The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper

Then raptures high the seat of sense o'erflow,
Which only heads refin'd from reason know. [nods,
Hence, from the straw where Bedlam's prophet
He hears loud oracles, and talks with gods:
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic wish, the chymist's flame,
And poet's vision of eternal fame.

And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd,
The king descended to th' Elysian shade.
There, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls,
Old Bavius sits, to dip poetic souls,
And blunt the sense, and fit it for a scull
Of solid proof, impenetrably dull:
Instant when dipt, away they'wing their flight,
Where Brown and Mears unbar the gates of light,
Demand new bodies, and in calf's array,
Rush to the world, impatient for the day.
Millions and millions on these banks he views,
Thick as the stars of night, and morning dews,
As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly,
As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory.

Wond'ring he gaz'd: When lo! a sage appears,
By his broad shoulders known, and length of ears,
Known by the band and suit which Settle wore,
(His only suit) for twice three years before:
All as the vest appear'd the wearer's frame,
Old in new-state, another yet the same.
Bland and familiar, as in life, begun
Thus the great father to the greater son.

"Oh born to see what none can see awake!

Behold the wonders of th' oblivious lake,

"How little, mark! that portion of the ball,
Where, faint at best, the beams of science fall;
Soon as they draw, from Hyperborean skies,
Embody'd dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!
Lo where Mootis sleeps, and hardly flows
The freezing Tanais thro' a waste of snows,
The north by myriads pours her mighty sons,
Great nurse of Goths, of Alans, and of Huns.
See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame
Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name!

"See, the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall;
See, the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul.
See, where the morning gilds the palmy shore
(The soil that arts and infant letters bore)
His conqu'ring tribes th' Arabian prophet draws,
And saving ignorance enthrones by laws.
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep;
And all the western world believe and sleep.

"Lo Rome herself, proud mistress now no more
Of arts, but thund'ring against heathen lore;
Her gray-hair'd synods damning books unread,
And Bacon trembling for his brazen head;
Padua with sighs behold her Livy burn,
And ev'n th' Antinodes Virgilius mourn.
See, the cirque falls, th' unpillar'd temple nods,
Streets pav'd with heroes, Tyber choak'd with gods:
Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn,
And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn;
See graceless Venus to a virgin turn'd,

Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'd.
"Behold yon isle, by palmers, pilgrims trod,
Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, unshod,

brothers,

Thou, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred shore; Peel'd, patch'd, and pyebald, linsey-woolsey
The hand of Bavius drench'd thee o'er and o'er.
But blind to former, as to future fate,
What mortal knows his pre-existent state?
Who knows how long, thy transmigrating soul
Might from Boeotian to Boeotian roll!
How many Dutchmen she vouchsaf'd to thrid ?
How many stages thro' old monks she rid?
And all who since, in mild benighted days,
Mix'd the owl's ivy with the poet's bays?
As man's meanders to the vital spring
Roll all their tides, then back their circles bring;
Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain,
Suck the thread in, then yield it out again:
All nonsense thus, of old or modern date,
Shall in thee center, from thee circulate.
For this, our queen unfolds to vision true
Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view:
Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind
Shall first recall'd, rush forward to thy mind;
Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising reign,
And let the past and future fire thy brain.
"Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands
Her boundless empire over seas and lands.
See round the poles where keener spangles shine,
Where spices smoke beneath the burning line,
(Earth's wide extremes) her sable flag display'd;
And all the nations cover'd in her shade!
"Fareastward cast thine eye, from whence the Sun
And orient-science at a birth begun.
One god-like monarch all that pride confounds,
He, whose long wall the wand'ring Tartar bounds.
Heav'ns! what a pile? whole ages perish there:
And one bright blaze turns learning into air.
"Thence to the south extend thy gladden'd eyes;
There rival flames with equal glory rise,
From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll,
And lick up all their physic of the soul.

[others.
Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless
That once was Britain-Happy! had she scen
No fiercer sons, had Easter never been!
In peace, great goddess, ever be ador'd;
How keen the war, if Dulness draw the sword?
Thus visit not thy own! on this blest age
Oh spread thy influence, but restrain thy rage.
"And see! my son, the hour is on its way,
That lifts our goddess to imperial sway;
This fav'rite isle, long sever'd from her reign,
Dove like, she gathers to her wings again.
Now look thro' fate! behold the scene she draws!
What aids, what armies, to assert her cause?
See all her progeny, illustrious sight!
Behold, and count them, as they rise to light.
As Berecynthia, while her off-spring vie
In homage, to the mother of the sky,
Surveys around her in her blest abode
A hundred sons, and every son a god :
Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd
Shall take thro' Grubstreet her triumphant round,
And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once,
Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce.

