POEMS ON Several Occasions.
Written by Dr.
THOMAS PARNELL,
Late Arch-Deacon of
Clogher:
AND
Published by Mr.
POPE.
Dignum laude Virum Musa vetat mori.
HOR.
LONDON:
Printed for B. LINTOT, at the
Cross-Keys,
between the
Temple Gates
in
Fleet-street,
1722.
TO THE Right Honourable, ROBERT,
Earl
of
OXFORD
AND Earl MORTIMER.
SUCH were the Notes, thy once-lov'd Poet sung,
'Till Death untimely stop'd his tuneful Tongue.
Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd!
With softest Manners, gentlest Arts, adorn'd!
Blest in each Science, blest in ev'ry Strain!
Dear to the Muse, to HARLEY dear—in vain!
For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend,
Fond to forget the Statesman in the Friend;
For
Swift
and him, despis'd the Farce of State,
The sober Follies of the Wise and Great;
Dextrous, the craving, fawning Crowd to quit,
And pleas'd to 'scape from Flattery to Wit.
Absent or dead, still let a Friend be dear,
(A Sigh the Absent claims, the Dead a Tear)
Recall those Nights that clos'd thy toilsom Days,
Still hear thy
Parnell
in his living Lays:
Who careless, now, of Int'rest, Fame, or Fate,
Perhaps forgets that OXFORD e'er was Great;
Or deeming meanest what we greatest call,
Beholds thee glorious only in thy Fall.
And sure if ought below the Seats Divine
Can touch Immortals, 'tis a Soul like thine:
A Soul supreme, in each hard Instance try'd,
Above all Pain, all Anger, and all Pride,
The Rage of Pow'r, the Blast of publick Breath,
The Lust of Lucre, and the Dread of Death.
In vain to Desarts thy Retreat is made;
The Muse attends thee to the silent Shade:
'Tis hers, the brave Man's latest Steps to trace,
Re-judge his Acts, and dignify Disgrace.
When Int'rest calls off all her sneaking Train,
When all th' Oblig'd desert, and all the Vain;
She waits, or to the Scaffold, or the Cell,
When the last ling'ring Friend has bid farewel.
Ev'n now she shades thy Evening Walk with Bays,
(No Hireling she, no Prostitute to Praise)
Ev'n now, observant of the parting Ray,
Eyes the calm Sun-set of thy Various Day,
Thro' Fortune's Cloud One truly Great can see,
Nor fears to tell, that MORTIMER is He.
A. POPE.
Sept.
25. 1721.
HESIOD: OR, THE Rise of WOMAN.
HESIOD:
OR, THE Rise of WOMAN.
WHAT antient Times (those Times we fancy wise)
Have left on long Record of
Woman
's Rise,
What Morals teach it, and what Fables hide,
What Author wrote it, how that Author dy'd,
All these I sing. In
Greece
they fram'd the Tale
(In
Greece,
'twas thought, a
Woman
might be frail)
Ye modern Beauties! where the Poet drew
His softest Pencil, think he dreamt of you;
And warn'd by him, ye wanton Pens, beware
How Heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the Fair.
The Case was
Hesiod
's; he the Fable writ;
Some think with Meaning, some with idle Wit:
Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please;
I wave the Contest, and commence the Lays.
In days of yore, (no matter where or when,
'Twas e're the low Creation swarm'd with Men)
That one
Prometheus,
sprung of heav'nly Birth,
(Our Author's Song can witness) liv'd on Earth.
He carv'd the Turf to mold a manly Frame,
And stole from
Jove
his animating Flame.
The sly Contrivance o'er
Olympus
ran,
When thus the Monarch of the Stars began.
Oh vers'd in Arts! whose daring Thoughts aspire
To kindle Clay with never-dying Fire!
Enjoy thy Glory past, That Gift was thine;
The next thy Creature meets, be fairly mine:
And such a Gift, a Vengeance so design'd,
As suits the Counsel of a God to find;
A pleasing Bosom-cheat, a specious Ill,
Which felt they curse, yet covet still to feel.
He said, and
Vulcan
strait the Sire commands,
To temper Mortar with etherial Hands;
In such a Shape to mold a rising Fair,
As Virgin-goddesses are proud to wear;
To make her Eyes with Diamond-water shine,
And form her Organs for a Voice divine.
'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd; the Pow'r obey'd;
And work'd, and wonder'd at the Work he made;
The fairest, softest, sweetest Frame beneath,
Now made to seem, now more than seem, to breathe.
As
Vulcan
ends, the chearful
Queen
of
Charms
Clasp'd the new-panting Creature in her Arms;
From that Embrace a fine Complexion spread,
Where mingled Whiteness glow'd with softer red.
Then in a Kiss she breath'd her various Arts,
Of trifling prettily with wounded Hearts;
A Mind for Love, but still a changing Mind;
The Lisp affected, and the Glance design'd;
The sweet confusing Blush, the secret Wink,
The gentle-swimming Walk, the courteous Sink,
The Stare for Strangeness fit, for Scorn the Frown,
For decent yielding Looks declining down,
The practis'd Languish, where well-feign'd Desire
Wou'd own its melting in a mutual Fire;
Gay Smiles to comfort;
April
Show'rs to move;
And all the Nature, all the Art, of Love.
Gold-scepter'd
Juno
next exalts the Fair;
Her Touch endows her with imperious Air,
Self-valuing Fancy, highly-crested Pride,
Strong sov'reign Will, and
some
Desire to chide:
For which, an Eloquence, that aims to vex,
With native Tropes of Anger, arms the Sex.
Minerva
(skillful Goddess) train'd the Maid
To twirl the Spindle by the twisting Thread,
To fix the Loom, instruct the Reeds to part,
Cross the long Weft, and close the Web with Art,
An useful Gift; but what profuse Expence,
What world of Fashions, took its Rise from hence!
Young
Hermes
next, a close-contriving God,
Her Brows encircled with his Serpent Rod:
Then Plots and fair Excuses, fill'd her Brain,
The Views of breaking am'rous Vows for Gain,
The Price of Favours; the designing Arts
That aim at Riches in Contempt of Hearts;
And for a Comfort in the Marriage Life,
The little, pilf'ring Temper of a
Wife.
Full on the Fair his Beams
Apollo
flung,
And fond Persuasion tip'd her easy Tongue;
He gave her Words, where oyly Flatt'ry lays
The pleasing Colours of the Art of Praise;
And Wit, to Scandal exquisitely prone,
Which frets another's Spleen to cure its own.
Those sacred
Virgins
whom the Bards revere,
Tun'd all her Voice, and shed a Sweetness there,
To make her Sense with double Charms abound,
Or make her lively Nonsense please by Sound.
To dress the Maid, the decent
Graces
brought
A Robe in all the Dies of Beauty wrought,
And plac'd their Boxes o'er a rich Brocade
Where pictur'd
Loves
on ev'ry cover plaid;
Then spread those Implements that
Vulcan
's Art
Had fram'd to merit
Cytherea
's Heart;
The Wire to curl, the close-indented Comb
To call the Locks that lightly wander, home;
And chief, the Mirrour, where the ravish'd Maid
Beholds and loves her own reflected Shade.
Fair
Flora
lent her Stores, the purpled
Hours
Confin'd her Tresses with a Wreath of Flow'rs;
Within the Wreath arose a radiant Crown;
A Veil pellucid hung depending down;
Back roll'd her azure Veil with Serpent fold,
The purfled Border deck'd the Floor with Gold.
Her Robe (which closely by the Girdle brac't
Reveal'd the Beauties of a slender Waste)
Flow'd to the Feet; to copy
Venus
Air,
When
Venus
's Statues have a Robe to wear.
The new sprung Creature finish'd thus for Harms,
Adjusts her Habit, practises her Charms;
With Blushes glows, or shines with lively Smiles,
Confirms her Will, or recollects her Wiles:
Then conscious of her Worth, with easy Pace
Glides by the Glass, and turning views her Face.
A finer Flax than what they wrought before,
Thro' Time's deep Cave the
Sister Fates
explore,
Then fix the Loom, their Fingers nimbly weave,
And thus their Toil prophetick Songs deceive.
Flow from the Rock my Flax! and swiftly flow,
Pursue thy Thread; the Spindle runs below.
A Creature fond and changing, fair and vain,
The Creature
Woman,
rises now to reign.
New Beauty blooms, a Beauty form'd to fly;
New Love begins, a Love produc'd to dye;
New Parts distress the troubled Scenes of Life,
The fondling Mistress, and the ruling Wife.
Men, born to Labour, all with Pains provide;
Women
have Time, to sacrifice to Pride:
They want the Care of Man, their Want they know,
And dress to please with heart-alluring Show,
The Show prevailing, for the Sway contend,
And make a Servant where they meet a Friend.
Thus in a thousand wax-erected Forts
A loytering Race the painful Bee supports,
From Sun to Sun, from Bank to Bank he flies,
With Honey loads his Bag, with Wax his Thighs,
Fly where he will, at home the Race remain,
Prune the silk Dress, and murm'ring eat the Gain.
Yet here and there we grant a gentle Bride,
Whose Temper betters by the Father's side;
Unlike the rest that double humane Care,
Fond to relieve, or resolute to share:
Happy the Man whom thus his Stars advance!
The Curse is gen'ral, but the Blessing Chance.
Thus sung the
Sisters,
while the Gods admire
Their beauteous Creature, made for Man in Ire;
The young
Pandora
she, whom all contend
To make too perfect not to gain her End:
Then bid the Winds that fly to breath the Spring,
Return to bear her on a gentle Wing;
With wafting Airs the Winds obsequious blow,
And land the shining Vengeance safe below.
A golden Coffer in her Hand she bore,
(The Present treach'rous, but the Bearer more)
'Twas fraught with Pangs; for
Jove
ordain'd above,
That Gold shou'd aid, and Pangs attend on Love.
Her gay Descent the Man perceiv'd afar,
Wond'ring he run to catch the falling Star;
But so surpriz'd, as none but he can tell,
Who lov'd so quickly, and who lov'd so well.
O'er all his Veins the wand'ring Passion burns,
He calls her Nymph, and ev'ry Nymph by turns.
Her Form to lovely
Venus
he prefers,
Or swears that
Venus
must be such as hers.
She, proud to rule, yet strangely fram'd to teize,
Neglects his Offers while her Airs she plays,
Shoots scornful Glances from the bended Frown,
In brisk Disorder trips it up and down,
Then hums a careless Tune to lay the Storm,
And sits, and blushes, smiles, and yields, in
Form.
"Now take what
Jove
design'd (she softly cry'd)
"This box thy Portion, and my self thy Bride:"
Fir'd with the Prospect of the double Charms,
He snatch'd the Box, and Bride, with eager Arms.
Unhappy Man! to whom so bright she shone,
The fatal Gift, her tempting self, unknown!
The Winds were silent, all the Waves asleep,
And Heav'n was trac'd upon the flatt'ring Deep;
But whilst he looks unmindful of a Storm,
And thinks the Water wears a stable Form,
What dreadful Din around his Ears shall rise!
What Frowns confuse his Picture of the Skies!
At first the Creature Man was fram'd alone,
Lord of himself, and all the World his own.
For him the Nymphs in green forsook the Woods,
For him the Nymphs in blue forsook the Floods,
In vain the Satyrs rage, the Tritons rave,
They bore him Heroes in the secret Cave.
No Care destroy'd, no sick Disorder prey'd,
No bending Age his sprightly Form decay'd,
No Wars were known, no Females heard to rage,
And Poets tell us, 'twas a golden Age.
When
Woman
came, those Ills the Box confin'd
Burst furious out, and poison'd all the Wind,
From Point to Point, from Pole to Pole they flew,
Spread as they went, and in the Progress grew:
The Nymphs regretting left the mortal Race,
And alt'ring Nature wore a sickly Face:
New Terms of Folly rose, new States of Care;
New Plagues, to suffer, and to please, the Fair!
The Days of whining, and of wild Intrigues,
Commenc'd, or finish'd, with the Breach of Leagues;
The mean Designs of well-dissembled Love;
The sordid Matches never joyn'd above;
Abroad, the Labour, and at home the Noise,
(Man's double Suff'rings for domestick Joys)
The Curse of Jealousy; Expence, and Strife;
Divorce, the publick Brand of shameful Life;
The Rival's Sword; the Qualm that takes the Fair;
Disdain for Passion, Passion in Despair—
These, and a thousand, yet unnam'd, we find;
Ah fear the thousand, yet unnam'd behind!
THUS on
Parnassus
tuneful
Hesiod
sung,
The Mountain echo'd, and the Valley rung,
The sacred Groves a fix'd Attention show,
The chrystal
Helicon
forbore to flow,
The Sky grew bright, and (if his Verse be true)
The
Muses
came to give the Laurel too.
But what avail'd the verdant Prize of Wit,
If
Love
swore Vengeance for the Tales he writ?
Ye fair offended, hear your Friend relate
What heavy Judgment prov'd the Writer's Fate,
Tho'
when
it happen'd, no Relation clears,
'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty Years.
Where, dark and silent, with a twisted Shade
The neighb'ring Woods a native Arbour made,
There oft a tender Pair for am'rous Play
Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd Hours away;
A
Locrian
Youth, the gentle
Troilus
he,
A fair
Milesian,
kind
Evanthe
she:
But swelling Nature in a fatal Hour
Betray'd the Secrets of the conscious Bow'r;
The dire Disgrace her Brothers count their own,
And track her Steps, to make its Author known.
It chanc'd one Evening, ('twas the Lover's Day)
Conceal'd in Brakes the jealous Kindred lay;
When
Hesiod
wand'ring, mus'd along the Plain,
And fix'd his Seat where Love had fix'd the Scene:
A strong Suspicion strait possest their Mind,
(For Poets ever were a gentle kind.)
But when
Evanthe
near the Passage stood,
Flung back a doubtful Look, and shot the Wood▪
"Now take, (at once they cry) thy due Reward,"
And urg'd with erring Rage, assault the Bard.
His Corps the Sea receiv'd. The Dolphins bore
('Twas all the Gods would do) the Corps to Shore.
Methinks I view the Dead with pitying Eyes,
And see the Dreams of antient Wisdom rise;
I see the
Muses
round the Body cry,
But hear a
Cupid
loudly laughing by;
He wheels his Arrow with insulting Hand,
And thus inscribes the Moral on the Sand.
"Here
Hesiod
lies: Ye future Bards, beware
"How far your Moral Tales incense the Fair:
"Unlov'd, unloving, 'twas his Fate to bleed;
"Without his Quiver
Cupid
caus'd the Deed:
"He judg'd this Turn of Malice justly due,
"And
Hesiod
dy'd for Joys he never knew.
SONG.
WHEN thy Beauty appears
In its Graces and Airs,
All bright as an Angel new dropt from the Sky;
At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my Fears,
So strangely you dazzle my Eye!
But when without Art,
Your kind Thoughts you impart,
When your Love runs in Blushes thro' ev'ry Vein;
When it darts from your Eyes, when it pants in your Heart,
Then I know you're a Woman again.
There's a Passion and Pride
In our Sex, (she reply'd,)
And thus (might I gratify both) I wou'd do:
Still an Angel appear to each Lover beside,
But still be a Woman to you.
A SONG.
THYRSIS,
a young and am'rous Swain,
Saw two, the Beauties of the Plain;
Who both his Heart subdue:
Gay
Caelia's
Eyes were dazzling fair,
Sabina's
easy Shape and Air
With softer Magick drew.
He haunts the Stream, he haunts the Grove,
Lives in a fond Romance of Love,
And seems for each to dye;
'Till each a little spiteful grown,
Sabina Caelia
's Shape ran down,
And she
Sabina
's Eye.
Their Envy made the Shepherd find
Those Eyes, which Love cou'd only blind;
So set the Lover free:
No more he haunts the Grove or Stream,
Or with a True-love Knot and Name
Engraves a wounded Tree.
Ah
Caelia!
(sly
Sabina
cry'd)
Tho' neither love, we're both deny'd;
Now, to support the Sex's Pride,
Let either fix the Dart.
Poor Girl! (says
Caelia
) say no more;
For shou'd the Swain but one adore,
That Spite which broke his Chains before,
Wou'd break the other's Heart.
SONG.
MY days have been so wond'rous free,
The little Birds that fly
With careless ease from Tree to Tree,
Were but as bless'd as I.
Ask gliding Waters, if a Tear
Of mine encreas'd their Stream?
Or ask the flying Gales, if e'er
I lent one Sigh to them?
But now my former Days retire,
And I'm by Beauty caught,
The tender Chains of sweet Desire
Are fix't upon my Thought.
Ye Nightingales, ye twisting Pines!
Ye Swains that haunt the Grove!
Ye gentle Echoes, breezy Winds!
Ye close Retreats of Love!
With all of Nature, all of Art,
Assist the dear Design;
O teach a young, unpractic'd Heart,
To make my
Nancy
mine.
The very Thought of Change I hate,
As much as of Despair;
Nor ever covet to be great,
Unless it be for her.
'Tis true, the Passion in my Mind
Is mix'd with soft Distress;
Yet while the Fair I love is kind,
I cannot wish it Less.
ANACREONTICK.
WHEN Spring came on with fresh Delight,
To cheer the Soul, and charm the Sight,
While easy Breezes, softer Rain,
And warmer Suns salute the Plain;
'Twas then, in yonder Piny Grove,
That
Nature
went to meet with
Love.
Green was her Robe, and green her Wreath,
Where-e'er she trod, 'twas green beneath;
Where-e'er she turn'd, the Pulses beat
With new recruits of
Genial
Heat;
And in her Train the Birds appear,
To match for all the coming Year.
Rais'd on a Bank, where Daizys grew,
And Vi'lets intermix'd a Blew,
She finds the
Boy
she went to find;
A thousand
Pleasures
wait behind,
Aside, a thousand Arrows lye,
But all unfeather'd wait to fly.
When they met, the
Dame
and
Boy,
Dancing
Graces,
idle
Joy,
Wanton
Smiles,
and airy
Play,
Conspir'd to make the Scene be gay;
Love
pair'd the Birds through all the Grove,
And
Nature
bid them sing to
Love,
Sitting, hopping, flutt'ring, sing,
And pay their Tribute from the Wing,
To fledge the Shafts that idly lye,
And yet unfeather'd wait to fly.
'Tis thus, when Spring renews the Blood,
They meet in ev'ry trembling Wood,
And thrice they make the Plumes agree,
And ev'ry Dart they mount with three,
And ev'ry Dart can boast a Kind,
Which suits each proper turn of Mind.
From the tow'ring
Eagle's
Plume
The
Gen'rous Hearts
accept their Doom;
Shot by the
Peacock's
painted Eye
The
vain
and
airy Lovers
dye:
For
careful
Dames and
frugal
Men,
The Shafts are speckled by the
Hen.
