewhere own'd,
33 No precept for Virginity he found:
34 'Tis but a counsel---and we women still
35 Take which we like, the counsel, or our will.
36 I envy not their bliss, if he or she
37 Think fit to live in perfect chastity;
38 Pure let them be, and free from taint of vice;
39 I, for a few slight spots, am not so nice.
40 Heav'n calls us diff'rent ways, on these bestows
41 One proper gift, another grants to those:
42 Not ev'ry man's oblig'd to sell his store,
43 And give up all his substance to the poor;
44 Such as are perfect, may, I can't deny;
45 But, by your leave, Divines, so am not I.
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46 Full many a Saint, since first the world began,
47 Liv'd an unspotted maid, in spite of man:
48 Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed,
49 And let us honest wives eat barley-bread.
50 For me, I'll keep the post assign'd by heav'n,
51 And use the copious talent it has giv'n:
52 Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right,
53 And keep an equal reck'ning ev'ry night:
54 His proper body is not his, but mine;
55 For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound divine.
56 Know then, of those five husbands I have had,
57 Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
58 The three were old, but rich and fond beside,
59 And toil'd most piteously to please their bride:
60 But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine,
61 The rest, without much loss, I could resign.
62 Sure to be lov'd, I took no pains to please,
63 Yet had more pleasure far than they had Ease.
64 Presents flow'd in apace: with show'rs of gold,
65 They made their court, like Jupiter of old.
66 If I but smil'd, a sudden youth they found,
67 And a new palsy seiz'd them when I frown'd.
68 Ye sov'reign wives! give ear, and understand;
69 Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command.
70 For never was it giv'n to mortal man,
71 To lye so boldly as we women can.
72 Forswear the fact, tho' seen with both his eyes,
73 And call your maids to witness how he lyes.
74 Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I us'd to say)
75 Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and gay?
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76 Treated, caress'd, where'er she's pleas'd to roam---
77 I sit in tatters, and immur'd at home.
78 Why to her house dost thou so oft repair?
79 Art thou so am'rous? and is she so fair?
80 If I but see a cousin, or a friend,
81 Lord! how you swell, and rage like any fiend!
82 But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear,
83 Then preach till midnight in your easy chair,
84 Cry, wives are false, and ev'ry woman evil,
85 And give up all that's female to the devil.
86 If poor (you say) she drains her husband's purse;
87 If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse;
88 If highly born, intolerably vain,
89 Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain,
90 Now gayly mad, now sourly splenetick,
91 Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick.
92 If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide,
93 By pressing youth attack'd on ev'ry side.
94 If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures,
95 Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures,
96 Or else she dances with becoming grace,
97 Or shape excuses the defects of face.
98 There swims no goose so grey, but, soon or late,
99 She finds some honest gander for her mate.
100 Horses (thou say'st) and asses, men may try,
101 And ring suspected vessels e'er they buy:
102 But wives, a random choice, untry'd they take,
103 They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake:
104 Then, nor till then, the veil's remov'd away,
105 And all the woman glares in open day.
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106 You tell me, to preserve your wife's good grace,
107 Your eyes must always languish on my face,
108 Your tongue with constant flatt'ries feed my ear,
109 And tag each sentence with, My life! my dear!
110 If, by strange chance, a modest blush be rais'd,
111 Be sure my fine complexion must be prais'd.
112 My garments always must be new and gay,
113 And feasts still kept upon my wedding-day.
114 Then must my Nurse be pleas'd, and fav'rite maid;
115 And endless treats, and endless visits paid,
116 To a long train of kindred, friends, allies;
117 All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are lyes.
118 On Jenkin too you cast a squinting eye:
119 What? can your Prentice raise your jealousy?
120 Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair,
121 And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair.
122 But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow,
123 I'd scorn your prentice, should you die to-morrow.
124 Why are thy chests all lock'd? on what design?
125 Are not thy worldly goods and treasure mine?
126 Sir, I'm no fool: nor shall you, by St. John,
127 Have goods and body to your self alone.
128 One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes---
129 I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies.
130 If you had wit, you'd say, "Go where you will,
131 "Dear spouse, I credit not the tales they tell:
132 "Take all the freedoms of a married life;
133 "I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.
134 Lord! when you have enough, what need you care
135 How merrily soever others fare?
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136 Tho' all the day I give and take delight,
137 Doubt not, sufficient will be left at night.
138 'Tis but a just and rational desire,
139 To light a taper at a neighbour's fire.
140 There's danger too, you think, in rich array,
141 And none can long be modest that are gay:
142 The Cat, if you but singe her tabby skin,
143 The chimney keeps, and sits content within;
144 But once grown sleek, will from her corner run,
145 Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun;
146 She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad,
147 To show her furr, and to be catterwaw'd.
148 Lo thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires
149 These three right ancient venerable sires.
150 I told 'em, thus you say, and thus you do---
151 And told 'em false, but Jenkin swore 'twas true.
152 I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine,
153 And first complain'd, whene'er the guilt was mine.
154 I tax'd them oft' with wenching and amours,
155 When their weak legs scarce dragg'd 'em out of doors;
156 And swore the rambles that I took by night,
157 Were all to spy what damsels they bedight.
158 That colour brought me many hours of mirth;
159 For all this wit is giv'n us from our birth.
160 Heav'n gave to woman the peculiar grace
161 To spin, to weep, and cully human race.
162 By this nice conduct, and this prudent course,
163 By murm'ring, wheedling, stratagem, and force,
164 I still prevail'd, and would be in the right,
165 Or curtain-lectures made a restless night.
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166 If once my husband's arm was o'er my side,
167 What! so familiar with your spouse? I cry'd:
168 I levied first a tax upon his need;
169 Then let him---'twas a Nicety indeed!
170 Let all mankind this certain maxim hold,
171 Marry who will, our Sex is to be sold.
172 With empty hands no tassels you can lure,
173 But fulsom love for gain we can endure;
174 For gold we love the impotent and old,
175 And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold.
176 Yet with embraces, curses oft' I mixt,
177 Then kiss'd again, and chid and rail'd betwixt.
178 Well, I may make my will in peace, and die,
179 For not one word in man's arrears am I.
180 To drop a dear Dispute I was unable,
181 Ev'n tho' the Pope himself had set at table.
182 But when my point was gain'd, then thus I spoke,
183 "Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look?
184 "Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek;
185 "Thou should'st be always thus, resign'd and meek!
186 "Of Job's great patience since so oft' you preach,
187 "Well should you practise, who so well can teach.
188 "'Tis difficult to do, I must allow,
189 "But I, my dearest, will instruct you how.
190 "Great is the blessing of a prudent wife,
191 "Who puts a period to domestic strife.
192 "One of us two must rule, and one obey;
193 "And since in man right reason bears the sway,
194 "Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way.
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195 "The wives of all my family have rul'd
196 "Their tender husbands, and their passions cool'd.
197 "Fye, 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan;
198 "What! would you have me to your self alone?
199 "Why take me, Love! take all and ev'ry part!
200 "Here's your revenge! you love it at your heart.
201 "Would I vouchsafe to sell what nature gave,
202 "You little think what custom I could have?
203 "But see! I'm all your own---nay hold---for shame!
204 "What means my dear---indeed---you are to blame.
205 Thus with my first three Lords I past my life;
206 A very woman, and a very wife.
207 What sums from these old spouses I could raise,
208 Procur'd young husbands in my riper days.
209 Tho' past my bloom, not yet decay'd was I,
210 Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pye.
211 In country dances still I bore the bell,
212 And sung as sweet as evening Philomel.
213 To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul,
214 Full oft' I drain'd the spicy nut-brown bowl;
215 Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve,
216 And warm the swelling veins to feats of love:
217 For 'tis as sure, as cold ingenders hail,
218 A liqu'rish mouth must have a lech'rous tail;
219 Wine lets no lover unrewarded go,
220 As all true gamesters by experience know.
221 But oh good Gods! whene'er a thought I cast
222 On all the joys of youth and beauty past,
223 To find in pleasures I have had my part,
224 Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.
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225 This wicked world was once my dear delight;
226 Now all my conquests, all my charms good night!
227 The flour consum'd, the best that now I can,
228 Is e'en to make my market of the bran.
229 My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true;
230 He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two:
231 But all that score I paid---as how? you'll say,
232 Not with my body, in a filthy way:
233 But I so dress'd, and danc'd, and drank, and din'd;
234 And view'd a friend, with eyes so very kind,
235 As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry
236 With burning rage, and frantick jealousy.
237 His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory,
238 For here on earth I was his purgatory.
239 Oft', when his shoe the most severely wrung,
240 He put on careless airs, and sat and sung.
241 How sore I gall'd him, only heav'n could know,
242 And he that felt, and I that caus'd the woe.
243 He dy'd, when last from pilgrimage I came,
244 With other gossips, from Jerusalem;
245 And now lies buried underneath a Rood,
246 Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood.
247 A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures grac'd,
248 Than that Mausolus' pious widow plac'd,
249 Or where inshrin'd the great Darius lay;
250 But cost on graves is merely thrown away.
251 The pit fill'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er;
252 So bless the good man's soul, I say no more.
253 Now for my fifth lov'd Lord, the last and best;
254 (Kind heav'n afford him everlasting rest)
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255 Full hearty was his love, and I can shew
256 The tokens on my ribs, in black and blue;
257 Yet, with a knack, my heart he could have won,
258 While yet the smart was shooting in the bone.
259 How quaint an appetite in women reigns!
260 Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us pains:
261 Let men avoid us, and on them we leap;
262 A glutted market makes provision cheap.
263 In pure good will I took this jovial spark,
264 Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk.
265 He boarded with a widow in the town,
266 A trusty gossip, one dame Alison.
267 Full well the secrets of my soul she knew,
268 Better than e'er our parish Priest could do.
269 To her I told whatever could befall;
270 Had but my husband piss'd against a wall,
271 Or done a thing that might have cost his life,
272 She---and my niece---and one more worthy wife,
273 Had known it all: what most he would conceal,
274 To these I made no scruple to reveal.
275 Oft' has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame,
276 That e'er he told a secret to his dame.
277 It so befel, in holy time of Lent,
278 That oft' a day I to this gossip went;
279 (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town)
280 From house to house we rambled up and down,
281 This clerk, my self, and my good neighbour Alce,
282 To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales.
283 Visits to ev'ry Church we daily paid,
284 And march'd in ev'ry holy Masquerade,
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285 The Stations duly, and the Vigils kept;
286 Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept.
