Can touch immortals, ‘t is a soul like thine;
A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried,
Above all pain, all passion, and all pride,
The rage of power, the blast of public breath, 25
The lust of lucre, and the dread of death.
In vain to deserts thy retreat is made;
The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade;
‘T is hers the brave man’s latest steps to trace,
Rejudge his acts, and dignify disgrace. 30
When Int’rest calls off all her sneaking train,
And all th’ obliged desert, and all the vain,
She waits, or to the scaffold or the cell,
When the last ling’ring friend has bid farewell.
Ev’n now she shades thy evening walk with bays 35
(No hireling she, no prostitute to praise);
Ev’n now, observant of the parting ray,
Eyes the calm sunset of thy various day,
Thro’ fortune’s cloud one truly great can see,
Nor fears to tell that Mortimer is he. 40
Two Choruses to the Tragedy of Brutus
Chorus of Athenians
Chorus of Athenians
STROPHE I
YE shades, where sacred truth is sought,
Groves, where immortal sages taught,
Where heav’nly visions Plato fired,
And Epicurus lay inspired!
In vain your guiltless laurels stood 5
Unspotted long with human blood.
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
And steel now glitters in the Muses’ shades.
ANTISTROPHE I
O Heav’n-born sisters! source of Art!
Who charm the sense, or mend the heart; 10
Who lead fair Virtue’s train along,
Moral Truth and mystic Song!
To what new clime, what distant sky,
Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly?
Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore? 15
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?
STROPHE II
When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
When wild Barbarians spurn her dust;
Perhaps ev’n Britain’s utmost shore
Shall cease to blush with strangers’ gore, 20
See Arts her savage sons control,
And Athens rising near the pole!
Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madness tears them from the land.
ANTISTROPHE II
Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball? 25
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate’er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are slaves.
O curs’d effects of civil hate,
In ev’ry age, in ev’ry state! 30
Still, when the lust of tyrant Power succeeds,
Some Athens perishes, some Tully bleeds.
Chorus of Youths and Virgins
SEMICHORUS
O tyrant Love! hast thou possest
The prudent, learned, and virtuous breast?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And arts but soften us to feel thy flame.
Love, soft intruder, enters here, 5
But ent’ring learns to be sincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.
Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire
Which Nature hath imprest? 10
Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire
The mild and gen’rous breast?
CHORUS
Love’s purer flames the Gods approve;
The Gods and Brutus bend to love:
Brutus for absent Portia sighs, 15
And sterner Cassius melts at Junia’s eyes.
What is loose love? a transient gust,
Spent in a sudden storm of lust,
A vapour fed from wild desire,
A wand’ring, self-consuming fire. 20
But Hymen’s kinder flames unite,
And burn for ever one;
Chaste as cold Cynthia’s virgin light,
Productive as the sun.
SEMICHORUS
O source of ev’ry social tie, 25
United wish, and mutual joy!
What various joys on one attend,
As son, as father, brother, husband, friend?
Whether his hoary sire he spies,
While thousand grateful thoughts arise; 30
Or meets his spouse’s fonder eye,
Or views his smiling progeny;
What tender passions take their turns!
What home-felt raptures move!
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns, 35
With Rev’rence, Hope, and Love.
CHORUS
Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmises,
Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprises,
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine! 40
Purest Love’s unwasting treasure,
Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure,
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure,
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.
To Mrs. M. B. on Her Birthday
Written to Martha Blount in 1723. Lines 5–10 were elsewhere adapted for a versified celebration of his own birthday, and for an epitaph on a suicide!
OH, be thou blest with all that Heav’n can send,
Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend:
Not with those Toys the female world admire,
Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire.
With added years if Life bring nothing new, 5
But, like a sieve, let ev’ry blessing thro’,
Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o’er,
And all we gain, some sad Reflection more;
Is that a birthday? ‘t is alas! too clear,
‘T is but the funeral of the former year. 10
Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content,
And the gay Conscience of a life well spent,
Calm ev’ry thought, inspirit ev’ry grace,
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
Let day improve on day, and year on year, 15
Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear;
Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
In some soft dream, or extasy of joy,
Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb,
And wake to raptures in a life to come. 20
Answer to the Following Question of Mrs. Howe
Mary Howe was appointed Maid of Honour to Queen Caroline, in 1720. ‘Lepell’ was another Maid of Honour,
WHAT is Prudery?