The
Pyes
and
Parrots
deck the Darts,
When
Prattling
wins the panting Hearts:
When from the
Voice
the Passions spring,
The warbling
Finch
affords a Wing:
Together, by the
Sparrow
stung,
Down fall the
wanton
and the
young:
And fledg'd by
Geese
the Weapons fly,
When others love
they know not why.
All this (as late I chanc'd to rove)
I learn'd in yonder waving Grove.
And see, says
Love,
(who call'd me near)
How much I deal with
Nature
here,
How both support a proper Part,
She gives the Feather, I the Dart:
Then cease for Souls averse to sigh,
If
Nature
cross ye, so do I;
My Weapon there unfeather'd flies,
And shakes and shuffles through the Skies.
But if the
mutual Charms
I find
By which she links you, Mind to Mind,
They wing my Shafts, I poize the Darts,
And strike from both, through both your Hearts.
ANACREONTICK.
GAY
Bacchus
liking
Estcourt's
Wine,
A noble Meal bespoke us;
And for the Guests that were to dine,
Brought
Comus, Love,
and
Jocus.
The God near
Cupid
drew his Chair,
Near
Comus, Jocus
plac'd;
For
Wine
makes
Love
forget its Care,
And
Mirth
exalts a Feast.
The more to please the sprightly God,
Each sweet engaging
Grace
Put on some Cloaths to come abroad,
And took a Waiter's Place.
Then
Cupid
nam'd at every Glass
A Lady of the Sky;
While
Bacchus
swore he'd drink the Lass,
And had it Bumper-high.
Far
Comus
tost his Brimmers o'cr,
And always got the most;
Jocus
took care to fill him more,
When-e'er he mist the Toast.
They call'd, and drank at every touch;
He fill'd, and drank again;
And if the Gods can take too much,
'Tis said, they did so then.
Gay
Bacchus
little
Cupid
stung,
By reck'ning his Deceits;
And
Cupid
mock'd his stamm'ring Tongue,
With all his stagg'ring Gaits:
And
Jocus
droll'd on
Comus'
Ways,
And Tales without a Jest;
While
Comus
call'd his witty Plays
But Waggeries at best.
Such Talk soon set 'em all at odds;
And, had I
Homer
's Pen,
I'd sing ye, how they drunk like Gods,
And how they fought, like Men.
To part the Fray, the
Graces
fly,
Who make 'em soon agree;
Nay, had the
Furies
selves been nigh,
They still were three to three.
Bacchus
appeas'd, rais'd
Cupid
up,
And gave him back his Bow;
But kept some Darts to stir the Cup
Where Sack and Sugar flow.
Jocus
took
Comus'
rosy Crown,
And gayly wore the Prize,
And thrice, in Mirth, he push'd him down,
As thrice he strove to rise.
Then
Cupid
sought the Myrtle Grove,
Where
Venus
did recline,
And
Venus
close embracing
Love,
They joyn'd to rail at Wine.
And
Comus
loudly cursing
Wit,
Roll'd off to some Retreat,
Where boon Companions gravely sit
In fat unweildy State.
Bacchus
and
Jocus,
still behind,
For one fresh Glass prepare;
They kiss, and are exceeding kind,
And vow to be sincere.
But part in Time, whoever hear
This our instructive Song;
For tho' such Friendships may be dear,
They can't continue long.
FAIRY TALE IN THE
Ancient
ENGLISH
Style.
IN
Britain
's Isle and
Arthur
's days,
When Midnight
Faeries
daunc'd the Maze,
Liv'd
Edwin
of the Green;
Edwin,
I wis, a gentle Youth,
Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth,
Tho' badly Shap'd he been.
His Mountain Back mote well be said
To measure heigth against his Head,
And lift it self above:
Yet spite of all that Nature did
To make his uncouth Form forbid,
This Creature dar'd to love.
He felt the Charms of
Edith
's Eyes,
Nor wanted Hope to gain the Prize,
Cou'd Ladies look within;
But one Sir
Topaz
dress'd with Art,
And, if a Shape cou'd win a Heart,
He had a Shape to win.
Edwin
(if right I read my Song)
With slighted Passion pac'd along
All in the Moony Light:
'Twas near an old enchaunted Court,
Where sportive
Faeries
made Resort
To revel out the Night.
His Heart was drear, his Hope was cross'd,
'Twas late, 'twas farr, the Path was lost
That reach'd the Neighbour-Town;
With weary Steps he quits the Shades,
Resolv'd the darkling Dome he treads,
And drops his Limbs adown.
But scant he lays him on the Floor,
When hollow Winds remove the Door,
A trembling rocks the Ground:
And (well I ween to count aright)
At once an hundred Tapers light
On all the Walls around.
Now sounding Tongues assail his Ear,
Now sounding Feet approachen near,
And now the Sounds encrease:
And from the Corner where he lay
He sees a Train profusely gay
Come pranckling o'er the Place.
But (trust me
Gentles!
) never yet
Was dight a Masquing half so neat,
Or half so rich before;
The Country lent the sweet Perfumes,
The Sea the Pearl, the Sky the Plumes,
The Town its silken Store.
Now whilst he gaz'd, a
Gallant
drest
In flaunting Robes above the rest,
With awfull Accent cry'd;
What
Mortall
of a wretched Mind,
Whose Sighs infect the balmy Wind,
Has here presum'd to hide?
At this the
Swain
whose vent'rous Soul
No Fears of
Magick
Art controul,
Advanc'd in open sight;
'Nor have I Cause of Dreed, he said,
'Who view by no Presumption led
'Your Revels of the Night.
'Twas Grief, for Scorn of faithful Love,
'Which made my Steps unweeting, rove
'Amid the nightly Dew.
'Tis well, the
Gallant
crys again,
We
Faeries
never injure Men
Who dare to tell us true.
Exalt thy Love-dejected Heart,
Be mine the Task, or e'er we part,
To make thee Grief resign;
Now take the Pleasure of thy Chaunce;
Whilst I with
Mab
my part'ner daunce,
Be little
Mable
thine.
He spoke, and all a sudden there
Light Musick floats in wanton Air;
The
Monarch
leads the
Queen:
The rest their
Faerie
Partners found,
And
Mable
trimly tript the Ground
With
Edwin
of the Green.
The Dauncing past, the Board was laid,
And siker such a Feast was made
As Heart and Lip desire;
Withouten Hands the Dishes fly,
The Glasses with a Wish come nigh,
And with a Wish retire.
But now to please the
Faerie King,
Full ev'ry deal they laugh and sing,
And antick Feats devise;
Some wind and tumble like an Ape,
And other-some transmute their Shape
In
Edwin
's wond'ring Eyes.
'Till one at last that
Robin
hight,
(Renown'd for pinching Maids by Night)
Has hent him up aloof;
And full against the Beam he flung,
Where by the Back the
Youth
he hung
To spraul unneath the Roof.
From thence, "Reverse my Charm, he crys,
"And let it fairely now suffice
"The Gambol has been shown.
But
Oberon
answers with a Smile,
Content thee
Edwin
for a while,
The Vantage is thine own.
Here ended all the Phantome-play;
They smelt the fresh Approach of Day,
And heard a Cock to crow;
The whirling Wind that bore the Crowd
Has clap'd the Door, and whistled loud,
To warn them all to go.
Then screaming all at once they fly,
And all at once the Tapers dy;
Poor
Edwin
falls to Floor;
Forlorn his State, and dark the Place,
Was never Wight in sike a Case
Through all the Land before.
But soon as Dan
Apollo
rose,
Full Jolly Creature home he goes,
He feels his Back the less;
His honest Tongue and steady Mind
Han rid him of the Lump behind
Which made him want Success.
With lusty livelyhed he talks,
He seems a dauncing as he walks,
His Story soon took wind;
And beautious
Edith
sees the Youth,
Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth,
Without a Bunch behind.
The Story told, Sir
Topaz
mov'd,
(The Youth of
Edith
erst approv'd)
To see the Revel Scene:
At close of Eve he leaves his home,
And wends to find the ruin'd Dome
All on the gloomy Plain.
As there he bides, it so befell,
The Wind came rustling down a Dell,
A shaking seiz'd the Wall:
Up spring the Tapers as before,
The
Faeries
bragly foot the Floor,
And Musick fills the Hall.
But
certes
sorely sunk with woe
Sir
Topaz
sees the
Elphin
show,
His Spirits in him dy:
When
Oberon
crys, 'a
Man
is near,
'A mortall Passion, cleeped Fear,
'Hangs flagging in the Sky.
With that Sir
Topaz
(Hapless Youth!)
In Accents fault'ring ay for Ruth
Intreats them Pity graunt;
For als he been a mister Wight
Betray'd by wand'ring in the Night
To tread the circled Haunt;
'Ah Losell Vile, at once they roar!
'And little skill'd of
Faerie
lore,
'Thy Cause to come we know:
'Now has thy Kestrell Courage fell;
'And
Faeries,
since a Ly you tell,
'Are free to work thee Woe.
Then
Will,
who bears the
wispy
Fire
To trail the Swains among the Mire,
The Caitive upward flung;
There like a Tortoise in a Shop
He dangled from the Chamber-top,
Where whilome
Edwin
hung.
The Revel now proceeds apace,
Deffly they frisk it o'er the Place,
They sit, they drink, and eat;
The time with frolick Mirth beguile,
And poor Sir
Topaz
hangs the while
'Till all the Rout retreat.
By this the Starrs began to wink,
They skriek, they fly, the Tapers sink,
And down ydrops the
Knight.
For never Spell by
Faerie
laid
With strong Enchantment bound a Glade
Beyond the length of Night.
Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay,
Till up the Welkin rose the Day,
Then deem'd the Dole was o'er:
But wot ye well his harder Lot?
His seely Back the
Bunch
has got
Which
Edwin
lost afore.
This Tale a
Sybil-Nurse
ared;
She softly strok'd my youngling Head,
And when the Tale was done,
'Thus some are born, my Son (she cries)
'With base Impediments to rise,
'And some are born with none.
'But Virtue can it self advance
'To what the Fav'rite Fools of Chance
'By Fortune seem'd design'd;
'Virtue can gain the Odds of Fate,
'And from it self shake off the Weight
'Upon th' unworthy
Mind.
PERVIGILIUM VENERIS.
CRAS amet, qui numquam amavit; Quique amavit, cras amet.
Ver novum, ver jam canorum: vere natus orbis est,
Vere concordant amores, vere nubent alites,
Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus.
Cras amorem copulatrix inter umbras arborum
Implicat gazas virentes de flagello myrteo.
Cras Dione jura dicit, fulta sublimi throno.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Tune liquore de superno, spameo ponti e globo,
Caerulas inter catervas, inter & bipedes equos,
Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Ipsa gemmas purpurantem pingit annum floribus,
Ipsa surgentis papillas de Favonî spiritu,
Urguet in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi,
Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentis aquas,
Et micant lacrymae trementes decidivo pondere.
Gutta praeceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos.
In pudorem florulentae prodiderunt purpurae.
Umor ille, quem serenis astra rorant noctibus.
Mane virgines papillas solvit umenti peplo.
Ipsa jussit muae ut udae virgines nubant rosae
Fusae prius de cruore deque amoris osculis,
Deque gemmis, deque flammis, deque Solis purpuris,
Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea,
Unica marito nodo non pudebit solvere.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Ipsa Nimfas Diva luco jussit ire myrteo
Et Puer comes puellis. Nec tamen credi potest
Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit.
Ite Nimfae: posuit arma, feriatus est Amor.
Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est:
Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne laederet.
Sed tamen cavete Nimfae, quod Cupido pulcer est:
Torus est inermis idem, quando nudus est Amor.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Compari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines.
Una res est quam rogamus, cede virgo Delia,
Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus.
Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem:
Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus:
Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos,
Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas.
Nec Ceres, nec Bacchus absunt, nec Poetarum Deus;
Detinent & tota nox est pervigila cantibus.
Regnet in silvis Dione: tu recede Delia.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Jussit Hiblaeis tribunal stare Diva floribus.
Praesens ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiae.
Hibla totos funde flores quidquid annus adtulit.
Hibla florum rumpe vestem, quantus Aennae campus est.
Ruris hic crunt puellae, vel puellae montium,
Quaeque silvas, quaeque lucos, quaeque montes incolunt.
Jussit omnis adsidere pueri Mater alitas,
Jussit & nudo puellas nil Amori credere.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Et recentibus virentes ducat umbras floribus.
Cras erit qui primus aether copulavit nuptias,
Ut pater roris crearet vernis annum nubibus
In sinum maritus imber fluxit almae conjugis,
Ut foetus immixtus omnis alcret magno corpore.
Ipsa venas atque mentem permeante spiritu
Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus,
Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum subditum,
Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite
Imbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latino transtulit;
Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit;
Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem.
Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias,
Unde Rames & Quirites, proque prole posterûm
Romoli matrem crearet & nepotem Caesarem.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Rura foecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt
Ipse Amor puer Dionae rure natus dicitur.
Hunc ager cum parturiret, ipsa suscepit sinu,
Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
Ecce, jam super genestas explicat aonii latus.
Quisque tuus quo tenetur conjugali foedere.
Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum gregem.
Et canoras non tacere Diva jussit alites.
Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cygni perstrepunt,
Adsonant Terei puellae subter umbram populi,
Ut putas motus Amoris ore dici musico,
Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro.
Illa cantat: nos tacemus: quando ver venit meum?
Quando faciam ut celidon, ut tacere desinam?
Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Phoebus respicit.
Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.
THE VIGIL of
VENUS.
Written in the Time of
JULIUS CAESAR,
and by some ascrib'd to
CATULLUS.
LET those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
The
Spring,
the new, the warb'ling Spring appears,
The youthful Season of reviving Years;
In Spring the
Loves
enkindle mutual Heats,
The feather'd Nation chuse their tuneful Mates,
The Trees grow fruitful with descending Rain
And drest in diff'ring Greens adorn the Plain.
She comes; to morrow
Beauty's Empress
roves
Thro' Walks that winding run within the Groves;
She twines the shooting Myrtle into Bow'rs,
And ties their meeting Tops with Wreaths of Flow'rs,
Then rais'd sublimely on her easy Throne
From Nature's pow'rful Dictates draws her own.
Let those love now; who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
'Twas on that Day which saw the teeming Flood
Swell round, impregnate with celestial Blood;
Wand'ring in Circles stood the finny Crew,
The midst was left a void Expanse of Blue,
There Parent
Ocean
work'd with heaving Throes,
And dropping wet the fair
Dione
rose.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love them more.
She paints the purple Year with vary'd show,
Tips the green Gem, and makes the Blossom glow.
She makes the turgid Buds receive the Breeze,
Expand to Leaves, and shade the naked Trees.
When gath'ring damps the misty Nights diffuse,
She sprinkles all the Morn with balmy Dews;
Bright trembling Pearls depend at ev'ry spray,
And kept from falling, seem to fall away.
A glossy Freshness hence the
Rose
receives,
And blushes sweet through all her silken Leaves;
(The Drops descending through the silent Night,
While Stars serenely roll their golden Light,)
Close 'till the Morn, her humid Veil she holds;
Then deckt with Virgin Pomp the Flow'r unsolds.
Soon will the Morning blush: Ye Maids! prepare,
In rosy Garlands bind your flowing Hair
'Tis
Venus'
Plant: The Blood fair
Venus
shed,
O'er the gay Beauty pour'd immortal Red;
From
Love
's soft Kiss a sweet
Ambrosial
Smell
Was taught for ever on the Leaves to dwell;
From Gemms, from Flames, from orient Rays of Light
The richest Lustre makes her Purple bright;
And she to morrow weds; the sporting Gale
Unties her Zone, she bursts the verdant Veil;
Thro' all her Sweets the rifling
Lover
flies,
And as he breaths, her glowing Fires arise.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Now fair
Dione
to the Myrtle Grove
Sends the gay
Nymphs,
and sends her tender
Love.
And shall they venture? is it safe to go?
While
Nymphs
have Hearts, and
Cupid
wears a Bow?
Yes safely venture, 'tis his Mother's Will;
He walks unarm'd and undesigning ill,
His Torch extinct, his Quiver useless hung,
His Arrows idle, and his Bow unstrung.
And yet, ye
Nymphs,
beware, his Eyes have Charms,
And
Love
that's naked, still is
Love
in Arms.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
From
Venus
Bow'r to
Delia's
Lodge repairs
A Virgin Train compleat with modest Airs:
'Chast
Delia!
grant our Suit! or shun the Wood,
'Nor stain this sacred Lawn with savage Blood.
'
Venus,
O
Delia!
if she cou'd persuade,
'Wou'd ask thy Presence, might she ask a Maid.
Here chearful Quires for three auspicious Nights
With Songs prolong the pleasurable Rites:
Here Crouds in Measures lightly-decent rove;
Or seek by Pairs the Covert of the Grove,
Where meeting Greens for Arbours arch above,
And mingling Flowrets strow the Scenes of Love.
Here dancing
Ceres
shakes her golden Sheaves:
Here
Bacchus
revels, deckt with viny Leaves:
Here Wit's enchanting God in Lawrel crown'd
Wakes all the ravish'd Hours with silver Sound.
Ye Fields, ye Forests, own
Dione
's Reign,
And
Delia,
Huntress
Delia,
shun the Plain.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Gay with the Bloom of all her opening Year,
The
Queen
at
Hybla
bids her Throne appear;
And there presides; and there the fav'rite Band
(Her smiling
Graces
) share the great Command.
Now beauteous
Hybla!
dress thy flow'ry Beds
With all the Pride the lavish Season sheds,
Now all thy Colours, all thy Fragrance yield,
And rival
Enna
's Aromatick Field.
To fill the Presence of the gentle Court
From ev'ry Quarter rural
Nymphs
resort,
From Woods, from Mountains, from their humble Vales,
From Waters curling with the wanton Gales.
Pleas'd with the joyful Train, the
laughing Queen
In Circles seats them round the Bank of green;
And 'lovely Girls, (she whispers) guard your Hearts;
'My Boy, tho' stript of Arms, abounds in Arts.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Let tender Grass in shaded Allys spread,
Let early Flow'rs erect their painted Head.
To morrow's Glory be to morrow seen,
That Day, old
Ether
wedded
Earth
in green.
The
Vernal Father
bid the Spring appear,
In Clouds he coupled to produce the Year,
The Sap descending o'er her Bosom ran,
And all the various sorts of Soul began.
By Wheels unknown to Sight, by secret Veins
Distilling Life, the fruitful Goddess reigns,
Through all the lovely Realms of native Day,
Through all the circled Land, and circling Sea;
With fertil Seed she fill'd the pervious Earth,
And ever fix'd the mystick Ways of Birth.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
'Twas she the
Parent,
to the
Latian
Shore
Through various Dangers
Troy
's Remainder bore.
She won
Lavinia
for her warlike Son,
And winning her, the
Latian
Empire won.
