In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read,
Ere Pallas iffu'd from the Thunderer's head,
Dulness o'er all possess'd her ancient right,
Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:
Fate in their dotage, this fair Idiot gave,
Grofs as her fire, and as her mother grave,
Laborious, heavy, bufy, bold, and blind,
She rul'd, in native Anarchy, the mind.

REMARKS.

grecable only to the tafte of the Rabble, were by the Hero of this poem, and others of equal genius, brought to the Theatres of Covent-garden, Lincoln's-inn-fields and the Hay-market, to be the reigning pleasures of the Court and Town. This happened in the reigns of K. George I. and IF. See Book iii.

Ver. 4. By Dulnefs, Jove, and Fate :] i. e. by their Judgments, their Interests, and their Inclinations.

Ver. 15. Laborious, heavy, bufy, bold, &c.] I wonder the learned Scriblerus has omitted to advertise the Reader, at the opening of this Poem, that Dulnefs here is not to be taken contractedly for mere Stupidity, but in the enlarged Senfe of the word, for all Slowness of Apprehenfion, Shortnefs of Sight, or imperfect Senfe of things. It includes (as we fee by the Poet's own words) Labour, Industry, and fome degrees of Activity and Boldness; a ruling principle not inert, but turning topfy-turvy the Understanding, and inducing an Anarchy or confufed State of Mind. This remark ought to be carried along with the reader throughout the work; and without this caution he will be apt to mistake the importance of many of the Characters, as well as of the Defign of the Poet. Hence it is, that fome have complained he chufes too mean a subject, and imagined he employs himself like Domitian, in killing flies; whereas those who have the true key will find he sports with nobler

Still her old Empire to restore she tries,
For, born a Goddess, Dulness never dies.

Oh Thou! whatever title please thine ear,
Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!
Whether thou chufe Cervantes' ferious air,
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' eafy chair,
Or praise the Court, or magnify Mankind,
Or thy griev'd Country's copper chains unbind;
From thy Boeotia though her Power retires,

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25

Mourn not, my SWIFT, at aught our Realm acquires.

REMARKS.

Here

nobler quarry, and embraces a larger compass; or, (as one faith, on a like occafion)

"Will fee his Work, like Jacob's ladder rife,

"Its foot in dirt, its head amid the skies." BENTL. Ver. 17. Still her old Empire to reftore] This reftoration makes the Completion of the Poem. Vide Book iv. Ver. 22.-laugh and shake in Rabelais' eafy chair,] The imagery is exquifite; and the equivoque in the last words, gives a peculiar elegance to the whole expreffion. The eafy chair fuits his age: Rabelais' eafy chair marks his character: and he filled and poffeffed it as the right heir and fucceffor of that original genius.

Ver. 23. Or praise the Court, or magnify Mankind,] Ironicè, alluding to Gulliver's reprefentations of both. The next line relates to the papers of the Drapier against the currency of Wood's Copper coin in Ireland, which, upon the great difcontent of the people, his Majesty was graciously pleased to recal.

Ver. 26. Mourn not, my Swift! at aught our Realm acquires.] Ironicè iterum. The Politics of England and Ireland were at this time by fome thought to be oppofite, or interfering with each other: Dr. Swift of course was in the intereft of the latter, our Author of the for

Here pleas'd behold her mighty wings out-spread
To hatch a new Saturnian age of Lead.

Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne,
And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, 30
Where o'er the gates, by his fam'd father's hand,
Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand;
One Cell there is, conceal'd from vulgar eye,
The Cave of Poverty and Poetry.

VARIATION.

Keen,

Ver. 29-39. Close to those walls, &c.] In the former Edit. thus,

Where wave the tatter'd enfigns of Rag-fair,

A yawning ruin hangs and nods in air;

Keen hollow winds howl through the bleak recefs,
Emblem of Mufic caus'd by Emptiness :

Here in one bed two shivering Sifters lie,
The Cave of Poverty and Poetry.

This, the great Mother dearer held than all
The clubs of Quidnuncs, or her own Guildhall;
Here ftood her opium, here the nurs'd her owls,
And deftin'd here th' imperial feat of fools.

Hence spring each weekly Muse the living boaft, &c. Var. Where wave the tatter'd enfigns of Rag-fair.] Rag-fair is a place near the Tower of London, where old cloaths and frippery are fold.

REMARKS.

Ver. 31. By his fam'd father's hand,] Mr. CaiusGabriel Cibber, father of the Poet-Laureate. The two Statues of the Lunatics over the gates of Bedlam-hofpital were done by him, and (as the fon juftly fays of them) are no ill monuments of his fame as an Artist.

Ver. 34. Poverty and Poetry.] I cannot here omit a remark that will greatly endear our Author to every one, who fhall attentively obferve that Humanity and Candor, VOL. III.

G

which

Prudence, whofe glafs prefents th' approaching jail: Poetic Juftice, with her lifted fcale,

Where, in nice balance, truth with gold fhe weighs,
And folid pudding against empty praise.

Here the beholds the Chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless Somethings in their causes fleep,
Till genial Jacob, or a warm Third day,
Call forth each mafs, a Poem, or a Play:

How Hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,
How new-born Nonsense first is taught to cry,
Maggots, half-form'd, in rhyme exactly meet,
And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.

Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes,
And ductile Dulness new meanders takes ;
There motly Images her fancy ftrike,
Figures ill-pair'd, and Similes unlike.
She fees a Mob of Metaphors advance,
Pleas'd with the madness of the mazy dance;
How Tragedy and Comedy embrace;
How Farce and Epic get a jumbled race ;
How Time himself stands still at her command,
Realms fhift their place, and Ocean turns to land,
Here gay description Ægypt glads with fhowers,
Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers;
Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen,
There painted vallies of eternal green,
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the fnow.

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60

65

70

75

All

Ver. 57. genial Jacob] Tonfon. The famous race

REMARKS.

Bookfellers of that name.

All these, and more, the cloud-compelling Queen

Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene.

She, tinfel'd o'er in robes of varying hues,

With felf-applause her wild creation views;
Sees momentary monsters rife and fall,

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85

And with her own fools-colours gilds them all. 'Twas on the day, when * * rich and grave, Like Cimon triumph'd both on land and wave: (Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces, Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces) Now Night descending, the proud scene was o'er, But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.

VARIATION.

Ver. 85. in the former Editions,

90

Now

'Twas on the day, when Thorold, rich and grave. Sir George Thorold, Lord Mayor of London in the year 1720.

REMARKS.

Ver. 85, 86. 'Twas on the Day, when * * rich and grave-Like Cimon triumph'd] Viz. a Lord Mayor's Day; his name the author had left in blanks, but most certainly could never be that which the Editor foifted in formerly, and which no way agrees with the chronology of the poem. BENTL.

The proceffion of a Lord Mayor is made partly by land, and partly by water-Cimon, the famous Athenian General, obtained a victory by fea, and another by land, on the fame day, over the Perfians and Barbarians.

Ver. 90. But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.] A beautiful manner of speaking, usual with poets in praise of poetry.

Ibid. But liv'd, in Settle's numbers, one day more.] Settle was poet to the City of London. His office was