"Mark first that youth who takes the foremost
And thrusts his person full into your face. [place,
With all thy father's virtues blest, be born!
And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn.

"A second see, by meeker manners known,
And modest as the maid that sips alone;
From the strong fate of drams if thou get free,
Another Durfey, Ward! shall sing in thee.
Thee shall each ale-house, thee each gill-house

mourn,

And answering gin-shops sourer sighs return.

"Lo next two slip-shod Muses traipse along, In lofty madness, meditating song,

With tresses staring from poetic dreams,
And never wash'd, but in Castalia's streams :
Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race!
Lo Horneck's fierce, and Room's funereal face;
Lo sneering Goode, half malice and half whim,
A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim.
Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with awe,
Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law.
Lo Bond and Foxton, ev'ry nameless name,
All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame.
Some strain in rhyme; the Muses, on their racks,
Scream like the winding of ten thousand jacks:
Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or check,
Break Priscian's head, and Pegasus's neck;
Down, down they larum, with impetuous whirl,
The Pindars, and the Miltons of a Curl.

[howls,

"Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cinthia And makes night hideous-Answer him ye owls! "Sense, specch, and measure, living tongues, and Let all give way-and Morris may be read. [dead, "Flow, Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer, beer, Tho' stale, not ripe; tho' thin, yet never clear; So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull; Heady, not strong; and foaming, tho' not full.

"Ah Denuis! Gildon ah! what ill-starr'd rage
Divides a friendship long confirm'd by age?
Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor,
But fool with fool is barb'rous civil war.
Embrace, embrace my sons! be foes no more!
Nor glad vile poets with true critics gore.

"Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd;
How like in manners, and how like in mind!
Fam'd for good nature, Burnet, and for truth;
Ducket, for pious passion to the youth.
Equal in wit, and equally polite,
Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler write;
Like are their merits, like rewards they share,
That shines a consul, this commissioner."

"But who is he, in closet close y pent, Of sober face, with learned dust besprent?"

Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight, On parchment scraps y fed, and Wormius hight. To future ages may thy dulness last,

As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past! [mark,
There, dim in clouds, the poring scholiasts
Wits, who like owls see only in the dark,
A lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head;
For ever reading, never to be read!

"But, where each science lifts its modern type,
Hist'ry her pot, Divinity his pipe,
While proud Philosophy repines to show,
Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below;
Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo Henley stands,
Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands.
How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue!
How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung.
Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain,
While Kennet, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain.
Oh great restorer of the good old stage,
Preacher at once, and zany of thy age!
Oh worthy thou of Egypt's wise abodes,
A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods!
But fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall,
Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and mawl;
And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise,
In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days.

"Yet oh my sons! a father's words attend : (So may the fates preserve the ears you lend) 'Tis yours, a Bacon or a Locke to blame, A Newton's genius, or a Milton's flame:

But O! with One, immortal One dispense,
The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's sense!
Content, each emanation of his fires

That beams on Earth, each virtue he inspires,
Fach art he prompts, each charm he can create,
Whate'er he gives, are giv'n for you to hate.
Persist, by all divine in man unaw'd,
But learn, ye dunces! not to scorn your God."
Thus he, for then a ray of reason stole
Half thro' the solid darkness of his soul;
But soon the cloud return'd-and thus the sire:
See now,
what Dulness and her sons admire!
See what the charms that smite the simple heart,
Not touch'd by nature, and not reach'd by art."
He look'd, and saw a sable sorc'rer rise,
Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies:
All sudden, Gorgons hiss, and dragons glare,
And ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war.
Hell rises, Heav'n descends, and dance on Earth,
Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth,
A fire, a jigg, a battle, and a ball,
Till one wide conflagration swallows all.
Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknown,
Breaks out refulgent, with a heav'n its own.
Another Cynthia her new journey runs,
And other planets circle other suns:
The forests dance, the rivers upward rise,
Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the
skies;

And last, to give the whole creation grace,
Lo! one vast egg produces human race.
Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought:
What pow'r," he cries, "what power these won-
ders wrought?"