She gave to
Mars
the Maid, whose honour'd Womb
Swell'd with the
Founder
of immortal
Rome.
Decoy'd by Shows the
Sabin
Dames she led,
And taught our vig'rous Youth the Means to wed.
Hence sprung the
Romans,
hence the Race divine
Thro' which great
Caesar
draws his
Julian
Line.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
In rural Seats the Soul of
Pleasure
reigns;
The Life of
Beauty
fills the rural Scenes;
Ev'n
Love
(if
Fame
the Truth of
Love
declare)
Drew first the breathings of a rural Air.
Some pleasing Meadow pregnant
Beauty
prest,
She laid her Infant on its flow'ry Breast,
From Nature's Sweets he sipp'd the fragrant Dew,
He smil'd, he kiss'd them, and by kissing grew.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Now Bulls o'er Stalks of Broom extend their Sides,
Secure of Favours from their lowing Brides.
Now stately Rams their fleecy Consorts lead,
Who bleating follow thro' the wand'ring Shade.
And now the
Goddess
bids the Birds appear,
Raise all their Musick, and salute the Year:
Then deep the Swan begins, and deep the Song
Runs o'er the Water where he sails along;
While
Philomela
tunes a treble Strain,
And from the Poplar charms the list'ning Plain.
We fancy Love exprest at ev'ry Note,
It melts, it warbles, in her liquid Throat.
Of barb'rous
Tereus
she complains no more,
But sings for Pleasure as for Grief before.
And still her Graces rise, her Airs extend,
And all is Silence 'till the
Syren
end.
How long in coming is my lovely Spring?
And when shall I, and when the Swallow sing?
Sweet
Philomela
cease, —Or here I sit,
And silent lose my rapt'rous Hour of Wit:
'Tis gone, the Fit retires, the Flames decay,
My tuneful
Phoebus
flies averse away.
His own
Amycle
thus, as Stories run,
But once was silent, and that once undone.
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
HOMER
's BATRACHOMUOMACHIA: OR, THE BATTEL OF THE
FROGS
and
MICE.
Names
of the
MICE.
PSYCARPAX,
One who plunders Granaries.
Troxartas,
A Bread-eater.
Lychomile,
A Licker of Meal.
Pternotractas,
A Bacon-eater.
Lychopinax,
A Licker of Dishes.
Embasichytros,
A creeper into Pots.
Lychenor,
A Name from Licking.
Troglodytes,
One who runs into Holes.
Artophagus,
Who feeds on Bread.
Tyroglyphus,
A Cheese Scooper,
Pternoglyphus,
A Bacon Scooper.
Pternophogus,
A Bacon eater.
Cnissodioctes,
One who follows the Steam of Kitchins.
Sitophagus,
An eater of Wheat.
Meridarpax,
One who plunders his Share.
Names
of the
FROGS.
PHYSIGNATHUS,
One who swells his Cheeks.
Pelus
A Name from Mud.
Hydromeduse,
A Ruler in the Waters.
Hypsiboas,
A loud Bawler.
Pelion,
From Mud.
Seutlaeus,
Call'd from the Beets.
Polyphonus,
A great Babbler.
Lymnocharis,
One who loves the Lake.
Crambophagus,
Cabbage-eater.
Lymnisius,
Call'd from the Lake.
Calaminthius,
From the Herb.
Hydrocharis,
Who loves the Water.
Borborocates,
Who lies in the Mud.
Prassophagus,
An eater of Garlick.
Pelusius,
From Mud.
Pelobates,
Who walks in the Dirt.
Prassaeus,
Call'd from Garlick.
Craugasides,
From Croaking.
HOMER
's BATTEL of the FROGS,
&c.
BOOK I.
TO fill my rising Song with sacred Fire,
Ye tuneful
Nine,
ye sweet Celestial Quire!
From
Helicon
's imbow'ring Height repair,
Attend my Labours, and reward my Pray'r.
The dreadful Toils of raging
Mars
I write,
The Springs of Contest, and the Fields of Fight;
How threat'ning
Mice
advanc'd with warlike Grace,
And wag'd dire Combats with the
croaking
Race.
Not louder Tumults shook
Olympus'
Tow'rs,
When Earth-born Giants dar'd Immortal Pow'rs.
These equal Acts an equal Glory claim,
And thus the
Muse
records the Tale of Fame.
Once on a Time, fatigu'd and out of Breath,
And just escap'd the stretching Claws of Death,
A Gentle
Mouse,
whom Cats pursu'd in vain,
Fled swift-of-foot across the neighb'ring Plain,
Hung o'er a Brink, his eager Thirst to cool.
And dipt his Whiskers in the standing Pool;
When near a courteous
Frog
advanc'd his Head;
And from the Waters, hoarse-resounding said,
What art thou, Stranger? What the Line you boast?
What Chance hath cast thee panting on our Coast?
With strictest Truth let all thy Words agree,
Nor let me find a faithless Mouse in thee.
If worthy Friendship, proffered Friendship take,
And ent'ring view the pleasureable Lake:
Range o'er my Palace, in my Bounty share,
And glad return from hospitable Fare.
This silver Realm extends beneath my Sway,
And me, their Monarch, all its Frogs obey.
Great
Physignathus
I, from
Peleus'
Race,
Begot in fair
Hydromede
's Embrace,
Where by the nuptial Bank that paints his Side,
The swift
Eridanus
delights to glide.
Thee too, thy Form, thy Strength, and Port proclaim
A scepter'd King; a Son of Martial Fame;
Then trace thy Line, and Aid my guessing Eyes.
Thus ceas'd the
Frog,
and thus the
Mouse
replies.
Known to the Gods, the Men, the Birds that fly
Thro' wild Expanses of the midway Sky,
My Name resounds; and if unknown to thee,
The Soul of Great
Psycarpax
lives in me.
Of brave
Troxartas'
Line, whose sleeky Down
In Love compress'd
Lychomile
the brown.
My Mother she, and Princess of the Plains
Where-e'er her Father
Pternotroctas
reigns:
Born where a Cabin lifts its airy Shed,
With Figs, with Nuts, with vary'd Dainties fed.
But since our Natures nought in common know,
From what Foundation can a Friendship grow?
These curling Waters o'er thy Palace roll;
But Man's high Food supports my Princely Soul.
In vain the circled Loaves attempt to lye
Conceal'd in Flaskets from my curious Eye,
In vain the Tripe that boasts the whitest Hue,
In vain the gilded Bacon shuns my View,
In vain the Cheeses, Offspring of the Pale,
Or honey'd Cakes, which Gods themselves regale,
And as in Arts I shine, in Arms I fight,
Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to Flight.
Tho' large to mine the humane Form appear,
Not
Man
himself can smite my Soul with Fear.
Sly to the Bed with silent Steps I go,
Attempt his Finger, or attack his Toe,
And fix indented Wounds with dext'rous Skill,
Sleeping he feels, and only seems to feel.
Yet have we Foes which direful Dangers cause,
Grim
Owls
with Talons arm'd, and
Cats
with Claws,
And that false
Trap,
the Den of silent Fate,
Where
Death
his Ambush plants around the Bait:
All-dreaded these, and dreadful o'er the rest
The potent Warriors of the tabby Vest,
If to the dark we fly, the Dark they trace,
And rend our Heroes of the
nibling
Race.
But me, nor Stalks, nor watrish Herbs delight,
Nor can the crimson Radish charm my Sight,
The Lake-resounding
Frogs
selected Fare,
Which not a
Mouse
of any Taste can bear.
As thus the downy Prince his Mind exprest,
His Answer thus the croaking King addrest.
Thy Words luxuriant on thy Dainties rove,
And, Stranger, we can boast of bounteous
Jove:
We sport in Water, or we dance on Land,
And born amphibious, Food from both command.
But trust thy self where Wonders ask thy View,
And safely tempt those Seas, I'll bear thee thro':
Ascend my Shoulders, firmly keep thy Seat,
And reach my marshy Court, and feast in State.
He said, and bent his Back; with nimble Bound
Leaps the light Mouse, and clasps his Arms around,
Then wond'ring floats, and sees with glad Survey
The winding Banks resembling Ports at Sea.
But when aloft the curling Water rides,
And wets with azure Wave his downy Sides,
His Thoughts grow conscious of approaching Woe,
His idle Tears with vain Repentance flow,
His Locks he rends, his trembling Feet he rears,
Thick beats his Heart with unaccustom'd Fears;
He sighs, and chill'd with Danger, longs for Shore:
His Tail extended forms a fruitless Oar,
Half-drench'd in liquid Death his Pray'rs he spake,
And thus bemoan'd him from the dreadful Lake.
So pass'd
Europa
thro' the rapid Sea,
Trembling and fainting all the vent'rous Way;
With oary Feet the
Bull
triumphant road,
And safe in
Crete
depos'd his lovely Load.
Ah safe at last! may thus the
Frog
support
My trembling Limbs to reach his ample Court.
As thus he sorrows, Death ambiguous grows,
Lo! from the deep a Water-
Hydra
rose;
He rolls his sanguin'd Eyes, his Bosom heaves,
And darts with active Rage along the Waves.
Confus'd, the Monarch sees his hissing Foe,
And dives to shun the sable Fates below.
Forgetful
Frog!
The Friend thy Shoulders bore,
Unskill'd in Swimming, floats remote from Shore.
He grasps with fruitless Hands to find Relief,
Supinely falls, and grinds his Teeth with Grief,
Plunging he sinks, and struggling mounts again,
And sinks, and strives, but strives with Fate in vain.
The weighty Moisture clogs his hairy Vest,
And thus the
Prince
his dying Rage exprest.
Nor thou, that flings me flound'ring from thy Back,
As from hard Rocks rebounds the shatt'ring Wrack,
Nor thou shalt'scape thy Due, perfidious King!
Pursu'd by Vengeance on the swiftest Wing:
At Land thy Strength could never equal mine,
At Sea to conquer, and by Craft, was thine.
But Heav'n has Gods, and Gods have searching Eyes:
Ye
Mice,
ye
Mice,
my great Avengers rise!
This said, he sighing gasp'd,' and gasping dy'd.
His Death the young
Lychopinax
espy'd,
As on the flow'ry Brink he pass'd the Day,
Bask'd in the Beams, and loyter'd Life away.
Loud shrieks the
Mouse,
his Shrieks the Shores repeat;
The nibbling Nation learn their Heroe's Fate:
Grief, dismal Grief ensues; deep Murmurs sound,
And shriller Fury fills the deafen'd Ground.
From Lodge to Lodge the
sacred Heralds
run,
To fix their Council with the rising Sun;
Where great
Troxartas
crown'd in Glory reigns,
And winds his length'ning Court beneath the Plains;
Psycarpax
Father, Father now no more!
For poor
Psycarpax
lies remote from Shore;
Supine he lies! the silent Waters stand,
And no kind Billow wafts the
Dead
to Land!
HOMER
's BATTEL of the FROGS,
&c.
BOOK II.
WHEN rosy-finger'd Morn had ting'd the Clouds,
Around their
Monarch-Mouse
the Nation crouds,
Slow rose the Sov'reign, heav'd his anxious Breast,
And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.
For lost
Psycarpax
much my Soul endures,
'Tis mine the private Grief, the publick, yours.
Three warlike Sons adorn'd my nuptial Bed,
Three Sons, alas, before their Father dead!
Our Eldest perished by the rav'ning
Cat,
As near my Court the
Prince
unheedful sate.
Our next, an Engine fraught with Danger drew,
The Portal gap'd, the Bait was hung in View,
Dire
Arts
assist the
Trap,
the
Fates
decoy,
And Men unpitying kill'd my
gallant Boy!
The last, his
Country
's Hope, his
Parent
's Pride,
Plung'd in the Lake by
Physignathus,
dy'd.
Rouse all the War, my Friends! avenge the Deed,
And bleed that
Monarch,
and his
Nation
bleed.
His Words in ev'ry Breast inspir'd Alarms,
And careful
Mars
supply'd their Host with Arms.
In verdant Hulls despoil'd of all their Beans,
The buskin'd Warriors stalk'd along the Plains:
Quills aptly bound, their bracing Corselet made,
Fac'd with the Plunder of a Cat they flay'd:
The Lamp's round Boss affords their ample Shield;
Large Shells of Nuts their cov'ring Helmet yield;
And o'er the Region, with reflected Rays,
Tall Groves of Needles for their Lances blaze.
Dreadful in Arms the marching
Mice
appear;
The wond'ring
Frogs
perceive the Tumult near,
Forsake the Waters, thick'ning form a Ring,
And ask, and hearken, whence the Noises spring.
When near the Croud, disclos'd to publick View,
The valiant Chief
Embasichytros
drew:
The sacred Herald's Scepter grac'd his Hand,
And thus his Words exprest his King's Command.
Ye
Frogs!
the
Mic
with Vengeance fir'd, advance,
And deckt in Armour shake the shining Lance:
Their hapless Prince by
Physignathus
slain,
Extends incumbent on the watry Plain.
Then arm your Host, the doubtful Battel try;
Lead forth those
Frogs
that have the Soul to die.
The Chief retires, the Crowd the Challenge hear,
And proudly-swelling yet perplex'd appear,
Much they resent, yet much their
Monarch
blame,
Who rising, spoke to clear his tainted Fame.
O Friends, I never forc'd the
Mouse
to Death,
Nor saw the Gaspings of his latest Breath.
He, vain of Youth, our Art of Swimming try'd'
And vent'rous, in the Lake the Wanton dy'd.
To Vengeance now by false Appearance led,
They point their Anger at my guiltless Head.
But wage the rising War by deep Device,
And turn its Fury on the crafty
Mice.
Your
King
directs the Way; my Thoughts elate
With Hopes of Conquest, form Designs of Fate.
Where high the Banks their verdant Surface heave,
And the steep Sides confine the sleeping Wave,
There, near the Margin, clad in Armour bright,
Sustain the first impetuous Shocks of Fight:
Then, where the dancing Feather joins the Crest,
Let each brave
Frog
his obvious
Mouse
arrest;
Each strongly grasping, headlong plunge a Foe,
'Till countless Circles whirl the Lake below;
Down sink the
Mice
in yielding Waters drown'd;
Loud flash the Waters; and the Shores resound:
The
Frogs
triumphant tread the conquer'd Plain,
And raise their glorious Trophies of the slain.
He spake no more, his prudent Scheme imparts
Redoubling Ardour to the boldest Hearts.
Green was the Suit his arming Heroes chose,
Around their Legs the Greaves of Mallows close,
Green were the Beets about their Shoulders laid,
And green the Colewort, which the Target made.
Form'd of the vary'd Shells the Waters yield,
Their glossy Helmets glist'ned o'er the Field:
And tap'ring Sea-Reeds for the polish'd Spear,
With upright Order pierc'd the ambient Air.
Thus dress'd for War, they take th' appointed Height,
Poize the long Arms, and urge the promis'd Fight.
But now, where
Jove
's irradiate Spires arise,
With Stars surrounded in Aethereal Skies,
(A Solemn Council call'd) the brazen Gates
Unbar; the Gods assume their golden Seats:
The Sire superior leans, and points to show
What wond'rous Combats Mortals wage below:
How strong, how large, the num'rous Heroes stride!
What Length of Lance they shake with warlike Pride!
What eager Fire, their rapid March reveals!
So the fierce
Centaurs
ravag'd o'er the Dales;
And so confirm'd, the daring
Titans
rose,
Heap'd Hills on Hills, and bid the Gods be Foes.
This seen, the Pow'r his sacred Visage rears,
He casts a pitying Smile on worldly Cares,
And asks what heav'nly Guardians take the List,
Or who the
Mice,
or who the
Frogs
assist?
Then thus to
Pallas.
If my Daughter's Mind
Have join'd the
Mice,
why stays she still behind;
Drawn forth by sav'ry Steams they wind their Way,
And sure Attendance round thine Altar pay,
Where while the Victims gratify their Taste,
They sport to please the Goddess of the Feast.
Thus spake the Ruler of the spacious Skies,
But thus, resolv'd, the blue-ey'd Maid replies.
In vain, my Father! all their Dangers plead,
To such, thy
Pallas
never grants her Aid.
My flow'ry Wreaths they petulantly spoil,
And rob my chrystal Lamps of feeding Oil.
(Ills following Ills) but what afflicts me more,
My Veil, that idle Race profanely tore.
The Web was curious, wrought with Art divine;
Relentless Wretches! all the Work was mine!
Along the Loom the purple Warp I spread,
Cast the light Shoot, and crost the silver Thread;
In this their Teeth a thousand Breaches tear,
The thousand Breaches skilful Hands repair,
For which vile earthly Dunns thy Daughter grieve,
(The Gods, that use no Coin, have none to give.
And Learning's Goddess never less can owe,
Neglected Learning gains no Wealth below.)
Nor let the
Frogs
to win my Succour sue,
Those clam'rous Fools have lost my Favour too.
For late, when all the Conflict ceast at Night,
When mystretch'd Sinews work'd with eager Fight,
When spent with glorious Toil, I left the Field,
And sunk for Slumber on my swelling Shield;
Lo from the Deep, repelling sweet Repose,
With noisy Croakings half the Nation rose:
Devoid of Rest, with aking Brows I lay,
'Till Cocks proclaim'd the crimson Dawn of Day.
Let all, like me, from either Host forbear,
Nor tempt the flying Furies of the Spear.
Let heav'nly Blood (or what for Blood may flow)
Adorn the Conquest of a meaner Foe,
Some daring Mouse may meet the wond'rous Odds,
Tho' Gods oppose, and brave the wounded Gods.
O'er gilded Clouds reclin'd, the Danger view,
And be the Wars of Mortals Scenes for you.
So mov'd the
blue-ey'd Queen;
her Words persuade,
Great
Jove
assented, and the rest obey'd.
HOMER
's BATTEL of the: FROGS,
&c.
BOOK III.
NOW Front to Front the marching Armies shine,
Halt e'er they meet, and form the length'ning Line:
The Chiefs conspicuous seen and heard afar,
Give the loud Signal to the rushing War;
Their dreadful Trumpets deep mouth'd Hornets sound,
The sounded Charge remurmurs o'er the Ground,
Ev'n
Jove
proclaims a Field of Horror nigh,
And rolls low Thunder thro' the troubled Sky.
First to the Fighr the large
Hypsiboas
flew,
And brave
Lychenor
with a Javelin slew.
The luckless Warrior fill'd with gen'rous Flame,
Stood foremost glitt'ring in the Post of Fame;
When in his Liver struck, the Jav'lin hung;
The
Mouse
fell thund'ring, and the Target rung;
Prone to the Ground he sinks his closing Eye,
And soil'd in Dust his lovely Tresses lie.
A Spear at
Pelion Troglodytes
cast,
The missive Spear within the Bosom past;
Death's sable Shades the fainting
Frog
surround,
And Life's red Tide runs ebbing from the Wound.
