POEMS ON READING THE TRAVELS OF CAPTAIN LEMUEL GULLIVER. [ON the publication of Gulliver's Travels, Pope wrote several pieces of humour, intended to accompany the work, which he sent to Swift; and in a letter some time afterwards, dated 8th March, 1726-7, he says: "You received, I hope, some commendatory verses from a Horse and a Lilliputian to Gulliver, and an heroic Epistle of Mrs. Gulliver. The bookseller would fain have printed them before the second edition of the book; but I would not permit it without your approbation; nor do I much like them."-It is probable, however, that Swift sent them to the press, as they were printed in the same year (1727,) at Dublin, by and for John Hyde, bookseller in Dame-street, in a small duodecimo of sixteen pages, under the title of Poems occasioned by reading the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, explanatory and commendatory; from which edition they are here given.] TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN, THE MAN-MOUNTAIN. AN ODE BY TITTY TIT, POET LAUREATE TO HIS MAJESTY OF LILLIPUT. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH. IN amaze Lost I gaze! Can our eyes May my lays Swell with praise, Worthy thee! Worthy me! Muse, inspire Of him told, When they said Atlas' head Propp'd the skies: See! and believe your eyes! See him stride Valleys wide, Over woods, Over floods! When he treads, Mountains' heads Groan and shake: Armies quake; Lest his spurn Overturn Man and steed: Troops, take heed! Left and right, Speed your flight! Lest an host Beneath his foot be lost! Turn'd aside From his hide Safe from wound, Darts rebound. From his nose Clouds he blows: When he speaks, When he eats, Famine threats! When he drinks, Neptune shrinks! In mid air, On thy hand Let me stand; So shall I, Lofty poet! touch the sky. THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG. A PASTORAL. Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, In peals of thunder now she roars, and now, Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain, And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide, While pepper-water worms thy bait supplied; "Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast! But little creatures enterprise the most. Trembling I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw, Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at taw, Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew ; Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you! "Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth? Who from a page can ever learn the truth? Versed in court-tricks, that money-loving boy To some lord's daughter sold the living toy; Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, As children tear the wings of flies away. From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam, And never will return, or bring thee home. But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind? How then thy fairy footsteps can I find? Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone In the green thicket of a mossy stone; Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slippery round, O show me, Flora, 'midst those sweets, the flower On little females, and on little loves; Hast thou for these now ventured from the shore, No more behold thee turn my watch's key, How wert thou wont to walk with cautious tread, A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head! She spoke; but broken accents stopp'd her voice, Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noise: |