287 At Sermons too I shone in scarlet gay;
288 The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best array,
289 The cause was this, I wore it ev'ry day.
290 'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields,
291 This Clerk and I were walking in the fields.
292 We grew so intimate, I can't tell how,
293 I pawn'd my honour, and engag'd my vow,
294 If e'er I laid my husband in his urn,
295 That he, and only he, should serve my turn.
296 We strait struck hands, the bargain was agreed;
297 I still have shifts against a time of need:
298 The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole,
299 Can never be a mouse of any soul.
300 I vow'd, I scarce could sleep since first I knew him,
301 And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him;
302 If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone,
303 And dreams foretel, as learned men have shown;
304 All this I said; but dream, sirs, I had none:
305 I follow'd but my crafty Crony's lore,
306 Who bid me tell this lye---and twenty more.
307 Thus day by day, and month by month we past;
308 It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at last.
309 I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust,
310 And beat my breasts, as wretched widows---must.
311 Before my face my handkerchief I spread,
312 To hide the flood of tears I did---not shed.
313 The good man's coffin to the Church was born;
314 Around, the neighbours, and my clerk too, mourn.
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315 But as he march'd, good Gods! he show'd a pair
316 Of legs and feet, so clean, so strong, so fair!
317 Of twenty winters age he seem'd to be;
318 I (to say truth) was twenty more than he;
319 But vig'rous still, a lively buxom dame;
320 And had a wond'rous gift to quench a flame.
321 A Conj'rer once, that deeply could divine,
322 Assur'd me, Mars in Taurus was my sign.
323 As the stars order'd, such my life has been:
324 Alas, alas, that ever love was sin!
325 Fair Venus gave me fire, and sprightly grace,
326 And Mars assurance, and a dauntless face.
327 By virtue of this pow'rful constellation,
328 I follow'd always my own inclination.
329 But to my tale: A month scarce pass'd away,
330 With dance and song we kept the nuptial day.
331 All I possess'd I gave to his command,
332 My goods and chattels, mony, house, and land:
333 But oft' repented, and repent it still;
334 He prov'd a rebel to my sov'reign will:
335 Nay once by heav'n he struck me on the face;
336 Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case.
337 Stubborn as any Lioness was I;
338 And knew full well to raise my voice on high;
339 As true a rambler as I was before,
340 And would be so, in spite of all he swore.
341 He, against this right sagely would advise,
342 And old examples set before my eyes;
343 Tell how the Roman matrons led their life,
344 Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife;
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345 And chose the sermon, as beseem'd his wit,
346 With some grave sentence out of holy writ.
347 Oft' would he say, Who builds his house on sands,
348 Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands,
349 Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam,
350 Deserves a fool's-cap and long ears at home.
351 All this avail'd not; for whoe'er he be
352 That tells my faults, I hate him mortally:
353 And so do numbers more, I'll boldly say,
354 Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay.
355 My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred)
356 A certain treatise oft' at evening read,
357 Where divers Authors (whom the dev'l confound
358 For all their lyes) were in one volume bound.
359 Valerius, whole; and of St. Jerome, part;
360 Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art,
361 Solomon's proverbs, Eloïsa's loves;
362 And many more than sure the Church approves.
363 More legends were there here, of wicked wives,
364 Than good, in all the Bible and Saints-lives.
365 Who drew the Lion vanquish'd? 'Twas a Man.
366 But cou'd we women write as scholars can,
367 Men should stand mark'd with far more wickedness,
368 Than all the sons of Adam could redress.
369 Love seldom haunts the breast where Learning lies,
370 And Venus sets e'er Mercury can rise.
371 Those play the scholars who can't play the men,
372 And use that weapon which they have, their pen;
373 When old, and past the relish of delight,
374 Then down they sit, and in their dotage write,
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375 That not one woman keeps her marriage-vow.
376 (This by the way, but to my purpose now.)
377 It chanc'd my husband, on a winter's night,
378 Read in this book, aloud, with strange delight,
379 How the first female (as the scriptures show)
380 Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe.
381 How Sampson fell; and he whom Dejanire
382 Wrap'd in th'envenom'd shirt, and set on fire.
383 How curs'd Eryphile her Lord betray'd,
384 And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid.
385 But what most pleas'd him was the Cretan dame,
386 And husband-bull---oh monstrous! fie for shame!
387 He had by heart, the whole detail of woe
388 Xantippe made her good man undergo;
389 How oft' she scolded in a day, he knew,
390 How many piss-pots on the sage she threw;
391 Who took it patiently, and wipe'd his head;
392 Rain follows thunder, that was all he said.
393 He read, how Arius to his friend complain'd,
394 A fatal Tree was growing in his land,
395 On which three wives successively had twin'd
396 A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind.
397 Where grows this plant (reply'd the friend) oh where?
398 For better fruit did never orchard bear.
399 Give me some slip of this most blissful tree,
400 And in my garden planted shall it be.
401 Then how two wives their lord's destruction prove,
402 Thro' hatred one, and one thro' too much love;
403 That for her husband mix'd a pois'nous draught,
404 And this for lust an am'rous philtre bought,
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405 The nimble juice soon seiz'd his giddy head,
406 Frantic at night, and in the morning dead.
407 How some with swords their sleeping lords have slain,
408 And some have hammer'd nails into their brain,
409 And some have drench'd them with a deadly potion;
410 All this he read, and read with great devotion.
411 Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, and frown'd;
412 But when no end of these vile tales I found,
413 When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again,
414 And half the night was thus consum'd in vain;
415 Provok'd to vengeance, three large leaves I tore,
416 And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor.
417 With that, my husband in a fury rose,
418 And down he settled me with hearty blows.
419 I groan'd, and lay extended on my side;
420 Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth (I cry'd)
421 Yet I forgive thee---take my last embrace---
422 He wept, kind soul! and stoop'd to kiss my face;
423 I took him such a box as turn'd him blue,
424 Then sigh'd and cry'd, Adieu, my dear, adieu!
425 But after many a hearty struggle past,
426 I condescended to be pleas'd at last.
427 Soon as he said, My mistress and my wife,
428 Do what you list, the term of all your life:
429 I took to heart the merits of the cause,
430 And stood content to rule by wholesome laws;
431 Receiv'd the Reins of absolute command,
432 With all the government of house and land,
433 And empire o'er his tongue, and o'er his hand.
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434 As for the volume that revil'd the dames,
435 'Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames.
436 Now heav'n on all my husbands gone, bestow
437 Pleasures above, for tortures felt below:
438 That rest they wish'd for, grant them in the grave,
439 And bless those souls my conduct help'd to save!
[Page 183]
IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS:
Done by the Author in his Youth.
[Page 185]
I. CHAUCER.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: [Women ben full of Ragerie] [from The Works (1736)]
1 Women ben full of Ragerie,
2 Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
3 Thilke moral shall ye understond,
4 From Schole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond:
5 Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
6 To filch the gray Ducke fro the Lake.
7 Right then, there passen by the Way
8 His Aunt, and eke her Daughters tway.
9 Ducke in his Trowses hath he hent,
10 Not to be spied of Ladies gent.
11 "But ho! our Nephew, (crieth one,)
12 "Ho! quoth another, Cozen John;
13 And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,---
14 This sely Clerk full low doth lout:
15 They asken that, and talken this,
16 "Lo here is Coz, and here is Miss.
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17 But, as he glozeth with Speeches soote,
18 The Ducke sore tickleth his Erse roote:
19 Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
20 Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
21 Te-he cry'd Ladies; Clerke nought spake:
22 Miss star'd; and gray Ducke crieth Quaake.
23 "O Moder, Moder, (quoth the daughter,)
24 "Be thilke same thing Maids longer a'ter?
25 "Bette is to pyne on Coals and chalke,
26 "Then trust on Mon, whose yerde can talke.
II. SPENSER.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Alley. [from The Works (1736)]
I
1 In ev'ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
2 A narrow Pass there is, with Houses low;
3 Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey'd,
4 And many a Boat soft sliding to and fro.
5 There oft' are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
6 The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and shriller Squall:
7 How can ye, Mothers, vex your Children so?
8 Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
9 And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
[Page 187]
II
10 And on the broken pavement, here and there,
11 Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
12 A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
13 And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
14 And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.
15 At ev'ry door are sun-burnt Matrons seen,
16 Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
17 Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
18 Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbourhood I ween.
III
19 The snappish cur, (the passengers annoy)
20 Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
21 The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
22 Join to the yelping treble, shrilling cries;
23 The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
24 And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
25 To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
26 The grunting hogs alarm the Neighbours round,
27 And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base are drown'd.
IV
28 Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
29 Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
30 Baskets of fish at Billinsgate did watch,
31 Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
32 There learn'd she speech from tongues that never cease.
[Page 188]
33 Slander beside her, like a Magpie, chatters,
34 With Envy, (spitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
35 Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters,
36 And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
V
37 Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's hand,
38 Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall:
39 She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band,
40 And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
41 Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call:
42 Yea when she passed by or lane or nook,
43 Would greet the man who turn'd him to the Wall,
44 And by his hand obscene the porter took,
45 Nor ever did askance like modest Virgin look.
VI
46 Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
47 Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch;
48 Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
49 And Twick'nam such, which fairer scenes enrich
50 Grots, statues, urns, and Jo---n's Dog and bitch,
51 Ne village is without, on either side,
52 All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
53 Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd
54 Vales, spires, meandring streams, and Windsor's tow'ry pride.
[Page 189]
III. WALLER.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Of a Lady singing to her Lute. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Fair Charmer cease, nor make your voice's prize
2 A heart resign'd the conquest of your eyes:
3 Well might, alas! that threatned vessel fail,
4 Which winds and lightning both at once assail.
5 We were too blest with these inchanting lays,
6 Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays:
7 But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
8 Lest heav'nly music shou'd be heard alive.
9 Orpheus cou'd charm the trees, but thus a tree,
10 Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he;
11 A Poet made the silent wood pursue,
12 This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.
[Page 190]
IV. COWLEY.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Garden. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Fain would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures sing,
2 And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
3 Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse,
4 And soft Carnations show'r their balmy dews;
5 Where Lillies smile in virgin robes of white,
6 The thin Undress of superficial Light,
7 And vary'd Tulips show so dazling gay,
8 Blushing in bright diversities of day.
9 Each painted flouret in the lake below
10 Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
11 And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain
12 Transformed, gazes on himself again.
13 Here aged trees Cathedral walks compose,
14 And mount the Hill in venerable rows:
15 There the green Infants in their beds are laid,
16 The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade.
17 Here Orange-trees with blooms and pendants shine,
18 And vernal honours to their autumn join;
19 Exceed their promise in the ripen'd store,
20 Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
[Page 191]
21 There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
22 By Laurels shielded from the piercing Day:
23 Where Daphne, now a tree as once a maid,
24 Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
25 Still turns her beauties from th'invading beam,
26 Nor seeks in vain for succour to the Stream.
27 The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
28 At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
29 Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
30 And Winter's Coolness spite of Summer's rays.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Weeping. [from The Works (1736)]
31 While Celia's Tears make sorrow bright,
32 Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes;
33 The Sun, next those the fairest light,
34 Thus from the Ocean first did rise:
35 And thus thro' Mists we see the Sun,
36 Which else we durst not gaze upon.
37 These silver drops, like morning dew,
38 Foretell the fervour of the day:
39 So from one Cloud soft show'rs we view,
40 And blasting lightnings burst away.
41 The Stars that fall from Celia's eye,
42 Declare, our Doom is drawing nigh.
[Page 192]
43 The Baby in that sunny Sphere
44 So like a Phaëton appears,
45 That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to spare,
46 Though fit to drown him in her tears:
47 Else might th'ambitious Nymph aspire,
48 To set, like him, Heav'n too on fire.
V. E. of ROCHESTER.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: On Silence. [from The Works (1736)]
I
1 Silence! coeval with Eternity;
2 Thou wert, e'er Nature's self began to be,
3 'Twas one vast Nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee.