Embasichytros
felt
Seutlaeus'
Dart
Transfix, and quiver in his panting Heart;
But great
Artophagus
aveng'd the slain,
And big
Seutlaeus
tumbling loads the Plain,
And
Polyphonus
dies, a
Frog
renown'd,
For boastful Speech and Turbulence of Sound;
Deep thro' the Belly pierc'd, supine he lay,
And breath'd his Soul against the Face of Day.
The strong
Lymnocharis,
who view'd with Ire,
A Victor triumph, and a Friend expire;
And fiercely flung where
Troglodytes
fought;
With heaving Arms a rocky Fragment caught,
(A Warrior vers'd in Arts, of sure Retreat,
But Arts in vain elude impending Fate;)
Full on his sinewy Neck the Fragment fell,
And o'er his Eye-lids Clouds eternal dwell.
Lychenor
(second of the glorious Name)
Striding advanc'd, and took no wand'ring Aim;
Thro' all the
Frog
the shining Jav'lin flies,
And near the vanquish'd
Mouse
the Victor dies;
The dreadful Stroke
Crambophagus
affrights,
Long bred to Banquets, less inur'd to Fights,
Heedless he runs, and stumbles o'er the Steep,
And wildly flound'ring flashes up the Deep;
Lychenor
following with a downward Blow,
Reach'd in the Lake his unrecover'd Foe;
Gasping he rolls, a purple Stream of Blood
Distains the Surface of the Silver Flood;
Thro' the wide Wound the rushing Entrails throng,
And slow the breathless Carkass floats along.
Lymnisius
good
Tyroglyphus
assails,
Prince of the
Mice
that haunt the flow'ry Vales,
Lost to the milky Fares and rural Seat,
He came to perish on the Bank of Fate.
The dread
Pternoglyphus
demands the Fight,
Which tender
Calaminthius
shuns by Flight,
Drops the green Target, springing quits the Foe,
Glides thro' the Lake, and safely dives below.
But dire
Pternophagus
divides his Way
Thro' breaking Ranks, and leads the dreadful Day.
No nibbling Prince excell'd in Fierceness more,
His Parents fed him on the savage Boar;
But where his Lance the Field with Blood imbru'd,
Swift as he mov'd,
Hydrocharis
pursu'd,
'Till fall'n in Death he lies, a shatt'ring Stone
Sounds on the Neck, and crushes all the Bone,
His Blood pollutes the Verdure of the Pialn,
And from his Nostrils bursts the gushing Brain.
Lycopinax
with
Borbocaetes
fights
A blameless
Frog,
whom humbler Life delights;
The fatal Jav'lin unrelenting flies,
And Darkness seals the gentle Croaker's Eyes.
Incens'd
Prassophagus
with spritely Bound,
Bears
Cnissiodortes
off the rising Ground,
Thendragshim o'er the Lake depriv'd of Breath,
And downward plunging, sinks his Soul to Death.
But now the great
Psycarpax
shines afar,
(Scarce he so great whose Loss provok'd the War)
Swift to Revenge his fatal Jav'lin fled,
And thro' the Liver struck
Pelusius
dead;
His freckled Corps before the Victor fell,
His Soul indignant fought the Shades of Hell.
This saw
Pelobates,
and from the Flood
Heav'd with both Hands a monst'rous Mass of Mud,
The Cloud obscene o'er all the Hero flies,
Dishonours his brown Face, and blots his Eyes.
Enrag'd, and wildly sputt'ring, from the Shore
A Stone immense of Size the Warrior bore,
A Load for lab'ring Earth, (whose Bulk to raise,
Asks ten degen'rate
Mice
of modern Days.)
Full on the Leg arrives the crushing Wound;
The
Frog
supportless, wriths upon the Ground.
Thus flush'd, the Victor wars with matchless Force,
'Till loud
Craugasides
arrests his Course,
Hoarse-croaking Threats precede! with fatal Speed
Deep thro' the Belly run the pointed Reed,
Then strongly tug'd, return'd imbru'd with Gore,
And on the Pile his reeking Entrails bore.
The lame
Sitophagus
oppress'd with Pain,
Creeps from the desp'rate Dangers of the Plain;
And where the Ditches rising Weeds supply
To spread their lowly Shades beneath the Sky,
There lurks the silent
Mouse
reliev'd from Heat
And safe embowr'd, avoids the Chance of Fate.
But here
Troxartes, Physignathus
there,
Whirl the dire Furies of the pointed Spear:
But where the Foot around its Ankle plies,
Troxartes
wounds, and
Physignathus
flies,
Halts to the Pool, a safe Retreat to find,
And trails a dangling Length of Leg behind.
The
Mouse
still urges, still the
Frog
retires,
And half in Anguish of the Flight expires:
Then pious Ardor young
Prassaeus
brings,
Betwixt the Fortunes of contending Kings:
Lank, harmless
Frog!
with Forces hardly grown,
He darts the Reed in Combats not his own,
Which faintly tinkling on
Troxartes'
Shield,
Hangs at the Point, and drops upon the Field.
Now nobly tow'ring o'er the rest appears
A gallant Prince that far transcends his Years,
Pride of his Sire, and Glory of his House,
And more a
Mars
in Combat than a
Mouse:
His Action bold, robust his ample Frame,
And
Meridarpax
his resounding Name.
The Warrior singled from the fighting Crowd,
Boasts the dire Honours of his Arms aloud;
Then strutting near the Lake, with Looks elate;
To all its Nations threats approaching Fate.
And such his Strength, the Silver Lakes around
Might roll their Waters o'er unpeopled Ground.
But pow'rful
Jove,
who shews no less his Grace
To
Frogs
that perish, than to human Race,
Felt soft Compassion rising in his Soul,
And shook his sacred Head, that shook the Pole.
Then thus to all the gazing Pow'rs began
The Sire of
Gods,
and
Frogs,
and
Mice,
and
Man,
What Seas of Blood I view! what Worlds of slain!
An Iliad rising from a Day's Campaign!
How fierce his Jav'lin o'er the trembling Lakes
The black-fur'd Hero
Meridarpax
shakes!
Unless some fav'ring Deity descend,
Soon will the
Frogs
loquacious Empire end.
Let dreadful
Pallas
wing'd with Pity fly,
And make her
AEgis
blaze before his Eye:
While
Mars
refulgent on his ratling Car,
Arrests his raging Rival of the War.
He ceas'd, reclining with attentive Head,
When thus the glorious God of Combats said.
Nor
Pallas, Jove!
tho'
Pallas
take the Field,
With all the Terrors of her hissing Shield,
Nor
Mars
himself, tho'
Mars
in Armour bright
Ascend his Car, and wheel amidst the Fight;
Not these can drive the des'prate
Mouse
afar,
Or change the Fortunes of the bleeding War.
Let all go forth, all Heav'n in Arms arise,
Or launch thy own red Thunder from the Skies.]
Such ardent Bolts as flew that wond'rous Day,
When Heaps of
Titans
mix'd with Mountains lay,
When all the Giant-Race enormous fell,
And huge
Enceladus
was hurl'd to Hell.
'Twas thus th' Armipotent advis'd the Gods,
When from his Throne the Cloud-Compeller nods,
Deep length'ning Thunders run from Pole to Pole,
Olympus
trembles as the Thunders roll.
Then swift he whirls the brandish'd Bolt around,
And headlong darts it at the distant Ground,
The Bolt discharg'd inwrap'd with Light'ning flies,
And rends its flaming Passage thro' the Skies,
Then
Earth
's Inhabitants, the Niblers, shake,
And
Frogs,
the Dwellers in the
Waters,
quake.
Yet still the
Mice
advance their dread Design,
And the last Danger threats the croaking Line,
'Till
Jove
that inly mourn'd the Loss they bore,
With strange Assistants fill'd the frighted Shore.
Pour'd from the neighb'ring Strand, deform'd to View,
They march, a sudden unexpected Crew!
Strong Sutes of Armor round their Bodies close,
Which, like thick Anvils, blunt the Force of Blows;
In wheeling Marches turn'd oblique they go;
With Harpy Claws their Limbs divide below;
Fell Sheers the Passage to their Mouth command;
From out the Flesh their Bones by Nature stand;
Broad spread their Backs, their shining Shoulders rise;
Unnumber'd Joints distort their lengthen'd Thighs;
With nervous Cords their Hands are firmly brac'd;
Their round black Eye-balls in their Bosom plac'd;
On eight long Feet the wond'rous Warriors tread;
And either end alike supplies a Head.
These, mortal Wits to call the
Crabs,
agree,
The Gods have other Names for Things than we.
Now where the Jointures from their Loins depend,
The Heroes Tails with sev'ring Grasps they rend.
Here, short of Feet, depriv'd the Pow'r to fly,
There, without Hands, upon the Field they lie.
Wrench'd from their Holds, and scatter'd all around,
The bended Lances heap the cumber'd Ground.
Helpless Amazement, Fear pursuing Fear,
And mad Confusion thro' their Host appear:
O'er the wild Wast with headlong Flight they go,
Or creep conceal'd in vaulted Holes below.
But down
Olympus
to the Western Seas
Far-shooting
Phoebus
drove with fainter Rays;
And a whole War (so
Jove
ordain'd) begun,
Was fought, and ceas'd, in one revolving Sun.
To Mr.
POPE.
TO praise, yet still with due Respect to praise,
A
Bard
triumphant in immortal Bays,
The
Learn'd
to show, the
Sensible
commend,
Yet still preserve the Province of the
Friend,
What Life, what Vigour, must the Lines require?
What Musick tune them? what Affection fire?
O might thy Genius in my Bosom shine!
Thou shouldst not fail of Numbers worthy thine,
The brightest Antients might at once agree
To sing within my Lays, and sing of thee.
Horace
himself wou'd own thou dost excell
In candid Arts to play the Critick well.
Ovid
himself might wish to sing the Dame
Whom
Windsor
Forest sees a gliding Stream,
On silver Feet, with annual Osier crown'd,
She runs for ever thro' Poetick Ground.
How flame the Glories of
Belinda
's Hair,
Made by thy Muse the Envy of the Fair;
Less shone the Tresses
Aegypt
's Princess wore,
Which sweet
Callimachus
so sung before.
Here courtly Trifles set the World at odds,
Belles
war with
Beaus,
and
Whims
descend for
Gods,
The new
Machines
in Names of Ridicule,
Mock the grave Phrenzy of the
Chimick
Fool.
But know, ye Fair, a Point conceal'd with Art,
The
Sylphs
and
Gnomes
are but a Woman's Heart:
The
Graces
stand in sight; a
Satyr
Train
Peep o'er their Heads, and laugh behind the Scene.
In
Fame
's fair
Temple,
o'er the boldest Wits
Inshrin'd on high the sacred
Virgil
sits,
And sits in Measures, such as
Virgil
's Muse
To place thee near him might be fond to chuse.
How might he tune th' alternate Reed with thee,
Perhaps a
Strephon
thou, a
Daphnis
he,
While some old
Damon
o'er the Vulgar wise
Thinks he deserves, and thou deserv'sf the Prize.
Rapt with the Thought my
Fancy
seeks the Plains,
And turns me Shepherd while I hear the Strains.
Indulgent Nurse of ev'ry tender Gale,
Parent of Flowrets, old
Arcadia hail!
Here in the cool my Limbs at ease I spread,
Here let thy Poplars whisper o'er my Head,
Still slide thy Waters soft among the Trees,
Thy Aspins quiver in a breathing Breeze,
Smile all thy Vallies in eternal Spring,
Be hush'd, ye Winds! while
Pope
and
Virgil
sing.
In
English
Lays, and all sublimely great,
Thy
Homer
warms with all his antient Heat,
He shines in Council, thunders in the Fight,
And flames with ev'ry Sense of great Delight.
Long has that
Poet
reign'd, and long unknown,
Like Monarchs sparkling on a distant Throne;
In all the Majesty of
Greek
retir'd,
Himself unknown, his mighty Name admir'd,
His Language failing, wrap'd him round with Night,
Thine rais'd by thee, recals the Work to light.
So wealthy Mines, that Ages long before
Fed the large Realms around with Golden Oar,
When choak'd by sinking Banks, no more appear,
And Shepherds only say,
The Mines were here:
Shou'd some rich Youth (if Nature warm his Heart,
And all his Projects stand inform'd with Art)
Here clear the Caves, there ope the leading Vein;
The Mines detected flame with Gold again.
How vast, how copious are thy new Designs!
How ev'ry Musick varies in thy Lines!
Still as I read, I feel my Bosom beat,
And rise in Raptures by another's Heat.
Thus in the Wood, when Summer dress'd the Days,
When
Windsor
lent us tuneful Hours of Ease,
Our Ears the Lark, the Thrush, the Turtle blest,
And
Philomela
sweetest o're the rest:
The Shades resound with Song—O softly tread!
While a whole Season warbles round my Head.
This to my Friend—and when a Friend inspires
My silent Harp its Masters Hand requires,
Shakes off the Dust, and makes these Rocks resound,
For Fortune plac't me in unfertile Ground;
Far from the Joys that with my Soul agree,
From Wit, from Learning,—far, oh far from thee!
Here Moss-grown Trees expand the smallest Leaf,
Here half an Acre's Corn is half a Sheaf,
Here Hills with naked Heads the Tempest meet,
Rocks at their Side, and Torrents at their Feet,
Or lazy Lakes unconscious of a Flood,
Whose dull brown
Naiads
ever sleep in Mud.
Yet here Content can dwell, and Learned Ease,
A Friend delight me, and an Author please,
Ev'n here I sing, while
Pope
supplies the Theme,
Show my own Love, tho' not increase his Fame.
Part of the first Canto of the
Rape of the Lock.
AND now unveil'd, the
Toilet
stands display'd,
Each Silver Vase in mystick order laid.
First, rob'd in white, the Nymph intent adores
With Head uncover'd, the
Cosmetic
Pow'rs.
A heav'nly Image in the Glass appears,
To that she bends, to that her Eyes she rears;
Th' inferior Priestess, at her Altar's side,
Trembling, begins the sacred Rites of Pride.
Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once, and here
The various Off'rings of the World appear;
From each she nicely culls with curious Toil,
And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring Spoil,
This Casket
India
's glowing Gems unlocks,
And all
Arabia
breathes from yonder Box.
The Tortoise here and Elephant unite,
Transform'd to Combs, the speckled, and the white.
Here files of Pins extend their shining rows,
Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux.
Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms,
The Fair each Moment rises in her Charms,
Repairs her Smiles, awakens ev'ry Grace,
And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face;
Sees by degrees a purer Blush arise,
And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes.
The busy
Sylphs
surround their darling Care;
These set the Head, and those divide the Hair,
Some fold the Sleeve, while others plait the Gown,
And
Betty
's prais'd for Labours not her own.
A
TRANSLATION
of part of the first Canto of the
Rape of the Lock,
into Leonine Verse, after the manner of the ancient Monks.
ET nunc dilectum speculum, pro more retectum,
Emicat in mensâ, quae splendet pyxide densâ:
Tum primum lymphâ, se purgat candida Nympha;
Jamque sine mendâ, coelestis imago videnda,
Nuda caput, bellos retinet, regit, implet, ocellos.
Hâc stupet explorans, seu cultus numen adorans.
Inferior claram
Pythonissa
apparet ad aram,
Fertque tibi cautè, dicatque Superbia! lautè,
Dona venusta; oris, quae cunctis, plena laboris,
Excerpta explorat, dominamque deamque decorat.
Pyxide devotâ, se pandit hic
India
tota,
Et tota existâ transpirat
Arabia
cistâ;
Testudo hic flectit, dum se mea Lesbia pectit;
Atque elephas lentè, te pectit Lesbia dente;
Hunc maculis nôris, nivei jacet ille coloris.
Hic jacet & mundè, mundus muliebris abundè;
Spinula resplendens aeris longo ordine pendens,
Pulvis suavis odore, & epistola suavis amore.
Induit arma ergo, Veneris pulcherrima virgo;
Pulchrior in praesens tempus de tempore crescens;
Jam reparat risus, jam surgit gratia visûs,
Jam promit cultu, mirac'la latentia vultu.
Pigmina jam miscet, quo plus sua Purpura gliscet,
Et geminans bellis splendet magè fulgor ocellis.
Stant
Lemures
muti, Nymphae intentique saluti,
Hic figit Zonam, capiti locat ille Coronam,
Haec manicis formam, plicis dat & altera normam;
Et tibi vel
Betty,
tibi vel nitidissima
Letty!
Gloria factorum temerè conceditur horum,
HEALTH,
an
ECLOGUE.
NOW early Shepherds o'er the Meadow pass,
And print long Foot-steps in the glittering Grass;
The Cows neglectful of their Pasture stand,
By turns obsequious to the Milker's Hand.
When
Damon
softly trod the shaven Lawn,
Damon
a Youth from City Cares withdrawn;
Long was the pleasing Walk he wander'd thro',
A cover'd Arbour clos'd the distant view;
There rests the
Youth,
and while the feather'd Throng
Raise their wild Musick, thus contrives a Song.
Here wafted o'er by mild
Etesian
Air,
Thou Country
Goddess,
beauteous
Health!
repair;
Here let my Breast thro' quiv'ring Trees inhale
Thy rosy Blessings with the Morning Gale.
What are the Fields, or Flow'rs, or all I see?
Ah! tastless all, if not enjoy'd with thee.
Joy to my Soul! I feel the
Goddess
nigh,
The Face of Nature cheers as well as I;
O'er the flat Green refreshing Breezes run,
The smiling Dazies blow beneath the Sun,
The Brooks run purling down with silver Waves,
The planted Lanes rejoice with dancing Leaves,
The chirping Birds from all the Compass rove
To tempt the tuneful Echoes of the Grove:
High sunny Summits, deeply shaded Dales,
Thick Mossy Banks, and flow'ry winding Vales,
With various Prospect gratify the Sight,
And scatter fix'd Attention in Delight.
Come, Country
Goddess,
come, nor thou suffice,
But bring thy Mountain-Sister,
Exercise.
Call'd by thy lively Voice, she turns her Pace,
Her winding Horn proclaims the finish'd Chace;
She mounts the Rocks, she skims the level Plain,
Dogs, Hawks, and Horses, crow'd her early Train;
Her hardy Face repels the tanning Wind,
And Lines and Meshes loosely float behind.
All these as Means of Toil the Feeble see,
But these are helps to Pleasure join'd with thee.
Let
Sloth
lye softning'till high Noon in Down,
Or lolling fan her in the sult'ry Town,
Unnerv'd with Rest; and turn her own Disease,
Or foster others in luxurious Ease:
I mount the Courser, call the deep mouth'd Hounds,
The Fox unkennell'd flies to covert Grounds;
I lead where Stags thro' tangled Thickets tread,
And shake the Saplings with their branching Head;
I make the Faulcons wing their airy Way,
And soar to seize, or stooping strike their Prey;
To snare the Fish I fix the luring Bait;
To wound the Fowl I load the Gun with Fate.
