1.1. 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
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
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;
Youth, the gentle Troilus
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.
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.
1.3. 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.
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.
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
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.
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.
1.7. 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.
1.8. 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.
1.9. 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
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
Plant: The Blood fair Venus
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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:
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.
1.12. 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.
1.13. 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,
1.14. 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
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,
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.
1.16. 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.
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
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.
1.19. 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.
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.
1.21. 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.
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.
2. VISIONS, Publiſh'd in the SPECTATORS, &c.
2.1. VISION I.
SPECTATOR. No. 460.
‘Decipimur Specie Recti—
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
[Page 184] 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;
[Page 185] 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.
[Page 186] 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,
[Page 187] 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,
[Page 188] 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
[Page 189] 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
[Page 190] 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.
2.2. 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
[Page 192] 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
[Page 193] 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
[Page 194] 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.
[Page 195] 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
[Page 196] 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
[Page 197] 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
[Page 198] 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.
2.3. VISION III.
GUARDIAN. No. 56.
Quid mentem traxiſſe polo, quid profuit altum
Erexiſſe caput? pecudum ſimore pererrant.
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
[Page 200] 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
[Page 201] 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
[Page 202] 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)
[Page 203] 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,
[Page 204] 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
[Page 205] 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,
[Page 206] 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.
2.4. 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,
[Page 208] 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
[Page 209] 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,
[Page 210] 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
[Page 211] 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
[Page 212] 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.
[Page 214] 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.
2.5. 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.
[Page 216] 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.
[Page 217] 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
[Page 218] 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
[Page 219] 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.
[Page 220] 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
[Page 221] 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.