The young, the old, who feel her inward sway,
One instinct seizes, and transports away.
None need a guide, by sure attraction led,
And strong impulsive gravity of head :
None want a place, for all their centre found
Hung to the goddess, and coher'd around.
Not closer, orb in orb, conglob'd are seen
The buzzing bees about their dusky queen.

The gathering number, as it moves along,
Involves a vast involuntary throng,
Who, gently drawn, and struggling less and less,
Roll in her vortex, and her pow'r confess :
Not those alone who passive own her laws,
But who, weak rebels, more advance her cause
Whate'er of Dunce in college or in town
Sneers at another, in toupee or gown;
Whate'er of mongrel no one class adm'ts,
A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.

Nor absent they, no members of her state,
Who pay her homage in her sons, the great;
Who, false to Phœbus, bow the knee to Baal,
Or impious, preach his word without a call;
Patrons, who sneak from living worth to dead,
Withhold the pension, and set up the head;
Or vest dull flattery in the sacred gown,
Or give from fool to fool the laurel crown:
And (last and worst) with all the cant of wit,
Without the soul, the muse's hypocrite.

REMARKS.

80

90

100

The

Ver. 76 to 101. It ought to be observed that here are three classes in this assembly. The first, of men absolutely and avowedly dull, who naturally adhere to the goddess, and are imaged in the simile of the bees about their queen. second involuntarily drawn to het, though not caring to own her influence; from ver. 1 to 90. The third, of such as, though not members of her state, yet advance her service ay flattering Dulness, cultivating mistaken talents, patronising vile ser bblers, discouraging living merit, or setting up For wits, and men of taste in arts they understand 1ct; fon o 91 to 101.

There march'd the bard and blockhead side by side,

Who rhym'd for hire, and patroniz'd for pride.
Narcissus, prais'd with all a parson's power,
Look'd a white lily sunk beneath a shower
There mov'd Montalto with superior air;
His stretch'd-out arm display'd a volume fair;
Courtiers and patriots in two ranks divide,

Through both he pass'd, and bow'd from side to side';
But as in graceful act, with awful eye,

Compos'd he stood, bold Benson thrust him by : 110
On two unequal crutches propt he came,
Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's name
The decent knight retir'd with sober rage,
Withdrew his hand, and clos'd the pompous page;
But (happy for him as the times went then)
Appear'd Apollo's mayor and aldermen,

On whom three hundred gold-capt youths await,
To lug the ponderous volume off in state.

When Dulness, smiling-Thus revive the wits!
But nurder first, and inince them all to bits;

REMARKS.

120

Ver. 108. --bow'd from side to side:] As being of no one party.

Ver. 110. Bold Benson.] This man endeavoured to raise himself to fame by erecting monuments, striking coins, se ting up heads, and procuring translations of Milion; and after wards by as great a passion for Arthur Johnston, a Scotch, physician's Version of the Psalms, of which he printed many Line editions. Se more of hum, Book isi. ver. 325.

Ver. 113. The decent knight.] An eminent person who was about to publish a very pompous edition of n great uuthot at his own expense.

Ver. 115, &c. These four lines were printed in a sepa rate leaf by Mr. Pope in the last edition, which he himself gave, of the Dunciad, wi h directions to the printer, to pu this leaf into its plice as soon as Sir T. H.'s Shakspeare should be pubished.

Ver. 119. Thus revive,' &c.] The goddess applauda the practice of tacking the obscure names of persons not eminent in any branch of lerruing t• Jose of the n os' distinguished writers; ei her by iuting editions of theit works

As erst Medea (cruel, so to save!)

A new edition of old Æson gave,

Let standard authors thus, like trophies borne,
Appear more glorious as more hack'd and torn
And you, my critics! in the chequer'd shade,
Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have made.
Leave not a foot of verse, a foot of stone,

A page, a grave, that they can call their own;
But spread, my sons, your glory thin or thick,
On passive paper, or on solid brick;
So by cach bard an alderman shall sit,
A heavy lord shall hang at every wit,

And while on Fame's triumphant car they ride,
Some s'ive of mine be pinion'd to their side.'

130

Now crowds on crowds around the goddess press Each ager to present the first address.

Dunca ecorning dunce behold the next advance, shows fop superior complaisance.

But f

REMARKS.

with impertinent alterations of their text, as in former instances; or by setting up monumen's dægraced with their own vile names and inscriptions, as in the jetter.

Ver. 128. A page, a grave,] Fo: ass than a grave can be granted to a dead author! or what less than a page can be allowed a living one?