'Tis thus thro' change of Exercise I range,
And Strength and Pleasure rise from ev'ry Change.
Here beauteous
Health
for all the Year remain,
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
Oh come, thou
Goddess
of my rural Song,
And bring thy Daughter, calm
Content,
along,
Dame of the ruddy Cheek and laughing Eye,
From whose bright Presence Clouds of Sorrow fly:
For her I mow my Walks, I platt my Bow'rs,
Clip my low Hedges, and support my Flow'rs;
To welcome her, this Summer Seat I drest,
And here I court her when she comes to Rest;
When she from Exercise to learned Ease
Shall change again, and teach the Change to please.
Now Friends conversing my soft Hours refine,
And
Tully
's
Tusculum
revives in mine:
Now to grave Books I bid the Mind retreat,
And such as make me rather Good than Great.
Or o'er the Works of easy
Fancy
rove,
Where Flutes and Innocence amuse the Grove:
The native
Bard
that on
Sicilian
Plains
First sung the lowly Manners of the Swains;
Or
Maro
's Muse, that in the fairest Light
Paints rural Prospects and the Charms of Sight;
These soft
Amusements
bring
Content
along,
And
Fancy,
void of Sorrow, turns to
Song.
Here beauteous
Health
for all the Year remain,
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
The
FLIES.
An
ECLOGUE.
WHEN in the River Cows for Coolness stand,
And Sheep for Breezes seek the lofty Land,
A Youth whom
Aesop
taught that ev'ry Tree
Each Bird and Insect spoke as well as he:
Walk'd calmly musing in a shaded Way
Where flow'ring Hawthorn broke the sunny Ray,
And thus instructs his Moral Pen to draw
A Scene that obvious in the Field he saw.
Near a low Ditch, where shallow Waters meet,
Which never learnt to glide with liquid Feet,
Whose
Naiads
never prattle as they play,
But screen'd with Hedges slumber out the Day,
There stands a slender Fern's aspiring Shade,
Whose answ'ring Branches regularly layd
Put forth their answ'ring Boughs, and proudly rise
Three Stories upward, in the nether Skies.
For Shelter here, to shun the Noon-day Heat,
An airy Nation of the
Flies
retreat;
Some in soft Air their silken Pinions ply,
And some from Bough to Bough delighted fly,
Some rise, and circling light to perch again;
A pleasing Murmur hums along the Plain.
So, when a Stage invites to pageant Shows,
(If great and small are like) appear the
Beaus,
In Boxes some with spruce Pretension sit,
Some change from Seat to Seat within the Pit,
Some roam the Scenes, or turning cease to roam;
Preluding Musick fills the lofty Dome.
When thus a Fly (if what a Fly can say
Deserves attention) rais'd the rural Lay.
Where late
Aminter
made a Nymph a Bride,
Joyful I flew by young
Favonia
's side,
Who, mindless of the Feasting, went to sip
The balmy Pleasure of the Shepherd's Lip.
I saw the Wanton, where I stoop'd to sup,
And half resolv'd to drown me in the Cup;
'Till brush'd by careless Hands, she soar'd above:
Cease, Beauty, cease to vex a tender Love.
Thus ends the Youth, the buzzing Meadow rung,
And thus the Rival of his Musick sung.
When Suns by thousands shone in Orbs of Dew,
I wafted soft with
Zephyretta
flew;
Saw the clean Pail, and sought the milky Chear,
While little
Daphne
seiz'd my roving Dear.
Wretch that I was! I might have warn'd the Dame,
Yet sat indulging as the Danger came,
But the kind Huntress left her free to soar:
Ah! guard, ye
Lovers,
guard a Mistress more.
Thus from the Fern, whose high-projecting Arms,
The fleeting Nation bent with dusky Swarms,
The
Swains
their Love in easy Musick breathe,
When Tongues and Tumult stun the Field beneath.
Black
Ants
in Teams come darkning all the Road,
Some call to march, and some to lift the Load;
They strain, they labour with incessant Pains
Press'd by the cumbrous weight of single Grains.
The Flies struck silent gaze with Wonder down:
The busy
Burghers
reach their earthy Town;
Where lay the Burthens of a wint'ry Store,
And thence unwearied part in search more.
Yet one grave
Sage
a Moment's space attends,
And the small City's loftiest Point ascends,
Wipes the salt Dew that trickles down his Face,
And thus harangues them with the gravest Grace.
Ye foolish
Nurslings
of the Summer Air,
These gentle Tunes and whining Songs forbear;
Your
Trees
and whisp'ring
Breeze,
your
Grove
and
Love.
Your Cupids Quiver, and his Mother's Dove,
Let Bards to Business bend their vig'rous Wing,
And sing but seldom, if they love to sing:
Else, when the Flourets of the Season fail,
And this your Ferny Shade forsakes the Vale,
Tho' one would save ye, not one Grain of Wheat
Shou'd pay such Songsters idling at my Gate.
He ceas'd: The Flies, incorrigibly vain,
Heard the
May'r
's
Speech,
and fell to sing again.
AN ELEGY,
To an Old
BEAUTY.
IN vain, poor Nymph, to please our youthful sight
You sleep in Cream and Frontlets all the Night,
Your Face with Patches soil, with Paint repair,
Dress with gay Gowns, and shade with foreign Hair.
If Truth in spight of Manners must be told,
Why really
Fifty Five
is something old.
Once you were young; or one, whose Life's so long
She might have born my Mother, tells me wrong.
And once (since Envy's dead before you dye,)
The Women own, you play'd a sparkling Eye,
Taught the light Foot a modish little Trip,
And pouted with the prettiest purple Lip—
To some new Charmer are the Roses fled,
Which blew, to damask all thy Cheek with red;
Youth
calls the
Graces
there to fix their Reign,
And
Airs
by thousands fill their easy Train.
So parting Summer bids her flow'ry Prime
Attend the Sun to dress some foreign Clime,
While with'ring Seasons in Succession, here,
Strip the gay Gardens, and deform the Year.
But thou (since Nature bids) the World resign,
'Tis now thy Daughter's Daughter's time to shine.
With more Address, (or such as pleases more)
She runs her Female Exercises o'er,
Unfurls or closes, raps or turns the Fan,
And smiles, or blushes at the Creature Man.
With quicker Life, as guilded Coaches pass,
In sideling Courtesy the drops the Glass.
With better Strength, on Visit-days she bears
To mount her fifty Flights of ample Stairs.
Her Mein, her Shape, her Temper, Eyes and Tongue
Are sure to conquer.—for the Rogue is young;
And all that's madly wild, or oddly gay,
We call it only pretty
Fanny
's way.
Let Time that makes you homely, make you sage,
The Sphere of Wisdom is the Sphere of Age.
'Tis true, when Beauty dawns with early Fire,
And hears the flatt'ring Tongues of soft Desire,
If not from Virtue, from its gravest Ways
The Soul with pleasing Avocation strays.
But Beauty gone, 'tis easier to be wise;
As Harpers better, by the loss of Eyes.
Henceforth retire, reduce your roving Airs,
Haunt less the Plays, and more the publick Pray'rs,
Reject the
Mechlin
Head, and gold Brocade,
Go pray, in sober
Norwich
Crape array'd.
Thy pendent Diamonds let thy
Fanny
take,
(Their trembling Lustre shows how much you shake;)
Or bid her wear thy Necklace row'd with Pearl,
You'll find your
Fanny
an obedient Girl.
So for the rest, with less Incumbrance hung,
You walk thro' Life, unmingled with the young;
And view the
Shade
and
Substance
as you pa
s
With joint Endeavour trifling at the Glass,
Or
Folly
drest, and rambling all her Days,
To meet her Counterpart, and grow by
Praise:
Yet still sedate your self, and gravely plain,
You neither fret, nor envy at the Vain.
'Twas thus (if Man with Woman we compare)
The wise
Athenian
crost a glittering Fair,
Unmov'd by Tongues and Sights, hewalk'd the place,
Thro' Tape, Toys, Tinsel, Gimp, Perfume, and Lace;
Then bends from
Mars
's Hill his awful Eyes,
And
What a World I never want?
he cries;
But cries unheard: For
Folly
will be free.
So parts the buzzing gaudy Crowd, and He:
As careless he for them, as they for him;
He wrapt in
Wisdom,
and they whirl'd by
Whim.
The
BOOK-WORM.
COME hither, Boy, we'll hunt to Day
The
Book-Worm,
ravening Beast of Prey,
Produc'd by Parent
Earth,
at odds
(As Fame reports it) with the
Gods.
Him frantick Hunger wildly drives
Against a thousand Authors Lives:
Thro' all the Fields of Wit he flies;
Dreadful his Head with clust'ring Eyes,
With Horns without, and Tusks within,
And Scales to serve him for a Skin.
Observe him nearly, lest he climb
To wound the Bards of antient Time,
Or down the Vale of Fancy go
To tear some modern Wretch below:
On ev'ry Corner fix thine Eye,
Or ten to one he slips thee by.
See where his Teeth a Passage eat:
We'll rouse him from the deep Retreat.
But who the Shelter's forc'd to give?
'Tis Sacred
Virgil
as I live!
From Leaf to Leaf, from Song to Song,
He draws the tadpole Form along,
He mounts the gilded Edge before,
He's up, he scuds the Cover o'er,
He turns, he doubles, there he past,
And here we have him, caught at last.
Insatiate
Brute,
whose Teeth abuse
The sweetest Servants of the
Muse.
(Nay never offer to deny,
I took thee in the Fact to fly.)
His
Roses
nipt in ev'ry Page,
My poor
Anacreon
mourns thy Rage.
By thee my
Ovid
wounded lies;
By thee my
Lesbia
's
Sparrow
dies:
Thy rabid Teeth have half destroy'd
The Work of Love in
Biddy Floyd,
They rent
Belinda
's Locks away,
And spoil'd the
Blouzelind
of
Gay.
For all, for ev'ry single Deed,
Relentless
Justice
bids thee bleed.
Then fall a
Victim
to the
Nine,
My self the
Priest,
my Desk the
Shrine.
Bring
Homer, Virgil, Tasso
near,
To pile a sacred Altar here;
Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,
You reach'd the Plays that
D—s
writ;
You reach'd me
Ph—s
rustick Strain;
Pray take your mortal Bards again.
Come bind the Victim,—there he lies,
And here between his num'rous Eyes
This venerable Dust I lay,
From
Manuscripts
just swept away.
The Goblet in my Hand I take,
(For the Libation's yet to make)
A Health to Poets! all their Days
May they have Bread, as well as Praise;
Sense may they seek, and less engage
In Papers fill'd with Party-Rage.
But if their Riches spoil their Vein
Ye
Muses,
make them poor again.
Now bring the Weapon, yonder Blade,
With which my tuneful Pens are made.
I strike the Scales that arm thee round,
And twice and thrice I print the Wound;
The sacred Altar floats with red,
And now he dies, and now he's dead.
How like the Son of
Jove
I stand,
This
Hydra
stretch'd beneath my Hand!
Lay bare the Monster's Entrails here,
To see what Dangers threat the Year:
Ye Gods! what Sonnets on a Wench?
What lean Translations out of
French?
Tis plain, this Lobe is so unsound,
S
—prints, before the Months go round.
But hold, before I close the Scene,
The sacred Altar shou'd be clean.
Oh had I
Sh—ll
's Second Bays,
Or
T
—! thy pert and humble Lays!
(Ye Pair, forgive me, when I vow
I never miss'd your Works till now)
I'd tear the Leaves to wipe the Shrine,
(That only way you please the
Nine
)
But since I chance to want these two,
I'll make the Songs of
D—y
do.
Rent from the Corps, on yonder Pin,
I hang the Scales that brac't it in;
I hang my studious Morning Gown,
And write my own
Inscription
down.
'This
Trophy
from the
Python
won,
'This
Robe,
in which the Deed was done,
'These,
Parnell
glorying in the Feat,
'Hung on these Shelves, the
Muses
Seat.
'Here
Ignorance
and
Hunger
found
'Large Realms of Wit to ravage round;
'Here
Ignorance
and
Hunger
fell;
'Two Foes in one I sent to Hell.
'Ye
Poets,
who my Labours see,
'Come share the Triumph all with me!
'Ye
Criticks!
born to vex the
Muse,
'Go mourn the
grand Ally
you lose.
An
ALLEGORY
on
MAN.
A Thoughtful Being, long and spare,
Our Race of Mortals call him
Care:
(Were
Homer
living, well he knew
What Name the Gods have call'd him too)
With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,
And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.
This Being, by a Model bred
In
Jove's
eternal sable Head,
Contriv'd a Shape impow'rd to breathe,
And be the
Worldling
here beneath.
The
Man
rose staring, like a Stake;
Wond'ring to see himself awake!
Then look'd so wise, before he knew
The Bus'ness he was made to do;
That pleas'd to see with what a Grace
He gravely shew'd his forward Face,
Jove
talk'd of breeding him on high,
An
Under-something
of the Sky.
But e'er he gave the mighty
Nod,
Which ever binds a
Poet
's
God:
(For which his Curls Ambrosial shake,
And Mother
Earth
's oblig'd to quake:)
He saw old Mother
Earth
arise,
She stood confess'd before his Eyes;
But not with what we read she wore,
A Castle for a Crown before,
Nor with long Streets and longer Roads
Dangling behind her, like Commodes:
As yet with Wreaths alone she drest,
And trail'd a Landskip-painted Vest.
Then thrice she rais'd, (as
Ovid
said)
And thrice she bow'd, her weighty Head.
Her Honours made, Great
Jove,
she cry'd,
This
Thing
was fashion'd from my Side;
His Hands, his Heart, his Head are mine;
Then what hast thou to call him thine?
Nay rather ask, the
Monarch
said,
What boots his Hand, his Heart, his Head,
Were what I gave remov'd away?
Thy Part's an idle Shape of Clay.
Halves, more than Halves! cry'd honest
Care,
Your Pleas wou'd make your Titles fair,
You claim the Body, you the Soul,
But I who join'd them, claim the whole.
Thus with the Gods Debate began,
On such a trivial Cause, as
Man.
And can Celestial Tempers rage?
(Quoth
Virgil
in a later Age.)
As thus they wrangled,
Time
came by;
(There's none that paint him such as I,
For what the Fabling
Antients
sung
Makes
Saturn
old, when
Time
was young.)
As yet his Winters had not shed
Their silver Honours on his Head;
He just had got his Pinions free
From his old Sire
Eternity.
A Serpent girdled round he wore,
The Tail within the Mouth before;
By which our
Almanacks
are clear
That learned
Aegypt
meant the Year.
A Staff he carry'd, where on high
A Glass was fix'd to measure by,
As Amber Boxes made a Show
For Heads of Canes an Age ago.
His Vest, for Day, and Night, was py'd;
A bending Sickle arm'd his Side;
And Spring's new Months his Train adorn;
The other Seasons were unborn.
Known by the Gods, as near he draws,
They make him
Umpire
of the Cause.
O'er a low Trunk his Arm he laid,
(Where since his
Hours
a
Dial
made;)
Then leaning heard the nice Debate,
And thus pronounc'd the Words of
Fate.
Since
Body
from the Parent
Earth,
And
Soul
from
Jove
receiv'd a Birth,
Return they where they first began;
But since their
Union
makes the
Man,
'Till
Jove
and
Earth
shall part these two,
To
Care
who join'd them,
Man
is due.
He said, and sprung with swift Career
To trace a Circle for the Year;
Where ever since the
Seasons
wheel,
And tread on one another's Heel.
'Tis well, said
Jove,
and for consent,
Thund'ring he shook the Firmament.
Our Umpire
Time
shall have his Way,
With
Care
I let the Creature stay:
Let Bus'ness vex him, Av'rice blind,
Let Doubt and knowledge rack his Mind,
Let Error act, Opinion speak,
And Want afflict, and Sickness break,
And Anger burn, Dejection chill,
And Joy distract, and Sorrow kill.
'Till arm'd by
Care
and taught to Mow,
Time
draws the long destructive Blow;
And wasted
Man,
whose quick decay
Comes hurrying on before his Day,
Shall only find, by this Decree,
The
Soul
flies sooner back to
Me.
An Imitation of some
FRENCH
Verses.
RElentless
Time!
destroying Pow'r
Whom Stone and Brass obey,
Who giv'st to ev'ry flying Hour
To work some new Decay;
Unheard, unheeded, and unseen,
Thy secret Saps prevail,
And ruin Man, a nice Machine
By Nature form'd to fail.
My Change arrives; the Change I meet,
Before I thought it nigh.
My
Spring,
my Years of Pleasure fleet,
And all their Beauties dye.
In
Age
I search, and only find
A poor unfruitful Gain,
Grave
Wisdom
stalking slow behind,
Oppress'd with loads of Pain.
My Ignorance cou'd once beguile,
And fancy'd Joys inspire;
My Errors cherish'd
Hope
to smile
On newly-born
Desire.
But now Experience shews, the Bliss
For which I fondly sought,
Not worth the long impatient Wish,
And Ardour of the Thought.
My Youth met
Fortune
fair array'd,
(In all her Pomp she shone)
And might, perhaps, have well essay'd
To make her Gifts my own:
But when I saw the Blessings show'r
On some unworthy Mind,
I left the Chace, and own'd he
Pow'r
Was justly painted blind.
I pass'd the Glories which adorn
The splendid Courts of Kings,
And while the Persons mov'd my Scorn,
I rose to scorn the Things.
My Manhood felt a vig'rous Fire
By Love encreas'd the more;
But Years with coming Years conspire
To break the Chains I wore.
In Weakness safe, the
Sex
I see
With idle Lustre shine;
For what are all their Joys to me,
Which cannot now be mine?
But hold— I feel my
Gout
decrease,
My Troubles laid to rest,
And Truths which wou'd disturb my Peace
Are painful Truths at best.
Vainly the Time I have to roll
In sad Reflection flies;
Ye fondling Passions of my Soul!
Ye sweet Deceits! arise.
I wisely change the Scene within;
To Things that us'd to please;
In
Pain, Philosophy
is
Spleen,
In
Health,
'tis only
Ease.
A
NIGHT-PIECE
on
DEATH.
BY the blue Tapers trembling Light,
No more I waste the wakeful Night,
Intent with endless view to pore
The Schoolmen and the Sages o'er:
Their Books from Wisdom widely stray,
Or point at best the longest Way.
I'll seek a readier Path, and go
Where Wisdom's surely taught
below.
How deep yon Azure dies the Sky!
Where Orbs of Gold unnumber'd lye,
While thro' their Ranks in silver pride
The nether Crescent seems to glide.