‘T is a beldam,
Seen with Wit and Beauty seldom.
‘T is a fear that starts at shadows;
‘T is (no, ‘t is n’t) like Miss Meadows. 5
‘T is a virgin hard of feature,
Old, and void of all good-nature;
Lean and fretful; would seem wise,
Yet plays the fool before she dies.
‘T is an ugly envious shrew, 10
That rails at dear Lepell and you.
On a Certain Lady at Court
Catharine Howard, one of Queen Caroline’s waiting-women; afterward Countess of Suffolk and mistress to George II. Her identification as the Chloe of Moral Essays, II., makes it easier to believe Walpole’s statement that this lady once reprieved a condemned criminal that ‘an experiment might be made on his ears for her benefit.’
I KNOW the thing that ‘s most uncommon;
(Envy, be silent, and attend!)
I know a reasonable Woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend:
Not warp’d by Passion, awed by Rumour, 5
Not grave thro’ Pride, nor gay thro’ Folly,
An equal mixture of Good-humour,
&nbs
p; And sensible soft Melancholy.
‘Has she no faults then (Envy says), sir?’
Yes, she has one, I must aver: 10
When all the world conspires to praise her,
The woman’s deaf and does not hear.
To Mr. John Moore
Author of the Celebrated Worm-Powder
HOW much, egregious Moore! are we
Deceiv’d by shows and forms!
Whate’er we think, whate’er we see,
All humankind are Worms.
Man is a very Worm by birth, 5
Vile reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.
That woman is a Worm we find,
E’er since our Grandam’s evil: 10
She first convers’d with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.
The learn’d themselves we Bookworms name,
The blockhead is a Slowworm;
The nymph whose tail is all on flame, 15
Is aptly term’d a Glowworm.
The fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day;
First from a Worm they take their rise,
And in a Worm decay. 20
The flatterer an Earwig grows;
Thus worms suit all conditions;
Misers are Muckworms; Silkworms, beaux;
And Deathwatches, physicians.
That statesmen have the worm, is seen 25
By all their winding play;
Their conscience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.
Ah, Moore, thy skill were well employ’d,
And greater gain would rise, 30
If thou couldst make the courtier void
The Worm that never dies!
O learned friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who sett’st our entrails free,
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain, 35
Since Worms shall eat ev’n thee.
Our fate thou only canst adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev’n Button’s Wits to Worms shall turn,
Who Maggots were before. 40
THE CURLL MISCELLANIES
CONTENTS
Umbra
Bishop Hough
Sandys’ Ghost
Epitaph
The Three Gentle Shepherds
On the Countess of Burlington Cutting Paper
Epigram: An Empty House
Umbra
Though speculation has connected several other persons with this poem, it is probably still another hit at the luckless Ambrose Philips. It, with the three following poems, was first published in the Miscellanies, 1727.
CLOSE to the best known author Umbra sits,
The constant index to old Button’s Wits.
‘Who ‘s here?’ cries Umbra. ‘Only Johnson.’—’O!
Your slave,’ and exit; but returns with Rowe.
‘Dear Rowe, let ‘s sit and talk of tragedies:’ 5
Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies.
Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his heel,
And in a moment fastens upon Steele;
But cries as soon, ‘Dear Dick, I must be gone,
For, if I know his tread, here ‘s Addison.’ 10
Says Addison to Steele, ‘‘T is time to go:’
Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe.
Poor Umbra, left in this abandon’d pickle,
Ev’n sits him down, and writes to honest Tickell.
Fool! ‘t is in vain from Wit to Wit to roam; 15
Know, Sense, like Charity, ‘begins at home.’
Bishop Hough
A BISHOP, by his neighbors hated,
Has cause to wish himself translated;
But why should Hough desire translation,
Loved and esteem’d by all the nation?
Yet if it be the old man’s case, 5
I ‘ll lay my life I know the place:
‘T is where God sent some that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.