"Son! what thou seek'st is in thee. Look, and find Each monster meets his likeness in thy mind. Yet would'st thou more? In yonder cloud behold, Whose sarcenet skirts are edg'd with flamy gold, A matchless youth! His nod these worlds controls, Wings the red lightning, and the thunder rolls. Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round Her magic charms o'er all unclassic ground: Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher, Illumes their light, and sets their flames on fire. Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; And proud his mistress' orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. "But lo! to dark encounter in mid air New wizards rise: here Booth, and Cibber there: Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd, On grinning dragons Cibber mounts the wind: Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din, Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln's Inn; Contending theatres our empire raise, Alike their labours, and alike their praise.

"And are these wonders, son, to thee unknown? Unknown to thee? these wonders are thy own. For works like these let deathless journals tell, 'None but thyself can be thy parallel.' These, fate reserv'd to grace thy reign divine, Foreseen by me, but ah! withheld from mine. In Lud's old walls tho' long I rul'd renown'd, Far, as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound; Tho' my own aldermen conferr'd my bays, To me committing their eternal praise, Their full-fed heroes, their pacific may'rs, Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars: Tho' long my party built on me their hopes, For writing pamphlets, and for roasting popes;

(Diff'rent our partics, but with equal grace
The goddess smiles on Whig and Tory race,
'Tis the same rope that several ends they twist,
To Dulness, Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)
Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag on!
Reduc'd at last to hiss in my own dragon.
Avert it, Heav'n! that thou or Cibber e'er
Should wag two serpent-tails in Smithfield fair.
Like the vile straw that's blown about the streets,
The needy poet sticks to all he meets,
Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now fast,
And carry'd off in some dog's tail at last.
Happier thy fortunes! like a rolling stone,
Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on,
Safe in its heaviness can never stray,
And licks up every blockhead in the way.
Thy dragons magistrates and peers shall taste,
And from each show rise duller than the last;
Till rais'd from booths to theatre, to court,
Her seat imperial, Dulness shall transport.
Already opera prepares the way,

'The sure fore-runner of her gentle sway.

To aid her cause, if Heav'n thou canst not bend,
Hell thou shalt move; for Faustus is thy friend:
Pluto with Cato thou for her shalt join,
And link the Mourning Bride to Proserpine.
Grub-street! thy fall should men and gods conspire,
Thy stage shall stand, ensure it but from fire:
Another Eschylus appears! prepare
For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair!
In flames, like Semele's, be brought to bed,
While opening Hell spouts wild-fire at your head.
"Now Bavius take the poppy from thy brow,
And place it here here all ye heroes bow!
This, this is he, foretold by ancient rhymes:
Th' Augustus, born to bring Saturnian times :
Beneath his reign, shall Eusden wear the bays,
Cibber preside, lord-chancellor of plays.

Benson sole judge of architecture sit,
And Ambrose Philips be preferr'd for wit!
While naked mourns the dormitory wall,
And Jones' and Boyle's united labours fall,
While Wren with sorrow to the grave descends,
Gay dies unpension'd with a hundred friends,
Hibernian politicks, O Swift, thy fate,
And Pope's whole years to comment and translate.
"Proceed great days! till learning fly the shore,
Till birch shall blush with noble blood no more,
Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play,
Till Westminster's whole year be holiday;
Till Isis' elders reel, their pupils sport;
And Alma Mater lye dissolv'd in port!

[year;

"Signs following signs lead on the mighty
See the dull star roll round and re-appear.
She comes the cloud-compelling pow'r behold!
With night primeval, and with chaos old.
Lo! the great anarch's ancient reign restor❜d;
Light dies before her uncreating word.

As one by one, at dread Medæa's strain,
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ;
As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest,
Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
Art after art goes out, and all is night.
See sculking Truth in her old cavern lye,
Secur'd by mountains of heap'd casuistry:
Philosophy, that touch'd the heav'ns before,
Shrinks to her hidden cause, and is no more:
See Physic beg the Stagyrite's defence!
See Metaphysic call for aid on sense!
See Mystery to mathematics fly;
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Thy hand, great Dulness! lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all."

"Enough! enough!" the raptur'd monarch And thro' the ivory gate the vision flies. [cries;

G. WOODFALL, Printer, Paternester-row, London.

END OF VOL. XIL

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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper: Including ..., Volume 12