The slumb'ring Breeze forgets to breathe,
The Lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled Show
Descends to meet our Eyes below.
The Grounds which on the right aspire,
In dimness from the View retire:
The Left presents a Place of Graves,
Whose Wall the silent Water laves.
That Steeple guides thy doubtful sight
Among the livid gleams of Night.
There pass with melancholy State,
By all the solemn Heaps of Fate,
And think, as softly-sad you tread
Above the venerable Dead,
Time was, like thee they Life possest,
And Time shall be, that thou shalt Rest.
Those Graves, with bending Osier bound,
That nameless heave the crumbled Ground,
Quick to the glancing Thought disclose
Where
Toil
and
Poverty
repose.
The flat smooth Stones that bear a Name,
The Chissels slender help to Fame,
(Which e'er our Sett of Friends decay
Their frequent Steps may wear away.)
A
middle Race
of Mortals own,
Men, half ambitious, all unknown.
The Marble Tombs that rise on high,
Whose Dead in vaulted Arches lye,
Whose Pillars swell with sculptur'd Stones,
Arms, Angels, Epitaphs and Bones,
These (all the poor Remains of State)
Adorn the
Rich,
or praise the
Great;
Who while on Earth in Fame they live,
Are sensless of the Fame they give.
Ha! while I gaze, pale
Cynthia
fades,
The bursting Earth unveils the Shades!
All slow, and wan, and wrap'd with Shrouds,
They rise in visionary Crouds,
And all with sober Accent cry,
Think, Mortal, what it is to dye,
Now from yon black and fun'ral Yew,
That bathes the Charnel House with Dew,
Methinks I hear a
Voice
begin;
(Ye Ravens, cease your croaking Din,
Ye tolling Clocks, no Time resound
O'er the long Lake and midnight Ground)
It sends a Peal of hollow Groans,
Thus speaking from among the Bones.
When Men my Scythe and Darts supply,
How great a
King
of
Fears
am I!
They view me like the last of Things:
They make, and then they dread, my Stings.
Fools! if you less provok'd your Fears,
No more my Spectre-Form appears.
Death's but a Path that must be trod,
If Man wou'd ever pass to God:
A Port of Calms, a State of Ease
From the rough Rage of swelling Seas.
Why then thy flowing sable Stoles,
Deep pendent Cypress, mourning Poles,
Loose Scarfs to fall athwart thy Weeds,
Long Palls, drawn Herses, cover'd Steeds,
And Plumes of black, that as they tread,
Nod o'er the 'Scutcheons of the Dead?
Nor can the parted Body know,
Nor wants the Soul, these Forms of Woe:
As Men who long in Prison dwell,
With Lamps that glimmer round the Cell,
When c'er their suffering Years are run,
Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring Sun:
Such Joy, tho' far transcending Sense,
Have pious Souls at parting hence.
On Earth, and in the Body plac't,
A few, and evil Years, they wast:
But when their Chains are cast aside,
See the glad Scene unfolding wide,
Clap the glad Wing and tow'r away,
And mingle with the Blaze of Day.
A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.
LOvely, lasting Peace of Mind!
Sweet Delight of human kind!
Heavenly born, and bred on high,
To crown the Fav'rites of the Sky
With more of Happiness below,
Than Victors in a Triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented Head?
What happy Region dost thou please
To make the Seat of Calms and Ease?
Ambition searches all its Sphere
Of Pomp and State, to meet thee there.
Encreasing Avarice would find
Thy Presence in its Gold enshrin'd.
The bold Advent'rer ploughs his way,
Thro' Rocks amidst the foaming Sea,
To gain thy Love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the Rocks and Waves.
The silent Heart which Grief assails,
Treads soft and lonesome o'er the Vales,
Sees Daisies open, Rivers run,
And seeks (as I have vainly done)
Amusing Thought; but learns to know
That Solitude's the Nurse of Woe.
No real Happiness is found
In trailing Purple o'er the Ground:
Or in a Soul exalted high,
To range the Circuit of the Sky,
Converse with Stars above, and know
All Nature in its Forms below;
The Rest it seeks, in seeking dies,
And Doubts at last for Knowledge rise.
Lovely, lasting Peace appear!
This World it self, if thou art here,
Is once again with
Eden
bless'd,
And Man contains it in his Breast.
'Twas thus, as under Shade I stood,
I sung my Wishes to the Wood,
And lost in Thought, no more perceiv'd
The Branches whisper as they wav'd:
It seem'd, as all the quiet Place
Confess'd the Presence of the Grace.
When thus she spoke— Go rule thy Will,
Bid thy wild Passions all be still,
Know God—and bring thy Heart to know,
The Joys which from Religion flow:
Then ev'ry Grace shall prove its Guest,
And I'll be there to crown the rest.
Oh! by yonder Mossy Seat,
In my Hours of sweet Retreat;
Might I thus my Soul employ,
With sense of Gratitude and Joy:
Rais'd as antient Prophets were,
In heavenly Vision, Praise, and Pray'r;
Pleasing all Men, hurting none,
Pleas'd and bless'd with God alone:
Then while the Gardens take my Sight,
With all the Colours of Delight;
While silver Waters glide along,
To please my Ear, and court my Song:
I'll lift my Voice, and tune my String,
And thee, great
Source
of
Nature,
sing.
The Sun that walks his airy Way,
To light the World, and give the Day;
The Moon that shines with borrow'd Light;
The Stars that gild the gloomy Night;
The Seas that roll unnumber'd Waves;
The Wood that spreads its shady Leaves;
The Field whose Ears conceal the Grain,
The yellow Treasure of the Plain;
All of these, and all I see,
Shou'd be sung, and sung by me:
They speak their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the Tongue of Man.
Go search among your idle Dreams,
Your
busy,
or your
vain
Extreams;
And find a Life of equal Bliss,
Or own the
next
begun in
This.
The
HERMIT.
FAR in a Wild, unknown to publick View,
From Youth to Age a rev'rend
Hermit
grew;
The Moss his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell,
His Food the Fruits, his Drink the chrystal Well:
Remote from Man, with God he pass'd the Days,
Pray'r all his Bus'ness, all his Pleasure Praise.
A Life so sacred, such serene Repose,
Seem'd Heav'n it self, 'till one Suggestion rose;
That Vice shou'd triumph, Virtue Vice obey,
This sprung some Doubt of Providence's Sway:
His Hopes no more a certain Prospect boast,
And all the Tenour of his Soul is lost:
So when a smooth Expanse receives imprest
Calm Nature's Image on its wat'ry Breast,
Down bend the Banks, the Trees depending grow,
And Skies beneath with answ'ring Colours glow:
But if a Stone the gentle Scene divide,
Swift ruffling Circles curl on ev'ry side,
And glimmering Fragments of a broken Sun,
Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Disorder run.
To clear this Doubt, to know the World by Sight,
To find if Books, or Swains, report it right;
(For yet by Swains alone the World he knew,
Whose Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew)
He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-Staff he bore,
And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before;
Then with the Sun a rising Journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each Event.
The Morn was wasted in the pathless Grass,
And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass;
But when the
Southern
Sun had warm'd the Day,
A Youth came posting o'er a crossing Way;
His Rayment decent, his Complexion fair,
And soft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair.
Then near approaching, Father Hail! he cry'd,
And Hail, my Son, the rev'rend Sire reply'd;
Words followed Words, from Question Answer flow'd
And Talk of various kind deceiv'd the Road;
'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their Age they differ; joyn in Heart:
Thus stands an aged Elm in Ivy bound,
Thus youthful Ivy clasps an Elm around.
Now sunk the Sun; the closing Hour of Day
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray;
Nature in silence bid the World repose:
When near the Road a stately Palace rose:
There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pass,
Whose Verdure crown'd their sloping sides of Grass.
It chanc't the noble Master of the Dome,
Still made his House the wand'ring Stranger's home:
Yet still the Kindness, from a Thirst of Praise,
Prov'd the vain Flourish of expensive Ease.
The Pair arrive: the Liv'ry'd Servants wait;
Their Lord receives them at the pompous Gate.
The Table groans with costly Piles of Food,
And all is more than Hospitably good.
Then led to rest, the Day's long Toil they drown,
Deep sunk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of Down.
At length 'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day,
Along the wide Canals the
Zephyrs
play;
Fresh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep,
And shake the neighb'ring Wood to banish Sleep.
Up rise the Guests, obedient to the Call,
'An early Banquet deck'd the splendid Hall;
Rich luscious Wine a golden Goblet grac't,
Which the kind Master forc'd the Guests to taste.
Then pleas'd and thankful, from the Porch they go,
And, but the Landlord, none had cause of Woe;
His
Cup
was vanish'd; for in secret Guise
The younger Guest purloin'd the glittering Prize.
As one who 'spys a Serpent in his Way,
Glistning and basking in the Summer Ray,
Disorder'd stops to shun the Danger near,
Then walks with Faintness on, and looks with Fear:
So seem'd the Sire; when far upon the Road,
The shining Spoil his wiley Partner show'd.
He stopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling Heart,
And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part:
Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard,
That generous Actions meet a base Reward.
While thus they pass, the Sun his Glory shrouds,
The changing Skies hang out their sable Clouds;
A Sound in Air presag'd approaching Rain,
And Beasts to covert scud a cross the Plain.
Warn'd by the Signs, the wand'ring Pair retreat,
To seek for Shelter at a neighb'ring Seat.
'Twas built with Turrets, on a rising Ground,
And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around;
Its Owner's Temper, tim'rous and severe,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a Desert there.
As near the
Miser
's heavy Doors they drew,
Fierce rising Gusts with sudden Fury blew;
The nimble Light'ning mix'd with Show'rs began,
And o'er their Heads loud-rolling Thunder ran.
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain,
Driv'n by the Wind, and battered by the Rain.
At length some Pity warm'd the Master's Breast,
('Twas then, his Threshold first receiv'd a Guest)
Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care,
And half he welcomes in the shivering Pair;
One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls,
And Nature's Fervor thro' their Limbs recals:
Bread of the coursest sort, with eager Wine,
(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine;
And when the Tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready Warning bid them part in Peace.
With still Remark the pond'ring
Hermit
view'd
In one so rich, a Life so poor and rude;
And why shou'd such, (within himself he cry'd,)
Lock the lost Wealth a thousand want beside?
But what new Marks of Wonder soon took place,
In ev'ry settling Feature of his Face!
When from his Vest the young Companion bore
That
Cup,
the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,
And paid profusely with the precious Bowl
The stinted Kindness of this churlish Soul.
But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly,
The Sun emerging opes an azure Sky;
A fresher green the smelling Leaves display,
And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the Day:
The Weather courts them from the poor Retreat,
And the glad Master bolts the wary Gate.
While hence they walk, the
Pilgrim
's Bosom wrought,
With all the Travel of uncertain Thought;
His Partner's Acts without their Cause appear,
'Twas there a Vice, and seem'd a Madness here:
Detesting that, and pitying this he goes,
Lost and confounded with the various Shows.
Now Night's dim Shades again involve the Sky;
Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye,
Again they search, and find a Lodging nigh.
The Soil improv'd around, the Mansion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:
It seem'd to speak its Master's turn of Mind,
Content, and not for Praise, but Virtue kind.
Hither the Walkers turn with weary Feet
Then bless the Mansion, and the Master greet:
Their greeting fair bestow'd, with modest Guise,
The courteous Master hears, and thus replies:
Without a vain, without a grudging Heart,
To Him who gives us all, I yield a part;
From Him you come, for Him accept it here,
A frank and sober, more than costly Cheer.
He spoke, and bid the welcome Table spread,
Then talk'd of Virtue till the time of Bed,
When the grave Houshold round his Hall repair,
Warn'd by a Bell, and close the Hours with Pray'r.
At length the World renew'd by calm Repose
Was strong for Toil, the dappled Morn arose;
Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept,
Near the clos'd Cradle where an Infant slept,
And writh'd his Neck: the Landlord's little Pride,
Ostrange Return! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy'd.
Horrour of Horrours! what! his only Son!
How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done?
Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue Fire, cou'd more assault his Heart.
Confus'd, and struck with Silence at the Deed,
He flies, but trembling fails to fly with Speed.
His Steps the Youth pursues; the Country lay
Perplex'd with Roads, a Servant show'd the Way:
A River cross'd the Path; the Passage o'er
Was nice to find; the Servant trod before;
Long arms of Oaks an open Bridge supply'd,
And deep the Waves beneath the bending glide.
The Youth, who seem'd to watch a Time to sin,
Approach'd the careless Guide, and thrust him in;
Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his Head,
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the Dead.
Wild, sparkling Rage inflames the Father's Eyes,
He bursts the Bands of Fear, and madly cries,
Detested Wretch— But scarce his Speech began,
When the strange Partner seem'd no longer Man:
His youthful Face grew more serenely sweet;
His Robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his Feet;
Fair rounds of radiant Points invest his Hair;
Celestial Odours breathe thro' purpled Air;
And Wings, whose Colours glitter'd on the Day,
Wide at his Back their gradual Plumes display.
The Form Etherial bursts upon his Sight,
And moves in all the Majesty of Light.
Tho' loud at first the Pilgrim's Passion grew,
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do;
Surprize in secret Chains his words suspends,
And in a Calm his settling Temper ends.
But Silence here the beauteous Angel broke,
(The Voice of Musick ravish'd as he spoke)
Thy Pray'r, thy Praise, thy Life to Vice unknown,
In sweet Memorial rise before the Throne:
These Charms, Success in our bright Region find,
And force an Angel down, to calm thy Mind;
For this commission'd, I forsook the Sky,
Nay, cease to kneel— Thy fellow Servant I.
Then know the Truth of Government Divine,
And let these Scruples be no longer thine.
The Maker justly claims that World he made,
In this the Right of Providence is laid;
Its sacred Majesty thro' all depends
On using second Means to work his Ends:
'Tis thus, withdrawn in State from human Eye,
The Pow'r exerts his Attributes on high,
Your Actions uses, not controuls your Will,
And bids the doubting Sons of Men be still.
What strange Events can strike with more Surprize,
Than those which latelystrook thy wond'ring Eyes?
Yet taught by these, confess th' Almighty Just,
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
The
Great, Vain Man,
who far'd on costly Food,
Whose Life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his Iv'ry Stands with Goblets shine,
And forc'd his Guests to morning Draughts of Wine,
Has, with the
Cup,
the graceless Custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of Cost.
The mean, suspicious
Wretch,
whose bolted Door,
Ne'er mov'd in Duty to the wand'ring Poor;
With him I left the Cup, to teach his Mind
That Heav'n can bless, if Mortals will be kind.
Conscious of wanting Worth, he views the Bowl,
And feels Compassion touch his grateful Soul.
Thus Artists melt the sullen Oar of Lead,
With heaping Coals of Fire upon its Head;
In the kind Warmth the Metal learns to glow,
And loose from Dross, the Silver runs below.
Long had our
pious Friend
in Virtue trod,
But now the Child half-wean'd his Heart from God;
(Child of his Age) for him he liv'd in Pain,
And measur'd back his Steps to Earth again.
To what Excesses had his Dotage run?
But God, to save the Father, took the Son.
To all but thee, in Fits he seem'd to go,
(And 'twas my Ministry to deal the Blow)
The poor fond Parent humbled in the Dust,
Now owns in Tears the Punishment was just.
But how had all his Fortune felt a Wrack,
Had that false
Servant
sped in Safety back?
This Night his treasur'd Heaps he meant to steal,
And what a Fund of Charity wou'd fail!
Thus Heav'n instructs thy Mind: This Tryal o'er,
Depart in Peace, resign, and sin no more.
On sounding Pinnions here the Youth withdrew,
The Sage stood wond'ring as the
Seraph
flew.
Thus look'd
Elisha,
when to mount on high,
His Master took the Chariot of the Sky;
The fiery Pomp ascending left the View;
The Prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too.
The bending Hermit here a Pray'r begun,
Lord! as in Heaven, on Earth thy Will be done.
Then gladly turning, sought his antient place,
And pass'd a Life of Piety and Peace.
FINIS.
VISIONS, Publish'd in the
SPECTATORS,
&c.
By the same Hand.
VISION I.
SPECTATOR. No . 460.
Decipimur Specie Recti—
Hor.
OUR Defects and Follies are too often unknown to us; nay, they are so far from being known to us, that they pass for Demonstrations of our Worth. This makes us easie in the midst of them, fond to shew them, fond to improve in them, and to be esteemed for them. Then it is that a thousand unaccountable Conceits, gay Inventions, and extravagant Actions must afford us Pleasures, and display us to others in the Colours which we our selves take a Fancy to glory in: And indeed there is something so amusing for the Time in this State of Vanity and ill-grounded Satisfaction, that even the wiser World has chosen an exalted Word to describe its Enchantments, and called it
the Paradise of Fools.
Perhaps the latter Part of this Reflection may seem a false Thought to some, and bear another Turn than what I have given; but it is at present none of my Business to look after it, who am going to confess that I have been lately amongst them in a Vision.
Methought I was transported to a Hill, green, flowery, and of an easy Ascent. Upon the broad Top of it resided squint-eyed
Errour,
and popular
Opinion
with many Heads; two that dealt in Sorcery, and were famous for bewitching People with the Love of themselves. To these repaired a Multitude from every Side, by two different Paths which lead towards each of them. Some who had the most assuming Air went directly of themselves to
Errour,
without expecting a Conductor; others of a softer Nature went first to popular
Opinion,
from whence as she influenced and engaged them with their own Praises, she delivered them over to his Government.
When we had ascended to an open Part of the Summit where
Opinion
abode, we found her entertaining several who had arrived before us. Her Voice was pleasing; she breathed Odours as she spoke: She seemed to have a Tongue for every one; every one thought he heard of something that was valuable in himself, and expected a Paradise which she promised as the Reward of his Merit. Thus were we drawn to follow her, till she should bring us where it was to be bestowed: And it was observable, that all the Way we went, the Company was either praising themselves in their Qualifications, or one another for those Qualifications which they took to be conspicuous in their own Characters, or dispraising others for wanting theirs, or vying in the Degrees of them.
At last we approached a Bower, at the Entrance of which
Errour
was seated. The Trees were thick-woven, and the Place where he sat artfully contrived to darken him a little. He was disguised in a whitish Robe, which he had put on, that he might appear to us with a nearer Resemblance to
Truth:
And as she has a Light whereby she manifests the Beauties of Nature to the Eyes of her Adorers, so he had provided himself with a magical Wand, that he might do something in Imitation of it, and please with Delusions. This he lifted solemnly, and muttering to himself, bid the Glories which he kept under Enchantment to appear before us. Immediately we cast our Eyes on that part of the Sky to which he pointed, and observed a thin blue Prospect, which cleared as Mountains in a Summer Morning when the Mists go off, and the Palace of
Vanity
appeared to Sight.