II
4 Thine was the sway, e'er heav'n was form'd, or earth,
5 E'er fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth,
6 Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.
III
7 Then various elements, against thee join'd,
8 In one more various animal combin'd,
9 And fram'd the clam'rous race of busy Human-kind.
[Page 193]
IV
10 The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low,
11 'Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show,
12 And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.
V
13 But rebel Wit deserts thee oft' in vain;
14 Lost in the maze of words, he turns again,
15 And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentler reign.
VI
16 Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free,
17 Oppress'd with argumental tyranny,
18 And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.
VII
19 With thee in private modest Dulness lies,
20 And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise;
21 Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wife!
VIII
22 Yet thy indulgence is by both confest;
23 Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast,
24 And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest.
IX
25 Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name,
26 The only honour of the wishing dame;
27 Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame.
[Page 194]
X
28 But could'st thou seize some tongues that now are free,
29 How Church and State would be oblig'd to thee?
30 At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would'st thou be?
XI
31 Yet speech ev'n there, submissively withdraws
32 From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause:
33 Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy Laws.
XII
34 Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,
35 What Fav'rites gain, and what the Nation owes,
36 Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.
XIII
37 The country wit, religion of the town,
38 The courtier's learning, policy o'th' gown,
39 Are best by thee express'd, and shine in thee alone.
XIV
40 The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry,
41 Lord's quibble, critic's jest; all end in thee,
42 All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.
[Page 195]
VI. E. of DORSET.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Artimesia. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Tho' Artimesia talks, by fits,
2 Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;
3 Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke:
4 Yet in some things methinks she fails,
5 'Twere well if she would pare her nails,
6 And wear a cleaner smock.
7 Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
8 Such nastiness, and so much pride
9 Are odly join'd by fate:
10 On her large squab you find her spread,
11 Like a fat corpse upon a bed,
12 That lies and stinks in state.
13 She wears no colours (sign of grace)
14 On any part except her face;
15 All white and black beside:
16 Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
17 Her voice theatrically loud,
18 And masculine her stride.
[Page 196]
19 So have I seen, in black and white
20 A prating thing, a Magpy hight,
21 Majestically stalk;
22 A stately, worthless animal,
23 That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
24 All flutter, pride, and talk.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: Phryne. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Phryne had talents for mankind,
2 Open she was, and unconfin'd,
3 Like some free port of trade:
4 Merchants unloaded here their freight,
5 And Agents from each foreign state,
6 Here first their entry made.
7 Her learning and good breeding such,
8 Whether th'Italian or the Dutch,
9 Spaniard or French came to her;
10 To all obliging she'd appear:
11 'Twas si Signior, 'twas yaw Mynheer,
12 'Twas s'il vous plaist, Monsieur.
13 Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
14 Still changing names, religions, climes,
15 At length she turns a Bride:
16 In di'monds, pearls, and rich brocades,
17 She shines the first of batter'd jades,
18 And flutters in her pride.
[Page 197]
19 So have I known those Insects fair
20 (Which curious Germans hold so rare,)
21 Still vary shapes and dyes;
22 Still gain new Titles with new forms;
23 First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
24 Then painted butterflies.
VII. Dr. SWIFT.
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: The Happy Life of a Country Parson. [from The Works (1736)]
1 Parson, these things in thy possessing,
2 Are better than the Bishop's blessing.
3 A Wife that makes conserves; a Steed
4 That carries double when there's need:
5 October, store, and best Virginia,
6 Tythe-Pig, and mortuary Guinea:
7 Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
8 For which thy Patron's weekly thank'd:
9 A large Concordance, bound long since:
10 Sermons to Charles the First, when Prince;
11 A Chronicle of ancient standing;
12 A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in.
13 The Polyglott---three parts,---my text,
14 Howbeit,---likewise---now to my next,
[Page 198]
15 Lo here the Septuagint,---and Paul,
16 To sum the whole,---the close of all.
17 He that has these, may pass his life,
18 Drink with the 'Squire, and kiss his wife;
19 On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
20 And fast on Fridays,---if he will;
21 Toast Church and Queen, explain the News,
22 Talk with Church-Wardens about Pews,
23 Pray heartily for some new Gift,
24 And shake his head at Doctor S---t.
FINIS.
VOL. IV.
Containing the DUNCIAD,
WITH THE Prolegomena of Scriblerus, AND
Notes Variorum.
[Page 69]
Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744: THE DUNCIAD:
TO Dr. JONATHAN SWIFT. [from The Works (1736)]
[Book I.]
[Footnote: 4Kb]
Argument to Book the First.
The Proposition, the Invocation, and the Inscription.
Then the Original of the great Empire of Dulness,
and cause of the continuance thereof. The beloved
seat of the Goddess is described, with her
chief attendants and officers, her functions, operations,
and effects. 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 Tibbald to be the instrument of
that great event which is the Subject of the poem.
He is described pensive in his study, giving up the
[Page 70]
cause, and apprehending the period of her empire
from the old age of the present monarch Settle:
Wherefore debating whether to betake himself to
Law or Politicks, 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 in person 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 Settle that night, anoints, and proclaims him Successor.
1 [Footnote: 3Kb] Books and the Man I sing, the first who brings
2 [Footnote: 1Kb] The Smithfield Muses to the Ear of Kings.
[Page 71]
3 [Footnote: 1Kb] Say great Patricians! (since your selves inspire
4 These wond'rous works: so Jove and Fate require)
[Page 72]
5 Say from what cause, in vain decry'd and curst,
6 [Footnote: 1Kb] Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first.
[Page 73]
7 In eldest time, e'er mortals writ or read,
8 E're Pallas issu'd from the Thund'rer's head,
[Page 74]
9 Dulness o'er all possess'd her antient right,
10 [Footnote: 1Kb] Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:
11 Fate in their dotage this fair ideot gave,
12 Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave,
13 Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,
14 She rul'd in native Anarchy, the mind.
15 Still her old empire to confirm, she tries,
16 For born a Goddess, Dulness never dies.
17 O Thou! whatever Title please thine ear,
18 Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver,
19 Whether thou chuse Cervantes' serious air,
20 Or laugh and shake in Rab'lais easy Chair,
21 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or praise the Court, or magnify Mankind,
22 Or thy griev'd Country's copper chains unbind;
[Page 75]
23 [Footnote: 1Kb] From thy Bæotia tho' Her Pow'r retires,
24 [Footnote: 1Kb] Grieve not, my Swift at ought our realm acquires,
25 Here pleas'd behold her mighty wings out-spread,
26 [Footnote: 1Kb] To hatch a new Saturnian Age of Lead.
27 [Footnote: 1Kb] Where wave the tatter'd ensigns of Rag-fair,
28 [Footnote: 3Kb] A yawning ruin hangs and nods in air;
[Page 76]
29 Keen, hollow winds howl thro' the bleak recess,
30 Emblem of Music caus'd by Emptiness.
31 Here in one bed two shiv'ring Sisters lye,
32 The Cave of Poverty and Poetry.
[Page 77]
33 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] This, the Great Mother dearer held than all
34 The clubs of Quidnunc's, or her own Guild-hall.
35 Here stood her Opium, here she nurs'd her Owls,
36 And destin'd here the imperial seat of fools.
37 Hence springs each weekly Muse, the living boast
38 [Footnote: 1Kb] Of Curl's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post,
[Page 78]
39 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lay,
40 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hence the soft sing-song on Cecilia's day,
41 [Footnote: 1Kb] Sepulchral Lyes, our holy walls to grace,
42 And New-year Odes, and all the Grubstreet race.
43 [Footnote: 1Kb] 'Twas here in clouded majesty she shone;
44 Four guardian Virtues, round, support her throne;
[Page 79]
45 [Footnote: 1Kb] Fierce champion Fortitude, that knows no fears
46 Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears:
47 Calm Temperance, whose blessings those partake
48 [Footnote: 2Kb] Who hunger, and who thirst, for scribling sake:
[Page 80]
49 Prudence, whose glass presents th'approaching jayl:
50 Poetic Justice; with her lifted scale;
51 Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,
52 And solid pudding against empty praise.
53 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here she beholds the Chaos dark and deep,
54 Where, nameless Somethings in their causes sleep,
[Page 81]
55 Till genial Jacob, or a warm Third-day
56 Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:
57 How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,
58 How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry,
59 Maggots half-form'd, in rhyme exactly meet,
60 And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.
61 [Footnote: 2Kb] Here one poor word a hundred clenches makes,
62 [Footnote: 1Kb] And ductile dulness new meanders takes;
[Page 82]
63 There motley Images her fancy strike,
64 Figures ill-pair'd, and Similies unlike.
65 She sees a Mob of Metaphors advance,
66 Pleas'd with the madness of the mazy dance:
67 How Tragedy and Comedy embrace;
68 [Footnote: 1Kb] How Farce and Epic get a jumbled race;
69 How Time himself stands still at her command,
70 Realms shift their place, and Ocean turns to land.
71 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here gay Description Ægypt glads with show'rs,
72 Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flow'rs;
[Page 83]
73 Glitt'ring with ice here hoary hills are seen,
74 There painted vallies of eternal green,
75 On cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
76 And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
77 [Footnote: 1Kb] All these and more, the cloud-compelling Queen
78 Beholds thro' fogs, that magnify the scene:
79 She, tinsel'd o'er in robes of varying hues,
80 With self-applause her wild creation views,
81 Sees momentary monsters rise and fall,
82 And with her own fools-colours gilds them all.
83 [Footnote: 1Kb] 'Twas on the day, when Thorold, rich and grave,
84 Like Cimon triumph'd both on land and wave:
[Page 84]
85 (Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces,
86 [Footnote: 1Kb] Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces)
87 Now Night descending, the proud scene was o'er,
88 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 2Kb] But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.