Ibid. A page, Pagina, not peli sequus. A page of a brok, not a servant, follower, cesta Ent; no poet having rai a page since the death of M.. Thomas Durley. Scriol Ver. 131. So by each bar i za slderman, &c.] Vide the Tombs of the Poets, editio Nest nonasteriensis.

Ibid. -an alderman sha', t} Alluding to the monu ment erected for Butler by 2,der an Barber.

Ver. 132. A heavy bord stil' .ng at every wit,] How unnatural an image, and new all supported! saith Aristarchus. ilad it been,

A heavy withing at every lord

something might neve heɑn said, in an age so listinguished for well-judge pre 8. I oi lord, then, read load, that is, of debts he.e. and of commentaries hereafter. To this pur pose, conspicuous is the case of the poor author of Hudibras, whose "od 7, buy since weighed down to the grave by a loue fdts ha lately had a more unmerciful load of commen

Whet lo! a spectre rose, whose index-hand
Held forth the virtue of the dreadful wand;
His beaver'd brow a birchen garland wears,
Dropping with infants' blood and inothers' tcais.
O'er every vein a shuddering horror runs;
Eton and Winton shake through all their sons.
All flesh is humbled, Westminster's bold race
Shrink, and confess the Genius of the place:
The pale boy-senator yet tingling stands,

110

And holds his breeches close with both his hands. Then thus: Since man from beast by words ■ known,

Words are inan's province, words we teach alone. 150 When reason, doubtful, like the Samian letter,

Points him two ways, the narrower is the better.

REMARKS.

taries laid upon his spirit; wherein the editor has achieved more than Virgil himself, when he turned critic, could boost of, which was only, that he had picked gold out of ano hep mian's dung; whereas the editor has picked it out of his Scribl.

Wn

Aristarchus thinks the common reading right: and that the author himself had been struggling, and but just shaken off his load, when he wrote the following epigram:

My lord complains, that Pope, stark mad with gardens,
Has lopp'd three trees, the value of three farthings:
But he's my neighbour, cries the peer polite,

And if he'll visit me, I'd wave my right.
What! on compulsion? and against my will,
A lord's acquaintance? Let him file his bill.
Ver. 137, 138.

Dunce scorning dunce behold the next advance,
But fop shows fop superior complaisance.]

This is not to be ascribed so much to the different manneri of a court and college, as to the different effects which & pretence to learning and a pretence to wit, have on blockheads. For as judgment consists in finding out the differences in things, and wit in finding out their likenesses, so the dunce is all discord and dissension, and constantly busid in reproving, examining, confuting, &c. while the top Sourishes in peace, with songs and hymnus of praise, nddresses, characters, epithalamiums, &c.

Ver. 140. The dreadful wand;] A cane usually borne Dy schoolmasters, which drives the poor souls about like the wand of Mercury. Scribl. Ver. 151. Like the Samian letter. The letter Y used

Flared at the door of learning, youth to guide,
We never suffer it to stand too wide.

To ask, to guess, to know, as they commerce,
As tancy opens the quick springs of sense,
We ply the memory, we load the brain,
Bind rebel wit, and double chain on chain,
Confine the thought to exercise the breath;
And keep them in the pale of words till death.
Whate'er the talents, or howe'er design'd,
We hang one jingling padlock on the mind:
A poet the first day he dips his quill;
And what the last? a very poet still.
Puty! the charm works only in our wall,
Lost, lost too soon in yonder house or hall.
There truant Windham every muse gave o'er,
There Talbot sunk, and was a wit no more!
How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast!
How many Martials were in Pulteney lost!
Else sure some bard, to our eternal praise,
In twice ten thousand rhyming nights and days,
Had reach'd the work, the all that mortal can;
And South beheld that master-piece of man.

'Oh,' cried the goddess, * for some pedant reign! Some gentle James, to bless the land again;

REMARKS.

Pythagoras, as an emblen of the different roads of virtue

and vice.

Et tibi quæ Samios diduxit litera ramos.'-Pers Ver. 174. That master-piece of man.] - Viz, an epigram. The famous Dr. South declared a perfect epigram to be as diflicult a performance as an epic poem. And the crit ca Bay, An epic poem is the greatest work human nature is capable of.

Ver. 176. Some gentle James, &c.] Wilson tells us that this king, James the first, took upon himself to teach the Latin tongue to Car, earl of Somerset; and that Gondomar the Spanish ambassador, would speak false Latin to him on purpose to give him the pleasure of correcting it, whereby be wrought himself to his good graces.

This great prince was the first who assumed the title of Bare Majesty, which his hyal clergy transferred from