The Foundation hardly seemed a Foundation, but a Set of curling Clouds, which it stood upon by magical Contrivance. The Way by which we ascended was painted like a Rainbow; and as we went the Breeze that played about us bewitched the Senses. The Walls were gilded all for Show; the lowest Set of Pillars were of the slight Fine
Corinthian
Order, and the Top of the Building being rounded, bore so far the Resemblance of a Bubble.
At the Gate the Travellers neither met with a Porter, nor waited till one should appear; every one thought his Merits a sufficient Passport, and pressed forward. In the Hall we met with several Phantoms, that rov'd amongst us, and rang'd the Company according to their Sentiments. There was decreasing
Honour,
that had nothing to shew in but an old Coat of his Ancestors Atchievements: There was
Ostentation,
that made himself his own constant Subject, and
Gallantry
strutting upon his Tip-toes. At the upper end of the Hall stood a Throne, whose Canopy glitter'd with all the Riches that Gayety could contrive to lavish on it; and between the gilded Arms sat
Vanity
deck'd in the Peacock's Feathers, and acknowledged for another
Venus
by her Votaries. The Boy who stood beside her for a
Cupid,
and who made the World to bow before her, was called
Self-Conceit.
His Eyes had every now and then a Cast in wards, to the Neglect of all Objects about him; and the Arms which he made use of for Conquest, were borrowed from those against whom he had a Design. The Arrow which he shot at the Soldier, was fledg'd from his own Plume of Feathers; the Dart he directed against the Man of Wit, was winged from the Quills he writ with; and that which he sent against those who presumed upon their Riches, was headed with Gold out of their Treasuries: He made Nets for Statesmen from their own Contrivances; he took Fire from the Eyes of Ladies, with which he melted their Hearts; and Lightning from the Tongues of the Eloquent, to enflame them with their own Glories. At the Foot of the Throne sat three false Graces.
Flattery
with a Shell of Paint,
Affectation
with a Mirrour to practise at, and
Fashion
ever changing the Posture of her Cloaths. These applied themselves to secure the Conquests which
Self-Conceit
had gotten, and had each of them their particular Polities.
Flattery
gave new Colours and Complexions to all Things,
Affectation
new Airs and Appearances, which, as she said, were not vulgar, and
Fashion
both concealed some home Defects, and added some foreign external Beauties.
As I was reflecting upon what I saw, I heard a Voice in the Crowd, bemoaning the Condition of Mankind, which is thus managed by the Breath of
Opinion,
deluded by
Errour,
fir'd by
Self-Conceit,
and given up to be trained in all the Courses of
Vanity,
till
Scorn
or
Poverty
come upon us. These Expressions were no sooner handed about, but I immediately saw a general Disorder, till at last there was a Parting in one Place, and a grave old Man decent and resolute, was led forward to be punished for the Words he had uttered. He appeared inclined to have spoken in his own Defence, but I could not observe that any one was willing to hear him.
Vanity
cast a scornful Smile at him;
Self Conceit
was angry;
Flattery,
who knew him for
Plain-dealing,
put on a
Vizard,
and turned away;
Affectation
tossed her Fan, made Mouths, and called him
Envy
or
Slander;
and
Fashion
would have it, that at least he must be
Ill-Manners.
Thus slighted and despised by all, he was driven out for abusing People of Merit and Figure; and I heard it firmly resolved, that he should be used no better where-ever they met with him hereafter.
I had already seen the meaning of most part of that Warning which he had given, and was considering how the latter Words should be fulfilled, when a mighty Noise was heard without, and the Door was blackned by a numerous Train of Harpies crowding in upon us.
Folly
and
Broken Credit
were seen in the House before they entered.
Trouble, Shame, Infamy, Scorn
and
Poverty
brought up the Rear.
Vanity,
with her
Cupid
and
Graces,
disappeared; her Subjects ran into Holes and Corners; but many of them were found and carried off (as I was told by one who stood near me) either to Prisons or Cellars, Solitude, or little Company, the mean Arts or the viler Crafts, of Life. But these, added he with a disdainful Air, are such who would fondly live here, when their Merits neither matched the Lustre of the Place, nor their Riches its Expences. We have seen such Scenes as these before now; the Glory you saw will all return when the Hurry is over. I thank'd him for his Information, and believing him so incorrigible as that he would stay till it was his Turn to be taken, I made off to the Door, and overtook some few, who, though they would not hearken to
Plain-dealing,
were now terrified to good purpose by the Example of others: But when they had touched the Threshold, it was a strange shock to them to find that the Delusion of
Errour
was gone, and they plainly discerned the Building to hang a little up in the Air without any real Foundation. At first we saw nothing but a desperate Leap remained for us, and I a thousand times blamed my unmeaning Curiosity that had brought me into so much Danger. But as they began to sink lower in their own Minds, methought the Palace sunk along with us, till they were arrived at the due Point of
Esteem
which they ought to have for themselves; then the Part of the Building in which they stood touched the Earth, and we departing out, it retired from our Eyes. Now, whether they who stayed in the Palace were sensible of this Descent, I cannot tell; it was then my Opinion that they were not. However it be, my Dream broke up at it, and has given me Occasion all my Life to reflect upon the fatal Consequences of following the Suggestions of
Vanity.
VISION II.
SPECTATOR. No . 501.
HOW are we tortured with the Absence of what we covet to possess, when it appears to be lost to us! What Excursions does the Soul make in Imagination after it! and how does it turn into it self again, more foolishly fond and dejected, at the Disappointment! Our Grief, instead of having Recourse to Reason, which might restrain it, searches to find a further Nourishment. It calls upon Memory to relate the several Passages and Circumstances of Satisfactions which we formerly enjoyed; the Pleasures we purchased by those Riches that are taken from us; or the Power and Splendour of our departed Honours; or the Voice, the Words, the Looks, the Temper, and Affections of our Friends that are deceased. It needs must happen from hence, that the Passion should often swell to such a Size as to burst the Heart which contains it, if Time did not make these Circumstances less strong and lively, so that Reason should become a more equal Match for the Passion, or if another Desire which becomes more present did not overpower them with a livelier Representation. These are Thoughts which I had, when I fell into a kind of Vision upon this Subject, and may therefore stand for a proper Introduction to a Relation of it.
I found my self upon a naked Shore, with Company whose afflicted Countenances witnessed their Conditions. Before us flowed a Water deep, silent, and called the River of
Tears,
which issuing from two Fountains on an upper Ground, encompassed an Island that lay before us. The Boat which plied in it was old and shattered, having been sometimes overset by the Impatience and Haste of single Passengers to arrive at the other side. This immediately was brought to us by
Misfortune
who steers it, and we were all preparing to take our Places, when there appeared a Woman of a mild and composed Behaviour, who began to deter us from it, by representing the Dangers which would attend our Voyage. Hereupon some who knew her for
Patience,
and some of those too who till then cry'd the loudest, were persuaded by her, and return'd back. The rest of us went in, and she (whose Good-nature would not suffer her to forsake Persons in Trouble) desired Leave to accompany us, that she might at least administer some small Comfort or Advice while we sailed. We were no sooner embarked but the Boat, was pushed off, the Sheet was spread; and being filled with
Sighs,
which are the Winds of that Country, we made a Passage to the farther Bank thro' several Difficulties of which the most of us seem'd utterly regardless.
When we landed, we perceived the Island to be strangely over-cast with Fogs, which no Brightness could pierce, so that a kind of gloomy Horror sat always brooding over it. This had something in it very shocking to easy Tempers, insomuch that some others, whom
Patience
had by this time gain'd over, left us here, and privily convey'd themselves round the Verge of the Island to find a Ford by which she told them they might escape.
For my part, I still went along with those who were for piercing into the Centre of the Place; and joining our selves to others whom we found upon the same Journey, we marched solemnly as at a Funeral, thro' bordering Hedges of Rosemary, and thro' a Grove of Yew-Trees, which love to over-shadow Tombs and flourish in Church-Yards. Here we heard on every side the Wailings and Complaints of several of the Inhabitants, who had cast themselves disconsolately at the Feet of Trees; and as we chanc'd to approach any of these, we might perceive them wringing their Hands, beating their Breasts, tearing their Hair, or after some other manner visibly agitated with Vexation. Our Sorrows were heightned by the Influence of what we heard and saw, and one of our Number was wrought up to such a Pitch of Wildness, as to talk of hanging himself upon a Bough which shot temptingly across the Path we travelled in; but he was restrain'd from it by the kind Endeavours of our abovementioned Companion.
We had now gotten into the most dusky silent Part of the Island, and by the redoubled Sounds of Sighs, which made a doleful whistling in the Branches, the Thickness of Air which occasioned faintish Respiration, and the violent Throbbings of Heart which more and more affected us, we found that we approach'd the
Grotto of Grief.
It was a wide, hollow, and melancholy Cave, sunk deep in a Dale, and watered by Rivulets that had a Colour between Red and Black. These crept slow, and half congealed amongst its Windings, and mixed their heavy Murmur with the Echo of Groans that rolled thro' all the Passages. In the most retired part of it sat the
doleful Being
her self; the Path to her was strewed with Goads, Stings, and Thorns; and the Throne on which she sat was broken into a Rock with ragged Pieces pointing upwards for her to lean upon. A heavy Mist hung above her, her Head oppressed with it reclined upon her Arm: Thus did she reign over her disconsolate Subjects, full of her self to Stupidity, in eternal Pensiveness, and the profoundest Silence. On one side of her stood
Dejection
just dropping into a Swoon, and
Paleness
wasting to a Skeleton; on the other side were
Care
inwardly tormented with Imaginations, and
Anguish
suffering outward
Troubles
to suck the Blood from her Heart in the Shape of
Vultures.
The whole Vault had a genuine Dismalness in it, which a few scattered Lamps, whose blueish Flames arose and sunk in their Urns, discovered to our Eyes with Encrease. Some of us fell down, overcome and spent with what they suffered in the way, and were given over to those Tormentors that stood on either Hand of the Presence; others, galled and mortified with Pain, recover'd the Entrance, where
Patience,
whom we had left behind, was still waiting to receive us.
With her (whose Company was now become more grateful to us by the want we had found of her) we winded round the Grotto, and ascended at the Back of it, out of the mournful Dale in whose Bottom it lay. On this Eminence we halted, by her Advice, to pant for Breath; and lifting our Eyes, which till then were fixed downwards, felt a sullen sort of Satisfaction, in observing thro' the Shades what Numbers had entred the Island. This Satisfaction, which appears to have Ill-nature in it, was excusable, because it happened at a time when we were too much taken up with our own Concern, to have Respect to that of others; and therefore we did not consider them as suffering, but our selves as not suffering in the most forlorn Estate. It had also the Groundwork of Humanity and Compassion in it, though the Mind was then too deeply engaged to perceive it; but as we proceeded onwards it began to discover it self, and from observing that others were unhappy, we came to question one another, when it was that we met, and what were the sad Occasions that brought us together. Then we heard our Stories, we compared them, we mutually gave and received Pity, and so by degrees became tolerable Company.
A considerable Part of the troublesome Road was thus deceived; at length the Openings among the Trees grew larger, the Air seemed thinner, it lay with less Oppression upon us, and we could now and then discern Tracts in it of a lighter Greyness, like the Breakings of Day, short in Duration, much enlivening, and called in that Country
Gleams of Amusement.
Within a short while these Gleams began to appear more frequent, and then brighter and of a longer Continuance; the
Sighs
that hitherto filled the Air with so much Dolefulness, altered to the Sound of common Breezes, and in general the Horrors of the Island were abated.
When we had arrived at last at the Ford by which we were to pass out, we met with those fashionable Mourners who had been ferried over along with us, and who being unwilling to go as far as we, had coasted by the Shore to find the Place, where they waited our coming; that by shewing themselves to the World only at that time when we did, they might seem also to have been among the troubles of the Grotto. Here the Waters, that rolled on the other side so deep and silent, were much dried up, and it was an easier Matter for us to wade over.
The River being crossed, we were received upon the further Bank by our Friends and Acquaintance, whom
Comfort
had brought out to congratulate our Appearance in the World again. Some of these blamed us for staying so long away from them, others advised us against all Temptations of going back again; every one was cautious not to renew our Trouble, by asking any Particulars of the Journey; and all concluded, that in a Case of so much Affliction, we could not have made choice of a fitter Companion than
Patience.
Here
Patience,
appearing serene at her Praises, delivered us over to
Comfort. Comfort
smiled at his receiving the Charge; immediately the Sky purpled on that side to which he turned, and double Day at once broke in upon me.
VISION III.
GUARDIAN. No . 56.
Quid mentem traxisse polo, quid profuit altum
Erexisse caput? pecudum simore pererrant.
Claud.
I Was considering last Night, when I could not sleep, how noble a Part of the Creation Man was design'd to be, and how distinguished in all his Actions above other Earthly Creatures. From whence I fell to take a view of the Change and Corruption which he has introduced into his own Condition, the groveling Appetites, the mean Characters of Sense, and wild Courses of Passions, that cast him from the Degree in which Providence had placed him, the debasing himself with Qualifications not his own, and his degenerating into a lower Sphere of Action. This inspired me with a mixture of Contempt and Anger; which however, was not so violent as to hinder the Return of Sleep, but grew confused as that came upon me, and made me end my Reflections with giving Mankind the opprobrious Names of Inconsiderate, Mad and Foolish.
Here methought, where my waking Reason left the Subject, my Fancy pursued it in a Dream; and I imagined my self in a loud Soliloquy of Passion, railing at my Species, and walking hard to get rid of the Company I despised; when two Men who had over-heard me made up on either hand. These I observed had many Features in common, which might occasion the Mistake of the one for the other in those to whom they appear single, but I, who saw them together, could easily perceive, that tho' there was an Air of Severity in each, it was tempered with a natural Sweetness in the one, and by turns constrained or ruffled by the Designs of Malice in the other.
I was at a loss to know the Reason of their joining me so briskly, when he whose Appearance displeased me most, thus addressed his Companion. Pray, Brother, let him alone, and we shall immediately see him transformed into a Tyger. This struck me with Horror, which the other perceived, and pitying my Disorder, bid me be of good Courage, for tho' I had been Savage in my Treatment of Mankind, (whom I should rather reform than rail against) he would, however, endeavour to rescue me from my Danger. At this I looked a little more chearful, and while I testified my Resignation to him, we saw the angry Brother fling away from us in a Passion for his Disappointment. Being now left to my Friend, I went back with him at his Desire, that I might know the Meaning of those Words which so affrighted me.
As we went along, To inform you, says he, with whom you have this Adventure, my Name is
Reproof
and his
Reproach,
both born of the same Mother, but of different Fathers.
Truth
is our common Parent.
Friendship,
who saw her, fell in Love with her, and she being pleased with him, he begat me upon her; but a while after
Enmity
lying in Ambush for her, became the Father of him whom you saw along with me. The Temper of our Mother enclines us to the same sort of Business, the informing Mankind of their Faults; but the differing Complexions of our Fathers make us differ in our Designs and Company. I have a natural Benevolence in my Mind which engages me with Friends, and he a natural Impetuosity in his, which casts him among Enemies.
As he thus discoursed we came to a Place where there were three Entrances into as many several Walks, which lay beside one another. We passed into the middlemost, a plain, strait, regular Walk, set with Trees, which added to the Beauty of the Place, but did not so close their Boughs over head as to exclude the Light from it. Here as we walked I was made to observe, how the Road on one hand was full of Rocks and Precipices, over which
Reproach
(who had already gotten thither) was furiously driving unhappy Wretches; the other side was all laid out in Gardens of gaudy Tulips, amongst whose Leaves the Serpents wreath'd, and at the end of every grassy Walk the Enchantress
Flattery
was weaving Bowers to lull Souls asleep in. We continued still walking on the middle way, 'till we arrived in a Building in which it terminated. This was formerly erected by
Truth
for a Watch Tower, from whence she took a View of the Earth, and, as she saw occasion, sent out
Reproof,
or even
Reproach,
for our Reformation. Over the Door I took notice that a Face was carved with a Heart upon the Lips of it, and presently call'd to Mind that this was the Antients Emblem of
Sincerity.
In the Entrance I met with
Freedom of Speech
and
Complaisance,
who had for a long time looked upon one another as Enemies; but
Reproof
has so happily brought them together, that they now act as Friends and Fellow-Agents in the same Family. Before I ascended up the Stairs, I had my Eyes purified by a Water which made me see extremely clear, and I think they said it sprung in a Pit, from whence (as
Democritus
had reported) they formerly brought up
Truth,
who had hid her self in it. I was then admitted to the upper Chamber of Prospect, which was called
the Knowledge of Mankind;
here the Window was no sooner opened but I perceived the Clouds to roll off and part before me, and a Scene of all the Variety of the World presented it self.
But how different was Mankind in this View, from what it used to appear! Methought the very Shape of most of them was lost; some had the Heads of Dogs, others of Apes or Parrots, and in short, where-ever any one took upon him the inferior and unworthy Qualities of other Creatures, the Change of his Soul became visible in his Countenance. The strutting Pride of him who is endued with Brutality instead of Courage, made his Face shoot out in the Form of a
Horse
's; his Eyes became prominent, his Nostrils widened, and his Wig untying flowed down on one side of his Neck in a waving Mane. The Talkativeness of those who love the ill Nature of Conversation made them turn into
Assemblies
of
Geese,
their Lips hardened into Bills by eternal using, they gabbled for Diversion, they hiss'd in Scandal, and their Ruffles falling back on their Arms, a Succession of little Feathers appeared, which formed Wings for them to flutter with from one Visit to another. The Envious and Malicious lay on the Ground with the Heads of different sorts of Serpents, and not endeavouring to erect themselves, but meditating Mischief to others, they suck'd the Poison of the Earth, sharpened their Tongues to Stings upon the Stones, and rolled their Trains unperceivably beneath their Habits. The Hypocritical Oppressors wore the Faces of Crocodiles, their Mouths were Instruments of Cruelty, their Eyes of Deceit; they committed Wickedness, and bemoaned that there should be so much of it in the World; they devoured the Unwary, and wept over the Remains of them. The Covetous had so hook'd and worn their Fingers by counting Interest upon Interest, that they converted to the Claws of Harpies, and these they still were stretching out for more, yet seem'd unsatisfied with their Acquisitions. The Sharpers had the Looks of Camelions; they every Minute changed their Appearance, and fed on Swarms of Flies which fell as so many Cullies amongst them. The Bully seem'd a Dunghil Cock, he crested well, and bore his Comb aloft; he was beaten by almost every one, yet still sung for Triumph; and only the mean Coward prick'd up the Ears of a Hare to fly before him. Criticks were turned into Cats, whose Pleasure and Grumbling go together. Fops were Apes in embroider'd Jackets. Flatterers were curl'd Spaniels, fawning and crouching. The Crafty had the Face of a Fox, the Slothful of an Ass, the Cruel of a Wolf, the Ill-bred of a Bear, the Leachers were Goats, and the Gluttons Swine. Drunkenness was the only Vice that did not change the Face of its Professors into that of another Creature; but this I took to be far from a Privilege, for these two Reasons; because it sufficiently deforms them of it self, and because none of the lower Ranks of Beings is guilty of so foolish an Intemperance.