[Page 85]
89 Now May'rs and Shrieves all hush'd and satiate lay,
90 Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day;
91 While pensive Poets painful vigils keep,
92 Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.
93 Much to the mindful Queen the feast recalls
94 What City Swans once sung within the walls;
[Page 86]
95 Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,
96 [Footnote: 1Kb] And sure succession down from Heywood's days.
97 She saw with joy the line immortal run,
98 Each sire imprest and glaring in his son;
99 So watchful Bruin forms with plastic care
100 Each growing lump, and brings it to a Bear.
101 [Footnote: 2Kb] She saw old Pryn in restless Daniel shine,
102 [Footnote: 4Kb] And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless line;
[Page 87]
103 She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page,
104 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 8Kb] And all the mighty Mad in Dennis rage.
[Page 88]
105 In each she marks her image full exprest,
106 [Footnote: 4Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] But chief, in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast;
[Page 89]
107 Sees Gods with Dæmons in strange league ingage,
108 And earth, and heav'n, and hell her battles wage.
[Page 90]
109 [Footnote: 2Kb] She ey'd the Bard, where supperless he sate,
110 And pin'd, unconscious of his rising fate;
[Page 91]
111 Studious he sate, with all his books around,
112 Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!
[Page 92]
113 Plung'd for his sense, but found no bottom there;
114 Then writ, and flounder'd on, in mere despair.
[Page 93]
115 [Footnote: 1Kb] He roll'd his eyes that witness'd huge dismay,
116 Where yet unpawn'd, much learned lumber lay:
[Page 94]
117 [Footnote: 1Kb] Volumes, whose size the space exactly fill'd,
118 Or which fond authors were so good to gild,
119 Or where, by sculpture made for ever known,
120 [Footnote: 1Kb] The page admires new beauties, not its own.
[Page 95]
121 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great:
122 [Footnote: 1Kb] There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines compleat:
[Page 96]
123 Here all his suff'ring brotherhood retire,
124 And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire;
[Page 97]
125 A Gothic Vatican! of Greece and Rome
126 [Footnote: 1Kb] Well purg'd, and worthy Withers, Quarles, and Blome.
127 But high above, more solid Learning shone,
128 The Classics of an Age that heard of none;
129 [Footnote: 3Kb] There Caxton slept, with Wynkin at his side,
130 One clasp'd in wood, and one in strong cow-hide,
[Page 98]
131 There, sav'd by spice, like mummies, many a year,
132 Old Bodies of Philosophy appear:
133 [Footnote: 1Kb] De Lyra there a dreadful front extends,
134 [Footnote: 1Kb] And here, the groaning shelves Philemon bends.
[Page 99]
135 Of these, twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size,
136 Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pyes,
137 Inspir'd he seizes: These an altar raise:
138 An hecatomb of pure, unsully'd lays
139 That altar crowns: A folio Common place
140 Founds the whole pyle, of all his works the base;
141 Quarto's, octavo's, shape the less'ning pyre;
142 [Footnote: 1Kb] And last, a little Ajax tips the spire.
143 Then he. Great Tamer of all human art!
144 First in my care, and nearest at my heart:
145 Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend,
146 [Footnote: 1Kb] With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end!
[Page 100]
147 O thou, of business the directing soul,
148 To human heads like byass to the bowl,
149 Which as more pond'rous makes their aim more true,
150 Obliquely wadling to the mark in view.
151 O ever gracious to perplex'd mankind!
152 Who spread a healing mist before the mind,
153 And, lest we err by Wit's wild, dancing light,
154 Secure us kindly in our native night.
155 Ah! still o'er Britain stretch that peaceful wand,
156 Which lulls th'Helvetian and Batavian land;
157 Where rebel to thy throne if Science rise,
158 She does but shew her coward face and dies;
159 There, thy good Scholiasts with unweary'd pains
160 Make Horace flat, and humble Maro's strains:
161 Here studious I unlucky moderns save,
162 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor sleeps one error in its father's grave,
[Page 101]
163 Old puns restore, lost blunders nicely seek,
164 [Footnote: 2Kb] And crucify poor Shakespear once a week.
165 For thee I dim these eves, and stuff this head,
166 [Footnote: 1Kb] With all such reading as was never read;
[Page 102]
167 For thee supplying, in the worst of days,
168 [Footnote: 1Kb] Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays;
169 For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
170 And write about it, Goddess, and about it;
171 So spins the silk-worm small its slender store,
172 And labours, 'till it clouds itself all o'er.
173 Not that my quill to Critiques was confin'd,
174 My Verse gave ampler lessons to mankind;
175 So gravest precepts may successless prove,
176 But sad examples never fail to move.
177 [Footnote: 1Kb] As forc'd from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
178 And pond'rous slugs cut swiftly thro' the sky:
179 As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe,
180 The wheels above urg'd by the load below;
[Page 103]
181 Me, emptiness and dulness could inspire,
182 And were my clasticity and fire.
183 [Footnote: 1Kb] Had Heav'n decreed such works a longer date,
184 Heav'n had decreed to spare the Grubstreet state.
185 But see great Settle to the dust descend,
186 And all thy cause and empire at an end!
187 [Footnote: 1Kb] Cou'd Troy be sav'd by any single hand,
188 His gray-goose weapon must have made her stand.
189 [Footnote: 1Kb] But what can I? my Flaccus cast aside,
190 [Footnote: 1Kb] Take up th'Attorney's (once my better) guide?
191 [Footnote: 2Kb] Or rob the Roman geese of all their glories,
192 And save the state by cackling to the Tories?
193 Yes, to my Country I my pen consign,
194 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yes, from this moment, mighty Mist! am thine,
[Page 104]
195 And rival, Curtius! of thy fame and zeal,
196 O'er head and ears plunge for the publick weal.
197 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Adieu my children! better thus expire
198 Unstall'd, unsold, thus glorious mount in fire
[Page 105]
199 Fair without spot; than greas'd by grocer's hands,
200 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or ship'd with Ward to ape and monkey lands,
201 Or wafting ginger, round the streets to go,
202 [Footnote: 1Kb] And visit alehouse where ye first did grow.
203 [Footnote: 1Kb] With that, he lifted thrice the sparkling brand,
204 And thrice he dropt it from his quiv'ring hand:
205 Then lights the structure, with averted eyes;
206 The rowling smokes involve the sacrifice.
[Page 106]
207 The opening clouds disclose each work by turns,
208 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Now flames old Memnon, now Rodrigo burns,
[Page 107]
209 In one quick flash see Proserpine expire,
210 [Footnote: 1Kb] And last, his own cold Æschylus took fire.
211 Then gush'd the tears, as from the Trojan's eyes
212 [Footnote: 2Kb] When the last blaze sent Ilion to the skies.
[Page 108]
213 Rowz'd by the light, old Dulness heav'd the head;
214 [Footnote: 1Kb] Then snatch'd a sheet of Thulè from her bed,
215 Sudden she flies, and whelms it o're the pyre.
216 Down sink the flames and with a hiss expire.
217 Her ample presence fills up all the place;
218 A veil of fogs dilates her awful face:
[Page 109]
219 [Footnote: 1Kb] Great in her charms! as when on Shrieves and May'rs
220 She looks, and breathes her self into their airs.
221 [Footnote: 1Kb] She bids him wait her to the sacred Dome;
222 Well-pleas'd he enter'd, and confess'd his home:
223 So Spirits ending their terrestrial race,
224 Ascend and recognize their native place.
225 Raptur'd, he gazes round the dear retreat,
226 [Footnote: 1Kb] And in sweet numbers celebrates the seat.
[Page 110]
227 Here to her Chosen all her works she shews;
228 Prose swell'd to verse, Verse loitring into prose;
229 How random thoughts now meaning chance to find,
230 Now leave all memory of sense behind:
231 How prologues into prefaces decay,
232 And these to notes are fritter'd quite away.
233 How index-learning turns no student pale,
234 Yet holds the eel of science by the tail.
235 How, with less reading than makes felons 'scape,
236 Less human genius than God gives an ape,
237 Small thanks to France, and none to Rome or Greece,
238 A past, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new piece,
239 'Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Congreve, and Corneille,
240 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 3Kb] Can make a Cibber, Johnson, or Ozell.
[Page 111]
241 The Goddess then, o'er his anointed head,
242 With mystic words, the sacred Opium shed;
[Page 112]
243 And lo! her bird, a monster of a fowl!
244 [Footnote: 1Kb] Something betwixt a Heideggre and owl,
245 Perch'd on his crown. All hail! and hail again,
246 My son! the promis'd land expects thy reign.
247 Know, Settle cloy'd with custard, and with praise,
248 Is gather'd to the dull of antient days,
[Page 113]
249 Safe, where no Critics damn, no duns molest,
250 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Where wretched Withers, Banks, and Gildon rest,
251 [Footnote: 1Kb] And high-born Howard, more majestic sire,
252 [Footnote: 1Kb] Impatient waits, till --- grace the quire.
253 I see a Chief, who leads my chosen sons,
254 All arm'd with points, antitheses and puns!
255 I see a Monarch, proud my race to own!
256 [Footnote: 1Kb] A Nursing-mother, born to rock the throne!
[Page 114]
257 Schools, courts, and senates shall my laws obey,
258 Till Albion, as Hibernia, bless my sway.
259 She ceas'd: her owls responsive clap the wing,
260 And Grubstreet garrets roar, God save the king.
261 So when Jove's block descended from on high,
262 [Footnote: 3Kb] (As sings thy great forefather, Ogilby,)
[Page 115]
263 Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog,
264 And the hoarse nation croak'd, God save King Log
[Page 116]
The End of the First Book.
[Page 117]
[Book II.]
[Footnote: 2Kb]
Argument to Book the Second.
The King being proclaimed, the solemnity is graced with
publick games and sports of various kinds; not instituted
by the Hero, as by Æneas 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 by the Gods, and as Thetis herself appearing
according to Homer Odyss. 24. proposed the
prizes in honour of her son Achilles.) Hither flock
the Poets and Criticks, 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
[Page 118]
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 authors. 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.
1 [Footnote: 1Kb] High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shone
2 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Henley's gilt tub, or Fleckno's Irish throne,
[Page 119]
3 [Footnote: 1Kb] Or that, where on her Curls the public pours,
4 All-bounteous, fragrant grains, and golden show'rs:
[Page 120]
5 Great Tibbald nods: The proud Parnassian sneer,
6 The conscious simper, and the jealous leer,
7 Mix on his look. All eyes direct their rays
8 On him, and crowds grow foolish as they gaze.
9 Not with more glee, by hands pontific crown'd,
10 With scarlet hats, wide waving, circled round,
11 [Footnote: 2Kb] Rome in her capitol saw Querno sit,
12 Thron'd on sev'n hills, the Antichrist of wit.
[Page 121]
13 To grace this honour'd day, the Queen proclaims
14 By herald hawkers, high heroic games.
15 She summons all her sons: An endless band
16 Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land;
17 A motley mixture! in long wigs, in bags,
18 In silks, in crapes, in garters, and in rags,
19 From drawing rooms, from colleges, from garrets,
20 On horse, on foot, in hacks, and gilded chariots,
21 All who true dunces in her cause appear'd,
22 And all who knew those dunces to reward.
23 Amid that Area wide she took her stand,
24 Where the tall May-pole once o'er look'd the Strand.
25 But now, so Anne and Piety ordain,
26 A church collects the saints of Drury-lane.
[Page 122]
27 With authors, Sationers obey'd the call,
28 The field of glory is a field for all;
29 Glory, and gain, th'industrious tribe provoke;
30 And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.
31 [Footnote: 1Kb] A Poet's form she plac'd before their eyes,
32 And bad the nimblest racer seize the prize;
33 No meagre, muse-rid mope, adust and thin,
34 In a dun night-gown of his own loose skin,
35 [Footnote: 1Kb] But such a bulk as no twelve bards could raise,
36 Twelve starveling bards of these degen'rate days.
37 All as a partridge plump, full-fed, and fair,
38 She form'd this image of well-bodied air,
[Page 123]
39 With pert flat eyes she window'd well its head,
40 A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead,
41 And empty words she gave, and sounding strain,
42 But senseless, lifeless! idol void and vain!
43 [Footnote: 1Kb] Never was dash'd out, at one lucky hit,
44 A fool, so just a copy of a wit;
45 So like, that critics said, and courtiers swore,
46 [Footnote: 3Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] A Wit it was, and call'd the phantom More.
[Page 124]
47 All gaze with ardour: some, a poet's name,
48 Others, a sword-knot and lac'd suit inflame.
[Page 125]
49 [Footnote: 1Kb] But lofty Lintot in the circle rose;
50 "This prize is mine; who tempt it, are my foes:
51 "With me began this genius, and shall end."
52 He spoke, and who with Lintot shall contend!
53 Fear held them mute. Alone untaught to fear
54 [Footnote: 3Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Stood dauntless Curl, "Behold that rival here!
[Page 126]
55 "The race by vigor, not by vaunts is won;
56 [Footnote: 1Kb] "So take the hindmost Hell---He said, and run.
[Page 127]
57 Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind,
58 He left huge Lintot, and out-strip'd the wind.
59 As when a dab-chick waddles thro' the copse,
60 [Footnote: 1Kb] On feet, and wings, and flies, and wades, and hops;
61 So lab'ring on, with shoulders, hands, and head,
62 Wide as a windmill all his figure spread,
63 With legs expanded Bernard urg'd the race,
64 And seem'd to emulate great Jacob's pace.
[Page 128]
65 Full in the middle way there stood a lake,
66 [Footnote: 1Kb] Which Curl's Corinna chanc'd that morn to make:
[Page 129]
67 (Such was her won't, at early drawn to drop
68 Her evening cates before his neighbour's shop,)
69 [Footnote: 1Kb] Here fortun'd Curl to slide; loud shout the band,
70 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Bernard! Bernard! rings thro' all the Strand.
71 [Footnote: 3Kb] Obscene with filth the miscreant lies bewray'd,
72 Fal'n in the plash his wickedness had laid:
[Page 130]
73 Then first (if poets aught of truth declare)
74 The caitiff Vaticide conceiv'd a prayer.
75 Hear Jove! whose name my bards and I adore,
76 As much at least as any God's, or more;
77 And him and his if more devotion warms,
78 [Footnote: 1Kb] Down with the Bible, up with the Pope's Arms.
[Page 131]
79 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] A place there is, betwixt earth, air and seas,
80 Where from Ambrosia, Jove retires for ease.
81 There in his seat two spacious vents appear,
82 On this he sits to that he leans his ear,
83 And hears the various vows of fond mankind,
84 Some beg an eastern; some a western wind:
85 All vain petitions, mounting to the sky;
86 With reams abundant this abode supply;
87 Amus'd he reads, and then returns the bills
88 [Footnote: 1Kb] Sign'd with that Ichor which from Gods distils.
89 [Footnote: 1Kb] In office here fair Cloacina stands,
90 And ministers to Jove with purest hands;
[Page 132]
91 Forth from the heap she pick'd her vot'ry's pray'r,
92 And plac'd it next him, a distinction rare!
93 [Footnote: 1Kb] (Oft, as he fish'd her nether realms for wit,
94 The Goddess favour'd him, and favours yet.)
95 Renew'd by ordure's sympathetic force,
96 [Footnote: 1Kb] As oil'd with magic juices for the course,
97 Vig'rous he rises, from th'effluvia strong
98 Imbibes new-life and scours and stinks along:
99 Re-passes Lintot, vindicates the race,
100 Nor heeds the brown dishonours of his face.
101 And now the victor stretch'd stretch'd his eager hand
102 Where the tall Nothing stood, or seem'd to stand;
103 [Footnote: 1Kb] A shapeless shade, it melted from his sight,
104 Like forms in clouds, or visions of the night!
[Page 133]
105 [Footnote: 1Kb] To seize his papers, Curl, was next thy care;
106 [Footnote: 1Kb] His papers light, fly diverse, tost in air:
107 Songs, sonnets, epigrams the winds uplift,
108 And whisk 'em back to Evans, Younge, and Swift.
109 Th'embroider'd suit, at least, he deem'd his prey;
110 [Footnote: 1Kb] That suit, an unpay'd taylor snatch'd away!
[Page 134]
111 No rag, no scrap, of all the beau, or wit,
112 That once so flutter'd, and that once so writ.
113 Heav'n rings with laughter: Of the laughter vain,
114 Dulness, good Queen, repeats the jest again.
115 Three wicked imps of her own Grubstreet choir
116 [Footnote: 1Kb] She deck'd like Congreve, Addison and Prior;
117 [Footnote: 1Kb] Mears, Warner, Wilkins run: delusive thought!
118 [Footnote: 2Kb] Breval, Besaleel, Bond, the varlets caught.
119 Curl stretches after Gay, but Gay is gone,
120 [Footnote: 1Kb] He grasps an empty Joseph for a John:
[Page 135]
121 So Proteus, hunted in a nobler shape,
122 Became, when seiz'd, a puppy, or an ape.
123 To him the Goddess. Son! thy grief lay down,
124 [Footnote: 1Kb] And turn this whole illusion on the town.
125 As the sage dame, experienc'd in her trade,
126 By names of Toasts retails each batter'd jade,
127 (Whence hapless Monsieur much complains at Paris
128 Of wrongs from Duchesses and Lady Mary's)
129 Be thine, my stationer! this magic gift;
130 [Footnote: 2Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Cook shall be Prior, and Concanen, Swift;
[Page 136]
131 So shall each hostile name become our own,
132 [Footnote: 3Kb] And we too boast our Garth and Addison.
[Page 137]
133 [Footnote: 2Kb] With that, she gave him (piteous of his case,
134 [Footnote: 5Kb] Yet smiling at his ruful length of face.)
[Page 138]
135 [Footnote: 1Kb] A shaggy tap'stry, worthy to be spread
136 [Footnote: 2Kb] On Codrus' old, or Dunton's modern bed;
[Page 139]
137 Instructive work! whose wry mouth'd portraiture
138 Display'd the sates her confessors endure.
[Page 140]
139 Ear-less on high, stood un-abash'd Defoe,
140 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Tuchin flagrant from the scourge, below:
[Page 141]
141 [Footnote: 1Kb] There Ridpath, Roper, cudgell'd might ye view,
142 The very worsted still look'd black and blue:
[Page 142]
143 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Himself among the storied Chiefs he spies,
144 As from the blanket high in air he flies,
145 And oh! (he cry'd) what street, what lane but knows
146 Our purgings, pumpings, blanketings and blows?
[Page 143]
147 In ev'ry loom our labours shall be seen,
148 [Footnote: 1Kb] And the fresh vomit run for ever green!
149 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 2Kb] See in the circle next, Eliza plac'd;
150 [Footnote: 1Kb] Two babes of love close clinging to her waste;
[Page 244]
151 Fair as before her works she stands confess'd,
152 [Footnote: 1Kb] In flow'rs and pearls by bounteous Kirkall dress'd.
153 The Goddess then: "Who best can send on high
154 "The salient spout, far-streaming to the sky:
155 [Footnote: 1Kb] "His be yon Juno of majestic size,
156 "With cow like udders, and with ox-like eyes.
[Page 145]
157 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] "This China-Jordan, let the chief o'ercome
158 "Replenish, not ingloriously, at home.
159 [Footnote: 1Kb] Chapman and Curl accept the glorious strife,
160 (Tho' one his son dissuades, and one his wife)
161 [Footnote: 1Kb] This on his manly confidence relies,
162 That on his vigour and superior size.
163 First Chapman lean'd against his letter'd post;
164 It rose, and labour'd to a curve at most.
[Page 146]
165 [Footnote: 1Kb] So Jove's bright bow displays its watry round,
166 (Sure sign, that no spectator shall be drown'd)
167 A second effort brought but new disgrace,
168 The wild Mæander wash'd the Artist's face:
169 Thus the small jett which hasty hands unlock,
170 Spirts in the gardner's eyes who turns the cock.
171 Not so from shameless Curl; impetuous spread
172 The stream, and smoaking, flourish'd o'er his head.
173 [Footnote: 1Kb] So, (fam'd like thee for turbulence and horns,)
174 Eridanus his humble fountain scorns;
175 [Footnote: 3Kb] Thro' half the heav'ns he pours th'exalted urn;
176 His rapid waters in their passage burn.
[Page 147]
177 Swift as it mounts, all follow with their eyes;
178 Still happy Impudence obtains the prize.
[Page 148]
179 [Footnote: 2Kb] Thou triumph'st, Victor of the high-wrought day,
180 And the pleas'd dame, soft-smiling leads away.
181 Chapman, thro' perfect modesty o'ercome,
182 Crown'd with the Jordan, walks contented home.
[Page 149]
183 But now for Authors nobler palms remain;
184 Room for my Lord! three Jockeys in his train:
185 Six huntsmen with a shout precede his chair;
186 He grins, and looks broad nonsense with a stare.
187 His honour'd meaning Dulness thus exprest;
188 "He wins this Patron who can tickle best.