As I was taking a View of these Representations of Things, without any more Order than is usual in a Dream, or in the Confusion of the World it self, I perceived a Concern within me for what I saw; my Eyes began to moisten, and as if the Virtue of that Water with which they were purified was lost for a time, by their being touched with that which arose from a Passion, the Clouds immediately began to gather again, and close from either hand upon the Prospect. I then turned towards my Guide, who addressed himself to me after this manner. You have seen the Condition of Mankind when it descends from its Dignity; now therefore guard your self from that Degeneracy by a modest Greatness of Spirit on one side, and a conscious Shame on the other. Endeavour also with a Generosity of Goodness to make your Friends aware of it; let them know what Defects you perceive are growing upon them; handle the Matter as you see Reason, either with the Airs of severe or humorous Affection; sometimes plainly describing the Degeneracy in its full proper Colours, or at other times letting them know that if they proceed as they have begun, you give them to such a Day or so many Months to turn Bears, Wolves, or Foxes,
&c.
Neither neglect your more remote Acquaintance, where you see any worthy and susceptible of Admonition; expose the Beasts whose Qualities you see them putting on, where you have no mind to engage with their Persons. The Possibility of their applying this is very obvious: The
Egyptians
saw it so clearly, that they made the Pictures of Animals explain their Minds to one another instead of Writing; and indeed it is hardly to be missed, since
Aesop
took them out of their Mute Condition, and taught them to speak for themselves with relation to the Actions of Mankind.
VISION IV.
GUARDIAN. No . 66.
THERE is a Sett of Mankind, who are wholly employed in the Ill-natured Office of gathering up a Collection of Stories that lessen the Reputation of others, and spreading them Abroad with a certain Air of Satisfaction. Perhaps, indeed, an innocent and unmeaning Curiosity, a Desire of being informed concerning those we live with, or a Willingness to profit by Reflection upon the Actions of others, may sometimes afford an Excuse, or sometimes a Defence, for Inquisitiveness; but certainly it is beyond all Excuse, a Transgression against Humanity, to carry the Matter further, to tear off the Dressings, as I may say, from the Wounds of a Friend, and expose them to the Air in cruel Fits of Diversion; and yet we have something more to bemoan, an Outrage of an higher Nature, which mankind is guilty of when they are not content to spread the Stories of Folly, Frailty and Vice, but even enlarge them, or invent new ones, and blacken Characters that we may appear ridiculous or hateful to one another. From such Practices as these it happens, that some feel a Sorrow, and others are agitated with a Spirit of Revenge; that Scandals or Lies are told, because another has told such before; that Resentments and Quarrels arise, and Injuries are given, received, and multiplied, in a Scene of Vengeance.
All this I have often observed with abundance of Concern; and having a perfect Desire to further the Happiness of Mankind; I lately set my self to consider the Causes from whence such Evils arise, and the Remedies which may be applied. Whereupon I shut my Eyes to prevent Distraction from outward Objects, and a while after shot away, upon an Impulse of Thought, into the
World of Ideas,
where abstracted Qualities became visible in such Appearances as were agreeable to each of their Natures.
That part of the Country, where I happened to light, was the most noisy that I had ever known. The Winds whistled, the Leaves rustled, the Brooks rumbled, the Birds chatter'd, the Tongues of Men were heard, and the Echo mingled something of every Sound in its Repetition, so that there was a strange Confusion and Uproar of Sounds about me. At length, as the Noise still encreased, I could discern a Man habited like a Herald (and as I afterwards understood) called
Novelty,
that came forward proclaiming a Solemn Day to be kept at the House of
Common Fame.
Immediately behind him advanced three Nymphs, who had monstrous Appearances. The first of these was
Curiosity,
habited like a Virgin, and having an hundred Ears upon her Head to serve in her Enquiries. The Second of these was
Talkativeness,
a little better grown, she seemed to be like a young Wife, and had an hundred Tongues to spread her Stories. The Third was
Censoriousness,
habited like a Widow, and surrounded with an hundred Squinting Eyes of a malignant Influence, which so obliquely darted on all around, that it was impossible to say which of them had brought in the Informations she boasted of. These, as I was informed, had been very instrumental in preserving and rearing
Common Fame,
when upon her Birth-day she was shuffled into a Crowd, to escape the search which
Truth
might have made after her and her Parents.
Curiosity
found her there,
Talkativeness
convey'd her away, and
Censoriousness
so nursed her up, that in a short time she grew to a prodigious Size, and obtained an Empire over the Universe; wherefore the
Power,
in Gratitude for these Services, has since advanced them to her highest Employments. The next who came forward in this Procession was a light Damsel, called
Credulity,
who carried behind them the Lamp, the Silver Vessel with a Spout, and other Instruments proper for this Solemn Occasion. She had formerly seen these three together, and conjecturing from the number of their Ears, Tongues and Eyes, that they might be the proper
Genii
of
Attention, Familiar Converse,
and
Ocular Demonstration,
she from that time gave her self up to attend them. The last who followed were some who had closely muffled themselves in upper Garments, so that I could not discern who they were; but just as the foremost of them was come up, I am glad, says she, calling me by my Name, to meet you at this time, stay close by me, and take a strict Observation of all that passes. Her Voice was sweet and commanding, I thought I had somewhere heard it; and from her, as I went along, I learned the Meaning of every thing which offered.
We now marched forward thro' the
Rookery
of
Rumours,
which flew thick and with a terrible din all around us. At length we arrived at the House of
Common Fame,
where a Hecatomb of
Reputations
was that Day to fall for her Pleasure. The House stood upon an Eminence, having a thousand Passages to it, and a thousand whispering Holes for the Conveyance of Sound. The Hall we entered was formed with the Art of a Musick-Chamber for the Improvement of Noises.
Rest
and
Silence
are banished the Place.
Stories
of different Natures wander in light Flocks all about, sometimes Truths and Lies, or sometimes Lies themselves clashing against one another. In the middle stood a Table painted after the manner of the remotest
Asiatick
Countries, upon which the Lamp, the Silver Vessel, and Cups of a white Earth, were planted in order. Then dried Herbs were brought, collected for the Solemnity in Moonshine, and Water being put to them, there was a greenish Liquor made, to which they added the Flower of Milk, and an Extraction from the Canes of
America,
for performing a Libation to the infernal
Powers
of
Mischief.
After this,
Curiosity,
retiring to a withdrawing-Room, brought forth the
Victims,
being to Appearance a Sett of small waxen Images, which she laid upon the Table one after another. Immediately
Talkativeness
gave each of them the Name of some one, whom for the Time they were to represent; and
Censoriousness
stuck them all about with black Pins, still pronouncing at every one she stuck, something to the Prejudice of the Persons represented. No sooner were these Rites performed, and Incantations uttered, but the Sound of a Speaking Trumpet was heard in the Air, by which they knew the
Deity
of the Place was propitiated and assisting. Upon this the Sky grew darker, a Storm arose, and Murmurs, Sighs, Groans, Cries, and the Words of Grief or Resentment were heard within it. Thus the three
Sorceresses
discovered, that they, whose Names they had given to the Images, were already affected with what was done to them in Effigie. The Knowledge of this was received with loudest the Laughter, and in many Congratulatory Words they applauded one another's Wit and Power.
As Matters were at this high Point of Disorder, the muffled Lady, whom I attended on, being no longer able to endure such barbarous Proceedings, threw off her upper Garment of
Reserve,
and appeared to be
Truth.
As soon as she had confessed her self present, the Speaking-Trumpet ceas'd to Sound, the Sky cleared up, the Storm abated, the Noises which were heard in it ended, the Laughter of the Company was over, and a serene Light, till then unknown to the Place, was diffused around it. At this the detected
Sorceresses
endeavoured to escape in a Cloud which I saw began to thicken about them, but it was soon dispersed, their Charms being controled and prevailed over by the superior
Divinity.
For my Part I was exceedingly glad to see it so, and began to consider what Punishments she would inflict upon them. I fancied it would be proper to cut off
Curiosity
's Ears, and fix them to the Eaves of Houses, to nail the Tongue of
Talkativeness
to
Indian
Tables, and to put out the Eyes of
Censoriousness
with a Flash of her Light. In respect of
Credulity
I had indeed some little Pity, and had I been Judge she might, perhaps, have escaped with a hearty Reproof.
But I soon found that the discerning
Judge
had other Designs, she knew them for such as will not be destroyed intirely while Mankind is in Being, and yet ought to have a Brand and Punishment affixed to them that they may be avoided. Wherefore she took a Seat for Judgment, and had the
Criminals
brought forward by
Shame
ever blushing, and
Trouble
with a Whip of many Lashes, two Phantoms who had dogged the Procession in Disguise, and waited 'till they had an Authority from
Truth
to lay Hands upon them. Immediately then she ordered
Curiosity
and
Talkativeness
to be fettered together, that the one should never suffer the other to rest, nor the other ever let her remain undiscovered. Light
Credulity
she linkt to
Shame
at the Tormenter's own Request, who was pleased to be thus secure that her Prisoner could not escape; and this was done partly for her Punishment, and partly for her Amendment.
Censoriousness
was also in like manner begged by
Trouble,
and had her assign'd for an eternal Companion. After they were thus chain'd with one another, by the Judge's Order, she drove them from the Presence to wander for ever thro' the World, with
Novelty
stalking before them.
The Cause being now over, she retreated from sight within the Splendor of her own Glory, which leaving the House it had brightned, the Sounds that were proper to the Place began to be as loud and confused as when we entered, and there being no longer a clear distinguished Appearance of any Objects represented to me, I returned from the Excursion I had made in Fancy.
VISION V.
WHatever Industry and Eagerness the modern Discoverers have shewn for the Knowledge of new Countries, there yet remains an ample Field in the Creation to which they are utter Strangers, and which all the Methods of Travelling hitherto invented, will never bring them acquainted with. Of this I can give a very particular Instance in an Accident which lately happened to me.
As I was on the 6th of this Instant, being
Febr.
1715, walking with my Eyes cast upward, I fell into a Reflection on the vast Tracts of Air which appear'd before me as uninhabited. And wherefore, said I to my self, shou'd all this Space be created? Can it only be for an odd Bird to fly through, as now and then a Man may pass a Desart? Or are there also Kingdoms with their particular Polities, and People of a Species which we know nothing of, ordain'd to live in it.
It was in this Manner I continued my Thought, when my Feet forsook the Level, and I was insensibly mounted in the Air, till I arriv'd at a footing as firm and level as what I had left. But with what Surprise did I find my self among Creatures distinct from us in Shape and Customs?
The Inhabitants are of a small Stature, below those which History describes for Pigmies. The tallest of them exceed not fourteen or fifteen Inches, and the least are hardly three. This difference proceeds only from their Growth before they are brought to Light; for after we never observe them to grow, unless it please their Parents, who have this uncommon Method of enabling them: They recall them to the Womb, where having been for some Time, they receive an Addition to their Bulk, then go back to their Houses, and continue at a Stand as they did before. The Experiment has been often try'd with Success, but some have suffered extremely by undergoing it.
Their Skins are like the antient
Britains,
all drawn over with a Variety of Figures. The Colour made use of for this end, is generally Black. I have indeed observ'd in some of the Religious, and Lawyers of the Country, Red here and there intermingl'd, tho' not so commonly of late. They tell me too, they often us'd to paint with all Colours; and I visited two or three of the old Inhabitants, who were adorn'd in that Fashion: But this is now disused, since the new Inventions, by which the use of a black Fountain that belongs to that Country, is render'd more useful and serviceable.
The
Cloaths
in which they go clad, are the Skins of Beasts, worn by some Plain, by others with Figures wrought upon them. Gold is also made use of by some, to beautify their Apparel; but very seldom Silver, unless, as Buckles are by us, for fastening the Garment before. I have seen some of them go like Seamen in thin blue Shirts, others like
Indians
in a party-colour'd loose kind of Apparel, and others who they told me were the
Politicians
of the Country, go about stark naked.
The Manner of dressing them is this: At first when they come into the World, they have a Suit given them, which if it do not fit exactly, is not, as with us, fitted up again, but the Children are in a cruel Manner cut and squeez'd to bring them to its Proportion. Yet this they seem not much to regard, provided their principal Parts are not affected. When the Dress is thus settled on them, they are clad for Life, it being seldom their Custom to alter it, or put it off: In short, they live in it Night and Day, and wear it to Rags rather than part with it, being sure of the same Torture, and a greater Danger if they shou'd be dress'd a second Time. I have further taken Notice, that they delight to go open Breasted, most of them shewing their Bosoms speckled. Some
Lawyers
indeed wear them quite White, perhaps for Distinction sake, or to be known at a Distance. But the finest Shew, is among the Beaux and Ladies, who mightily affect something of Gold, both before and behind them.
Food
I never saw them eat; they being a People, who, as I observed, live in Air: Their
Houses
are all single and high, having no back Rooms, but frequently seven or eight Stories, which are all separate Houses above one another. They have one Gate to their City, and generally no Doors to their Houses; tho' I have sometimes seen them have particular Doors, and even made of Glass, where the Inhabitants have been observ'd to stand many Days, that their fine Apparel may be seen thro' them. If at any time they lye down, which they do when they come from their Habitations (as if coming Abroad were their greatest Fatigue) they will lie together in Heaps without receiving Hurt: Though the soundest Sleep they get, is when they can have Dust enough to cover them over.
The Females amongst them are but few, nothing being there produced by a Marriage of Sexes. The Males are of a different Strength or Endowment of Parts, some having Knowledge in an extream Degree, and others none at all; yet at the same Time, they are mighty Pretenders to instruct others. Their
Names,
(for as many as wou'd discover them to me) I observ'd to be the very same as ours are upon Earth; I met a few who made theirs a Mystery, but why, I am yet to learn. They are so communicative, that they will tell all the Knowledge they boast, if a Stranger apply himself to their Conversation: And this may be worth his while, if he considers that all Languages, Arts, and Sciences, are profest amongst them. I think I may say it without Vanity, that I knew a certain
Talisman,
with proper Figures and Characters inscrib'd, whereby their greatest People may be charm'd, brought to reside with a Man, and serve him like a Familiar in the Conduct of Life.
There is no such thing as
fighting
amongst them, but their Controversies are determin'd by
Words,
wherein they seldom own themselves conquer'd, yet proceed no further than two or three Replies: Perhaps indeed two others take up their Neighbour's Quarrel, but then they desist too after the same Manner; sometimes however, Blows have ensu'd upon their Account, though not amongst them: In such a Case they have descended to inspire Mankind with their Sentiments, and chosen Champions from among us, in order to decide it.
The Time of their
Life
is very different, some dye as soon as born, and others in their Youth; some get a new Lease of Life by their entring into the Womb again, and if any weather it out to a hundred Years, they generally live on to an extreme Age. After which it is remarkable, that instead of growing weaker as we do, by Time, they increase in Strength, and become at last so confirm'd in Health, that it is the Opinion of their Country, they never can perish while the World remains.
The
Sicknesses
which may take them off, besides what happens from their natural Weakness of Body, are of different Sorts. One is
over-moisture,
which affecting their Mansions, makes them lose their Complexions, become deform'd, and rot away insensibly: This is often obviated by their not keeping too much within Doors. Another is the
Worms,
which prey upon their Bowels: If they be maim'd by Accidents, they become, like us, so far useless; and that Maim will some time or other be the Occasion of their Ruin. However, they perish by these Means only in Appearance, and like Spirits, who vanish in one Place, to be seen in another. But as Men dye of Passions, so
Disesteem
is what the most nearly touches them; then they withdraw into, Holes and Corners, and consume away in Darkness. Or if they are kept alive a few Days by the force of
Spices,
it is but a short Reprieve from their perishing to Eternity; without any Honour, but that instead of a Burial, a small Pyre of
Past
shou'd be erected over them, while they, like the antient
Romans,
are reduc'd to Ashes.
N. B.
This Vision is to be understood of a Library of
Books.
FINIS.
ERRATA,
In
Pervigilio Veneris.
Pag. 48. vers. 2. pro
spameo,
lege
spumeo.
p. 50. v. 10.
muae,
lege
mane.
p. 56. v. 3.
Detinent, & tota nox,
lege
Decinent—
p. 64 .v. 4.
Explicat acnii latus,
lege
Explicant tauri latus.
p. 64. v. 9.
Adsonant Terei puella,
lege
Adsonat Terei puella.
INDEX.
HESIOD,
or the Rise of Woman.
Page 1
Song.
Page 18, 19, 21
Anacreontick.
Page 23, 28
A Fairy Tale, in the ancient
English
Style.
Page 32
Pervigilium Veneris. Page 47
The Vigil of
Venus. Page 47
Battle of the Frogs and Mice.
Page 71
To Mr.
Pope. Page 105
Part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock Translated.
Page 112
Health; an Eclogue.
Page 116
The Flies; an Eclogue.
Page 122
An Elegy. To an old Beauty.
Page 128
The Book-Worm.
Page 134
An Allegory on Man.
Page 141
In Imitation of some
French
Verses.
Page 148
A Night-piece on Death.
Page 152
A Hymn to Contentment.
Page 158
The Hermit.
Page 164
VISIONS.
VISIONS
I. Page 183
Vision
II. Page 191
Vision
III. Page 199
Vision
IV. Page 207
Vision
V. Page 215
BOOKS printed for
BERNARD LINTOT.
MR.
Pope
's Homer in 6 Vol. 4to Royal, fol. and 12mo.
— His Miscellaneous Poems.—
Miscellany Poems, by his Grace of
Buckingham,
&c.
Oxford
and
Cambridge
Miscellany Poems.
Mr.
Fenton
's Miscellaneous Poems.
Dr.
King
's Miscellanies, 2 Vol.
— His Art of Cookery, in Imitation of
Horace
's Art of Poetry.
— His Art of Love, in Imitation of
Ovid.
Dryden
's Art of Painting, Corrected by Mr.
Pope,
and Mr.
Jervas.
Wiqueforts
complete Ambassador.
Dr.
Fiddes
's Body of Divinity, 2 Vol.
Dr.
Keill
's Astronomy, Corrected by Dr.
Halley.
The Works of
Chaucer,
in large and small Paper fol. with Cutts.
Coke
's Comment on
Littleton
The 11th Edition.
Laurence
of Gardening, with Cuts.
James
of Gardening, with Cuts.