189 He chinks his purse, and takes his seat of state:
190 With ready quills the Dedicators wait,
191 Now at his head the dext'rous task commence,
192 And instant, fancy feels th'imputed sense;
193 Now gentle touches wanton o'er his face,
194 He struts Adonis, and affects grimace:
195 [Footnote: 1Kb] Rolli the feather to his ear conveys,
196 Then his nice taste directs our Opera's:
197 [Footnote: 4Kb] Bentley his mouth with classic flatt'ry opes,
198 And the puff'd orator bursts out in tropes.
[Page 150]
199 [Footnote: 2Kb] But Welsted most the poet's healing balm
200 Strives to extract, from his soft, giving palm;
[Page 151]
201 Unlucky Welsted! thy unfeeling master,
202 The more thou ticklest, gripes his fist the faster.
[Page 152]
203 While thus each hand promotes the pleasing pain,
204 And quick sensations skip from vein to vein,
205 [Footnote: 1Kb] A youth unknown to Phoebus, in despair,
206 Puts his last refuge all in heav'n and pray'r.
207 What force have pious vows? the Queen of Love
208 His Sister sends, her vot'ress, from above.
209 As taught by Venus, Paris learnt the art
210 To touch Achilles' only tender part;
211 Secure, thro' her, the noble prize to carry,
212 He marches off, his Grace's Secretary,
[Page 153]
213 Now turn to diff'rent sports (the Goddess cries)
214 And learn, my sons, the wond'rous pow'r of Noise.
215 [Footnote: 1Kb] To move, to raise, to ravish ev'ry heart,
216 With Shakespear's nature, or with Johnson's art,
217 Let others aim: 'Tis yours to shake the soul
218 [Footnote: 1Kb] With Thunder rumbling from the mustard bowl,
219 With horns and trumpets now to madness swell,
220 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now sink in sorrows with a tolling Bell.
[Page 154]
221 Such happy arts attention can command,
222 When fancy flags, and sense is at a stand.
223 [Footnote: 1Kb] Improve we these. Three Cat-calls be the bribe,
224 Of him, whose chatt'ring shames the Monkey tribe,
225 And his this Drum, whose hoarse heroic base
226 Drowns the loud clarion of the braying Ass.
227 Now thousand tongues are heard in one loud din:
228 The Monkey-mimicks rush disordant in:
229 'Twas chatt'ring, grinnning, mouthing, jabb'ring all,
230 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Noise, and Norton, Brangling, and Breval,
231 Dennis, and Dissonance; and captious art,
232 And snip-snap short, and interruption smart.
[Page 155]
233 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hold (cry'd the Queen) A Cat-call each shall win,
234 Equal your merits! equal is your din!
235 But that this well-disputed game may end,
236 Sound forth, my Brayers, and the welkin rend.
237 [Footnote: 1Kb] As when the long-ear'd milky mothers wait
238 At some sick miser's triple-bolted gate,
239 For their defrauded, absent foals they make
240 A moan so loud, that all the Guild awake;
241 Sore sighs Sir Gilbert, starting, at the bray,
242 From dreams of millions, and three groats to pay!
243 So swells each wind-pipe; Ass intones to Ass,
244 Harmonic twang, of leather, horn, and brass;
245 Such, as from lab'ring lungs th'Enthusiast blows,
246 High sounds, attempted to the vocal nose.
247 But far o'er all, sonorous Blackmore's strain;
248 [Footnote: 1Kb] Walls, steeples, skies, bray back to him again:
[Page 156]
249 In Tot'nam fields, the brethren with amaze
250 [Footnote: 1Kb] Prick all their ears up, and forget to graze;
251 [Footnote: 1Kb] Long Chanc'ry-lane retentive rolls the sound,
252 And courts to courts return it round and round:
253 Thames wasts it thence to Rufus' roaring hall,
254 And Hungerford re-ecchoes bawl for bawl.
255 All hail him victor in both gifts of song,
256 [Footnote: 6Kb] Who sings so loudly, and who sings so long.
[Page 157]
257 This labour past, by Bridewell all descend,
258 [Footnote: 2Kb] (As morning-pray'r and flagellation end)
259 To where Fleet-ditch with disemboguing streams
260 Rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to Thames,
[Page 158]
261 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] The King of dykes! than whom no sluice of mud
262 With deeper sable blots the silver flood.
[Page 159]
263 "Here strip my children! here at once leap in!
264 [Footnote: 1Kb] "Here prove who best can dash thro' thick and thin,
[Page 160]
265 "And who the most in love of dirt excel,
266 "Or dark dexterity of groping well.
267 "Who flings most filth, and wide pollutes around
268 [Footnote: 1Kb] "The stream, be his the Weekly Journals bound;
[Page 161]
269 "A pig of lead to him who dives the best:
270 [Footnote: 1Kb] "A peck of coals a-piece shall glad the rest.
271 [Footnote: 4Kb] In naked majesty Oldmixon stands,
272 And Milo-like, surveys his arms and hands,
[Page 162]
273 Then sighing, thus. "And am I now threescore?
274 "Ah why, ye Gods! should two and two make four?
[Page 163]
275 He said, and climb'd a stranded Lighter's height,
276 Shot to the black abyss, and plung'd down-right.
277 The Senior's judgment all the crowd admire,
278 Who but to sink the deeper, rose the higher.
279 [Footnote: 2Kb] Next Smedley div'd; slow circles dimpled o'er
280 The quaking mud, that clos'd, and op'd no more.
281 [Footnote: 1Kb] All look, all sigh, and call on Smedley lost;
282 Smedley in vain resounds thro' all the coast.
[Page 164]
283 [Footnote: 1Kb] Then --- essay'd; scarce vanish'd out of sight,
284 He buoys up instant, and returns to light:
285 He bears no token of the sabler streams,
286 And mounts far off among the Swans of Thames,
287 [Footnote: 2Kb] True to the bottom, see Concanen creep,
288 A cold, long-winded, native of the deep!
289 If perseverance gain the Diver's prize,
290 [Footnote: 1Kb] Not everlasting Blackmore this denies:
[Page 165]
291 No noise, no stir, no motion can'st thou make,
292 Th'unconscious flood sleeps o'er thee like a lake.
293 [Footnote: 2Kb] Not so bold Arnall; with a weight of scull,
294 Furious he sinks, precipitately dull.
[Page 166]
295 Whirlpools and storms his circling arm invest,
296 With all the might of gravitation blest.
297 No crab more active in the dirty dance,
298 Downward to climb, and backward to advance.
299 He brings up half the bottom on his head,
300 And loudly claims the Journals and the Lead.
301 Sudden, a burst of thunder shook the flood:
302 [Footnote: 1Kb] Lo Smedley rose in majesty of mud!
[Page 167]
303 Shaking the horrors of his ample brows,
304 And each ferocious feature grim with ooze.
305 [Footnote: 1Kb] Greater he looks, and more than mortal stares;
306 Then thus the wonders of the deep declares.
307 First he relates, how sinking to the chin,
308 Smit with his mien, the mud-nymphs suck'd him in:
309 How young Lutetia, softer than the down,
310 Nigrina black, and Merdamante brown,
311 Vy'd for his love in jetty bow'rs below;
312 [Footnote: 1Kb] As Hylas fair was ravish'd long ago.
313 Then sung, how shown him by the nut-brown maids
314 [Footnote: 3Kb] A branch of Styx here rises from the Shades,
[Page 168]
315 That tinctur'd as it runs with Lethe's streams,
316 And wafting vapours from the land of Dreams,
317 (As under seas Alphæus' secret sluice
318 Bears Pisa's offerings to his Arethuse)
319 Pours into Thames: Each City bowl is full
320 Of the mixt wave, and all who drink grow dull
321 [Footnote: 1Kb] How to the banks where bards departed doze,
322 They led him soft; how all the bards arose,
[Page 169]
323 [Footnote: 1Kb] Taylor, sweet Swan of Thames, majestic bows,
324 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Shadwell nods the poppy on his brows;
325 [Footnote: 1Kb] While Milbourn there, deputed by the rest,
326 Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest;
327 And "Take (he said) these robes which once were mine,
328 "Dulness is sacred in a sound Divine.
[Page 170]
329 He ceas'd, and show'd the robe; the crowd confess
330 The rev'rend Flamen in his lengthen'd dress.
331 Slow moves the Goddess from the sable flood,
332 [Footnote: 1Kb] (Her Priest preceding) thro' the gates of Lud.
333 Her Critics there she summons, and proclaims
334 A gentler exercise to close the games.
335 Hear you! in whose grave heads, as equal scales,
336 I weigh what author's heaviness prevails;
337 Which most conduce to sooth the soul in slumbers,
338 My Henley's periods, or my Blackmore's numbers?
339 Attend the trial we propose to make:
340 If there be man who o'er such works can wake,
341 Sleep's all-subduing charms who dares defy,
342 [Footnote: 1Kb] And boasts Ulysses' ear with Argus' eye;
[Page 171]
343 To him we grant our amplest pow'rs to sit
344 Judge of all present, past, and future wit,
345 To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong,
346 Full, and eternal privilege of tongue.
347 Three Cambridge Sophs and three pert Templars came,
348 [Footnote: 1Kb] The same their talents, and their tastes the same,
349 Each prompt to query, answer, and debate,
350 [Footnote: 1Kb] And smit with love of Poesy and Prate,
351 The pond'rous books two gentle readers bring,
352 [Footnote: 1Kb] The heroes sit; the vulgar form a ring.
353 The clam'rous crowd is hush'd with mugs of Mum,
354 Till all tun'd equal, send a gen'ral hum.
355 Then mount the clerks, and in one lazy tone,
356 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thro' the long, heavy, painful page, drawl on;
[Page 172]
357 Soft creeping, words on words, the sense compose,
358 At ev'ry line, they stretch, they yawn, they doze.
359 As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low
360 Their heads, and lift them as they cease to blow;
361 Thus oft they rear, and oft the head decline,
362 As breathe, or pause, by fits, the airs divine:
363 And now to this side, now to that, they nod,
364 As verse, or prose, infuse the drowzy God.
365 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thrice Budgel aim'd to speak, but thrice supprest
366 By potent Arthur, knock'd his chin and breast.
367 [Footnote: 1Kb] Toland and Tindal, prompt at priests to jeer,
368 [Footnote: 1Kb] Yet silent bow'd to Christ's No kingdom here.
[Page 173]
369 Who sate the nearest, by the words o'ercome
370 Slept first, the distant nodded to the hum.
371 Then down are roll'd the books; stretch'd o'er 'em lies
372 Each gentle clerk, and mutt'ring seals his eyes.
373 At what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes,
374 One circle first, and then a second makes,
375 What Dulness dropt among her sons imprest
376 Like motion, from one circle to the rest;
377 So from the mid-most the nutation spreads
378 [Footnote: 1Kb] Round, and more round, o'er all the sea of heads.
[Page 174]
379 [Footnote: 1Kb] At last Centlivre felt her voice to fail,
380 Motteux himself unfinish'd left his tale,
381 [Footnote: 3Kb] Boyer the State, and Law the Stage gave o'er,
382 Nor Kelsey talk'd, nor Naso whisper'd more;
[Page 175]
383 [Footnote: 1Kb] Norton, from Daniel and Ostræa sprung,
384 Bless'd with his father's front, and mother's tongue,
385 Hung silent down his never-blushing head;
386 [Footnote: 1Kb] And all was hush'd, as Folly's self lay dead.
[Page 176]
387 Thus the soft gifts of Sleep conclude the day,
388 And stretch'd on bulks, as usual, Poets lay.
389 Why should I sing what bards the nightly Muse
390 Did slumbring visit, and convey to stews:
391 Who prouder march'd, with magistrates in state,
392 To some fam'd round-house, ever open gate:
393 How Laurus lay inspir'd beside a sink,
394 [Footnote: 2Kb] And to mere mortals seem'd a Priest in drink:
[Page 177]
395 [Footnote: 1Kb] While others, timely, to the neighbouring Fleet
396 (Haunt of the Muses) made their safe retreat.
End of the Second Book.
[Page 178]
[Book III.]
Argument to Book the Third.
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,
inamorato's, castle-builders, chymists and poets. He
is immediately carry'd on the wings of Fancy to the
Elyzian shade, where on the banks of Lethe the souls
of the dull are dipp'd 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 is himself destin'd
to perform. He takes him to a Mount of Vision,
from whence he shews him the past triumphs of the
Empire of Dulness, then the present, and lastly the future:
[Page 179]
How small a part of the world was ever conquer'd
by Science, how soon those conquests were stop'd, and those very nations again reduced to her dominion.
Then distinguishing the Island of Great Britain,
shews by what aids, and by what persons, it shall be
forthwith brought to her empire. These 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 surprizing 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
unmix'd with concern, that his own times were but
the types of these; He prophecies how first the nation
shall be over-run with Farces, Opera's, and Shows; and
the throne of Dulness advanced over both the Theatres;
Then how her sons shall preside in the seats of Arts
and sciences, till in conclusion all shall return to their
original Chaos: A scene, of which the present Action
of the Dunciad is but a Type on Foretaste, giving a
Glimpse or Pisgah-sight of the promis'd Fulness of her
Glory; the Accomplishment whereof will, in all probability,
hereafter be the Theme of many other and greater Dunciads.
[Page 180]
1 But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd,
2 On Dulness lap th'Anointed head repos'd.
3 Him close she curtain'd round with vapours blue,
4 And soft besprinkled with Cimmerian dew.
5 [Footnote: 1Kb] Then raptures high the seat of sense o'erflow,
6 Which only heads refin'd from reason know.
7 Hence, from the straw where Bedlam's Prophet nods,
8 [Footnote: 1Kb] He hears loud Oracles, and talks with Gods:
[Page 181]
9 Hence the Fool's paradise, the Statesman's scheme,
10 The air-built Castle, and the golden Dream,
11 The Maid's romantic wish, the Chymist's flame,
12 And Poet's vision of eternal fame.
13 And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd,
14 The King descended to th'Elyzian Shade.
15 [Footnote: 1Kb] There, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls,
16 [Footnote: 3Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Old Bavius sits, to dip poetic Souls,
[Page 182]
17 And blunt the sense, and fit it for a scull
18 Of solid proof, impenetrably dull:
19 Instant when dipt, away they wing their flight,
20 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Where Brown and Mears unbar the gates of Light,
[Page 183]
21 Demand new bodies, and in Calf's array,
22 Rush to the world, impatient for the day.
23 [Footnote: 1Kb] Millions and millions on these banks he views,
24 Thick as the stars of night, and morning dews,
25 As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly,
26 [Footnote: 2Kb] As thick as eggs at Ward in Pillory.
[Page 184]
27 Wond'ring he gaz'd: When lo! a Sage appears,
28 [Footnote: 2Kb] By his broad shoulders known, and length of ears,
[Page 185]
29 Known by the band and suit which Settle wore,
30 (His only suit) for twice three years before:
31 All as the vest, appear'd the wearers frame,
32 Old in new state, another yet the same.
33 Bland and familiar as in life, begun
34 Thus the great Father to the greater Son.
35 Oh born to see what none can see awake!
36 Behold the wonders of th'oblivious Lake.
37 Thou, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred shore;
38 The hand of Bavius drench'd thee o'er and o'er.
[Page 186]
39 But blind to former, as to future Fate,
40 What mortal knows his pre-existent state?
41 Who knows how long, thy transmigrating soul
42 [Footnote: 1Kb] Might from Boeotian to Boeotian roll!
43 How many Dutchmen she vouchsaf'd to thrid?
44 How many stages thro' old Monks she rid?
45 And all who since, in mild benighted days,
46 [Footnote: 1Kb] Mix'd the Owl's ivy with the Poet's bays?
47 As man's mæanders to the vital spring
48 Roll all their tydes, then back their circles bring;
49 Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain,
50 Suck the thread in, then yield it out again:
51 All nonsense thus, of old or modern date,
52 Shall in thee center, from thee circulate.
53 [Footnote: 1Kb] For this, our Queen unfolds to vision true
54 Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view:
[Page 187]
55 Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind
56 Shall first recall'd, rush forward to thy mind;
57 Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising reign,
58 And let the past and future fire thy brain.
59 Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands
60 Her boundless empire over seas and lands.
61 [Footnote: 1Kb] See round the Poles where keener spangles shine,
62 Where spices smoke beneath the burning Line,
63 (Earth's wide extreams) her sable flag display'd;
64 And all the nations cover'd in her shade!
65 [Footnote: 1Kb] Far eastward cast thine eye, from whence the Sun
66 And orient Science at a birth begun.
67 One god-like Monarch all that pride confounds,
68 He, whose long wall the wand'ring Tartar bounds.
69 [Footnote: 1Kb] Heav'ns! what a pile? whole ages perish there:
70 And one bright blaze turns Learning into air.
[Page 188]
71 Thence to the south extend thy gladden'd eyes;
72 There rival flames with equal glory rise,
73 [Footnote: 1Kb] From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll,
74 And lick up all their Physick of the soul.
75 How little, mark! that portion of the ball,
76 Where, faint at best, the beams of Science fall;
77 Soon as they dawn, from Hyperborean skies,
78 Embody'd dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!
79 Lo where Moeotis sleeps, and hardly flows
80 The freezing Tanais thro' a waste of snows,
81 The North by myriads pours her mighty sons,
82 Great nurse of Goths, of Alans, and of Huns.
83 See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame
84 Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name!
85 See, the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall;
86 See, the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul.
87 See, where the morning gilds the palmy shore
88 [Footnote: 1Kb] (The soil that arts and infant letters bore)
[Page 189]
89 His conqu'ring tribes th'Arabian prophet draws,
90 And saving Ignorance enthrones by Laws.
91 See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep;
92 And all the Western world believe and sleep.
93 [Footnote: 2Kb] Lo Rome her self, proud mistress now no more
94 Of arts, but thund'ring against heathen lore;
[Page 190]
95 Her gray-hair'd Synods damning books unread,
96 And Bacon trembling for his brazen head;
97 Padua with sighs beholds her Livy burn,
98 And ev'n th'Antipodes Vigilius mourn.
99 See, the Cirque falls, th'unpillar'd Temple nods,
100 Streets pav'd with Heroes, Tyber choak'd with Gods:
101 [Footnote: 1Kb] Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn,
102 And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn;
103 See graceless Venus to a Virgin turn'd,
104 Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'd.
105 Behold yon' Isle, by Palmers, Pilgrims trod,
106 Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, unshod,
[Page 191]
107 Peel'd, patch'd, and pyebald, linsey-woolsey brothers,
108 Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless others.
109 That once was Britain---Happy! had she seen
110 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] No fiercer sons, had Easter never been!
111 In peace, great Goddess, ever be ador'd;
112 How keen the war, if Dulness draw the sword?
113 Thus visit not thy own! on this blest age
114 Oh spread thy Influence, but restrain thy Rage.
115 And see! my son, the hour is on its way,
116 That lifts our Goddess to imperial sway;
117 This fav'rite-Isle, long sever'd from her reign,
118 Dove like, she gathers to her wings again.
119 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now look thro' Fate! behold the scene she draws!
120 What aids, what armies, to assert her cause?
[Page 192]
121 See all her progeny, illustrious sight!
122 Behold, and count them, as they rise to light.
123 [Footnote: 1Kb] As Berecynthia, while her off-spring vye
124 In homage, to the Mother of the sky,
125 Surveys around her in the blest abode
126 A hundred sons, and every son a God:
127 Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd
128 Shall take thro' Grubstreet her triumphant round,
129 And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once,
130 Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce.
131 [Footnote: 1Kb] Mark first that youth who takes the foremost place,
132 And thrusts his person full into your face.
133 [Footnote: 1Kb] With all thy father's virtues blest, be born!
134 And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn.
[Page 193]
135 A second see, by meeker manners known,
136 And modest as the maid that sips alone;
137 [Footnote: 1Kb] From the strong fate of drams if thou get free,
138 Another Durfey, Ward! shall sing in thee.
139 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thee shall each Ale-house, thee each Gill-house mourn,
140 And answ'ring Gin-shops sowrer sighs return.
141 Lo next two slip-shod Muses traipse along,
142 In lofty madness, meditating song,
143 With tresses staring from poetic dreams,
144 And never wash'd, but in Castalia's streams:
145 [Footnote: 1Kb] Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race!
146 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 2Kb] Lo Horneck's fierce, and Room's funereal face;
[Page 194]
147 [Footnote: 1Kb] Lo sneering Goode, half malice and half whim,
148 A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim.
[Page 195]
149 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 2Kb] Jacob, the scourge of Grammar, mark with awe,
150 [Footnote: 1Kb] Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of Law.
[Page 196]
151 [Footnote: 1Kb] Lo Bond and Foxton, ev'ry nameless name,
152 All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame.
153 Some strain in rhyme; the Muses, on their racks,
154 Scream like the winding of ten thousand jacks:
155 Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or check,
156 Break Priscian's head, and Pegasus's neck;
157 Down, down they larum, with impetuous whirl,
158 The Pindars, and the Miltons of a Curl.
159 [Footnote: 2Kb] Silence, ye Wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls.
160 And makes Night hideous---Answer him ye Owls!
[Page 197]
161 Sense, speech, and measure, living tongues and dead,
162 [Footnote: 1Kb] Let all give way---and Morris may be read.
163 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 2Kb] Flow Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer Beer,
164 Tho' stale, not ripe; tho' thin, yet never clear;
[Page 198]
165 So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull;
166 Heady, not strong; and foaming, tho' not full.
[Page 199]
167 [Footnote: 1Kb] Ah Dennis! Gildon ah! what ill-starr'd rage
168 Divides a friendship long confirm'd by age?
169 Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor,
170 But fool with fool is barb'rous civil war.
171 [Footnote: 1Kb] Embrace, embrace my sons! be foes no more!
172 Nor glad vile Poets with true Critics gore.
[Page 200]
173 [Footnote: 1Kb] Behold yon Pair, in strict embraces join'd;
174 How like in manners, and how like in mind!
175 [Footnote: 3Kb] Fam'd for good nature, Burnet, and for truth:
176 [Footnote: 2Kb] Ducket for pious passion to the youth.
177 Equal in wit, and equally polite,
178 Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler write;
[Page 201]
179 Like are their merits, like rewards they share,
180 That shines a Consul, this Commissioner.
[Page 202]
181 [Footnote: 1Kb] "But who is he, in closet close y pent,
182 "Of sober face, with learned dust besprent?
[Page 203]
183 [Footnote: 3Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight,
184 [Footnote: 2Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] On parchment scraps y fed, and Wormius hight.
[Page 204]
185 To future ages may thy dulness last,
186 As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past!
[Page 205]
187 There, dim in clouds, the poreing Scholiasts mark,
188 [Footnote: 1Kb] Wits, who like owls see only in the dark,
189 A Lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head,
190 For ever reading, never to be read!
[Page 206]
191 But, where each Science lifts its modern type,
192 Hist'ry her Pot, Divinity his Pipe,
193 While proud Philosophy repines to show
194 Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below;
195 [Footnote: 4Kb] Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo Henley stands,
196 Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands,
[Page 207]
197 How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue!
198 How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung!
199 Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain,
200 While Kennet, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain.
[Page 208]
201 Oh great Restorer of the good old Stage,
202 Preacher at once, and Zany of thy age!
203 Oh worthy thou of Ægypt's wise abodes,
204 A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods!
205 But fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall,
206 Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and mawl;
207 And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise,
208 [Footnote: 1Kb] In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days.
209 Yet oh my sons! a father's words attend:
210 (So may the fates preserve the ears you lend)
211 'Tis yours, a Bacon or a Locke to blame,
212 A Newton's Genius, or a Milton's flame:
213 But O! with one, immortal One dispense,
214 The source of Newton's Light, of Bacon's Sense!
215 Content, each Emanation of his fires
216 That beams on earth, each Virtue he inspires,
[Page 209]
217 Each Art he prompts, each Charm he can create,
218 Whate'er he gives, are giv'n for you to hate.
219 Persist, by all divine in Man un-aw'd,
220 [Footnote: 1Kb] But learn, ye Dunces! not to scorn your God.
221 Thus he, for then a ray of Reason stole,
222 Half thro' the solid darkness of his soul;
223 But soon the cloud return'd---and thus the Sire:
224 See now, what Dulness and her sons admire!
225 See what the charms that smite the simple heart,
226 Not touch'd by nature, and not reach'd by art.
227 [Footnote: 1Kb] He look'd, and saw a sable Sorc'rer rise,
228 Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies:
229 All sudden, Gorgons hiss, and dragons glare,
230 And ten-horn'd fiends and Giants rush to war.
[Page 210]
231 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hell rises, Heav'n descends, and dance on Earth,
232 Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth,
233 A fire, a jigg, a battle, and a ball,
234 Till one wide conflagration swallows all.
235 Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknown,
236 Breaks out refulgent, with a heav'n its own.
237 Another Cynthia her new journey runs,
238 [Footnote: 1Kb] And other planets circle other suns:
239 The forests dance, the rivers upward rise,
240 [Footnote: 1Kb] Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies;
241 And last, to give the whole creation grace,
242 [Footnote: 1Kb] Lo! one vast Egg produces human race.
243 Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought:
244 What pow'r, he cries, what pow'r these wonders wrought?
[Page 211]
245 [Footnote: 1Kb] Son! what thou seek'st is in thee. Look, and find
246 Each monster meets his likeness in thy mind.
247 Yet would'st thou more? In yonder cloud behold,
248 Whose sarcenet skirts are edg'd with flamy gold,
249 A matchless youth! His nod these worlds controuls,
250 [Footnote: 1Kb] Wings the red lightning, and the thunder rolls.
251 Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round
252 [Footnote: 1Kb] Her magic charms o'er all unclassic ground:
[Page 212]
255 Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher,
256 Illumes their light, and sets their flames on fire.
257 [Footnote: 1Kb] Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease
258 Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease;
259 And proud his mistress' orders to perform,
260 Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
261 But lo! to dark encounter in mid air
262 [Footnote: 1Kb] New wizards rise: here Booth, and Cibber there:
263 Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd,
264 On grinning dragons Cibber mounts the wind:
265 Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din,
266 Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincolns-Inn;
267 Contending Theatres our empire raise,
268 Alike their labours, and alike their praise.
269 And are these wonders, Son, to thee unknown?
270 Unknown to thee? These wonders are thy own.
271 For works like these let deathless Journals tell,
272 [Footnote: 2Kb]
[Footnote: 6Kb] "None but thy self can be thy parallel.
[Page 213]
273 These, Fate reserv'd to grace thy reign divine,
274 Foreseen by me, but ah! with-held from mine.
[Page 214]
275 In Lud's old walls tho' long I rul'd renown'd,
276 Far, as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound;
[Page 215]
277 Tho' my own Aldermen conferr'd my bays,
278 To me committing their eternal praise,
[Page 216]
279 Their full-fed Heroes, their pacific May'rs,
280 [Footnote: 1Kb] Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars:
281 [Footnote: 1Kb] Tho' long my Party built on me their hopes,
282 For writing pamphlets, and for roasting Popes;
[Page 217]
283 [Footnote: 1Kb] (Diff'rent our parties, but with equal grace
284 The Goddess smiles on Whig and Tory race,
285 'Tis the same rope at several ends they twist,
286 [Footnote: 1Kb] To Dulness, Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)
287 Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag on!
288 Reduc'd at last to hiss in my own dragon.
289 Avert it, heav'n! that thou or Cibber e'er
290 Should wag two serpent-tails in Smithfield fair.
[Page 218]
291 Like the vile straw that's blown about the streets,
292 The needy Poet sticks to all he meets,
293 Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now fast,
294 And carry'd off in some Dog's tail at last.
295 Happier thy fortunes! like a rolling stone,
296 Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on,
297 Safe in its heaviness can never stray,
298 And licks up every blockhead in the way.
299 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thy dragons Magistrates and Peers shall taste,
300 And from each show rise duller than the last;
301 Till rais'd from Booths to Theatre, to Court,
302 Her seat imperial, Dulness shall transport.
303 Already Opera prepares the way,
304 The sure fore-runner of her gentle sway.
305 [Footnote: 1Kb] To aid her cause, if heav'n thou can'st not bend,
306 Hell thou shalt move; for Faustus is thy friend:
[Page 219]
307 [Footnote: 1Kb] Pluto with Cato thou for her shalt join,
308 And link the Mourning-Bride to Proserpine.
309 Grubstreet! thy fall should men and Gods conspire,
310 [Footnote: 1Kb] Thy stage shall stand, ensure it but from fire,
311 [Footnote: 1Kb] Another Æschylus appears! prepare
312 For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair!
[Page 220]
313 In flames, like Semeles, be brought to bed,
314 While opening Hell spouts wild-fire at your head.
315 [Footnote: 1Kb] Now Bavius take the poppy from thy brow,
316 And place it here! here all ye Heroes bow!
317 [Footnote: 1Kb]
[Footnote: 1Kb] This, this is he, foretold by ancient rhymes:
318 Th'Augustus, born to bring Saturnian times:
319 Beneath his reign, shall Eusden wear the bays,
320 Cibber preside, Lord-Chancellor of Plays.
[Page 221]
321 [Footnote: 2Kb] Benson sole judge of architecture sit,
322 [Footnote: 2Kb] And Ambrose Philips be preferr'd for wit!
[Page 222]
323 [Footnote: 1Kb] While naked mourns the Dormitory wall,
324 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Jones and Boyle's united labours fall,
[Page 223]
325 While Wren with sorrow to the grave descends,
326 [Footnote: 3Kb] Gay dies unpension'd with a hundred friends,
[Page 224]
327 [Footnote: 1Kb] Hibernian politicks, O Swift, thy fate,
328 [Footnote: 1Kb] And Pope's whole years to comment and translate.
[Page 225]
329 [Footnote: 1Kb] Proceed great days! till learning fly the shore,
330 Till birch shall blush with noble blood no more,
331 Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play,
332 Till Westminster's whole year be holiday;
333 Till Isis' elders reel, their pupils sport;
334 And Alma Mater lye dissolv'd in port!
335 Signs following signs lead on the mighty year;
336 See! the dull star roll round and re-appear.
337 [Footnote: 2Kb] She comes! the cloud-compelling Pow'r, behold!
338 With Night primæval, and with Chaos old.
[Page 226]
339 Lo! the great Anarch's ancient reign restor'd;
340 Light dies before her uncreating word.
341 As one by one, at dread Medæa's strain,
342 The sick'ning stars fade off th'æthereal plain;
343 [Footnote: 1Kb] As Argus' eyes, by Hermes wand opprest,
344 Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
[Page 227]
345 Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
346 Art after art goes out, and all is night.
347 [Footnote: 1Kb] See sculking Truth in her old cavern lye,
348 Secur'd by mountains of heap'd casuistry:
349 Philosophy, that touch'd the heav'ns before,
350 Shrinks to her hidden cause, and is no more:
351 See Physic beg the Stagyrite's defence!
352 See Metaphysic call for aid on sense!
353 See mystery to Mathematics fly;
354 In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
355 Thy hand, great Dulness! lets the curtain fall,
356 And universal darkness buries all.
357 Enough! enough! the raptur'd monarch cries;
358 [Footnote: 1Kb] And thro' the Ivory gate the vision flies.
FINIS.
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