Sandys’ Ghost
Or, a Proper New Ballad on the New Ovid’s Metamorphoses:
As It Was Intended to Be Translated by Persons of Quality
This refers to the translation undertaken by Sir Samuel Garth, which aimed to complete Dryden’s translation of Ovid, avoiding the rigidness of Sandys’ method. The enterprise was begun in 1718, when these verses were probably written.
YE Lords and Commons, men of wit
And pleasure about town,
Read this, ere you translate one bit
Of books of high renown.
Beware of Latin authors, all, 5
Nor think your verses sterling,
Tho’ with a golden pen you scrawl,
And scribble in a Berlin.
For not the desk with silver nails,
Nor bureau of expense, 10
Nor standish well japann’d, avails
To writing of good sense.
Hear how a Ghost in dead of night,
With saucer eyes of fire,
In woful wise did sore affright 15
A Wit and courtly Squire:
Rare imp of Phœbus, hopeful youth!
Like puppy tame, that uses
To fetch and carry in his mouth
The works of all the Muses. 20
Ah! why did he write poetry,
That hereto was so civil;
And sell his soul for vanity
To Rhyming and the Devil?
A desk he had of curious work, 25
With glitt’ring studs about;
Within the same did Sandys lurk,
Tho’ Ovid lay without.
Now, as he scratch’d to fetch up thought,
Forth popp’d the sprite so thin, 30
And from the keyhole bolted out,
All upright as a pin.
With whiskers, band, and pantaloon,
And ruff composed most duly,
This Squire he dropp’d his pen full soon, 35
While as the light burnt bluely.
Ho! master Sam, quoth Sandys’ sprite,
Write on, nor let me scare ye!
Forsooth, if rhymes fall not in right,
To Budgell seek or Carey. 40
I hear the beat of Jacob’s drums,
Poor Ovid finds no quarter!
See first the merry P[embroke] comes
In haste without his garter.
Then Lords and Lordlings, Squires and Knights, 45
Wits, Witlings, Prigs, and Peers:
Garth at St. James’s, and at White’s,
Beats up for volunteers.
What Fenton will not do, nor Gay,
Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan, 50
Tom B[urne]t, or Tom D’Urfey may,
John Dunton, Steele, or any one.
If Justice Philips’ costive head
Some frigid rhymes disburses,
They shall like Persian tales be read, 55
And glad both babes and nurses.
Let W[a]rw[ic]k’s Muse with Ash[urs]t join,
And Ozell’s with Lord Hervey’s,
Tickell and Addison combine,
And P[o]pe translate with Jervas. 60
L[ansdowne] himself, that lively lord,
Who bows to every lady,
Shall join with F[rowde] in one accord,
And be like Tate and Brady.
Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen; 65
I pray, where can the hurt lie?
Since you have brains as well as men,
As witness Lady Wortley.
Now, Tonson, list thy forces all,
Review them and tell noses; 70
For to poor Ovid shall befall
A strange metamorphosis;
A metamorphosis more strange
Than all his books can vapour —
‘To what (quoth ‘Squire) shall Ovid change?’ 75
Quoth Sandys, ‘To waste paper.’
Epitaph
Imitated from a Latin couplet on Joannes Mirandula: —
Joannes jacet hic Mirandula: cætera norunt
Et Tagus et Ganges — forsan et Antipodes.
First applied by Pope to Francis Chartres, but published in this form in 1727.
HERE lies Lord Coningsby — be civil!
The rest God knows — perhaps the Devil.
The Three Gentle Shepherds
OF gentle Philips will I ever sing,
With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring.
My numbers too for ever will I vary,
With gentle Budgell, and with gentle Carey.
Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill, 5
With gentle Carey and with gentle Budgell.
Oh! may all gentle bards together place ye,
Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy.
May Satire ne’er befool ye or beknave ye,
And from all Wits that have a knack, God save ye! 10
On the Countess of Burlington Cutting Paper
PALLAS grew vapourish once and odd;
She would not do the least right thing,
Either for Goddess or for God,
Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing.
Jove frown’d, and ‘Use (he cried) those eyes 5
So skilful, and those hands so taper;
Do something exquisite and wise—’
She bow’d, obey’d him, and cut paper.
This vexing him who gave her birth,
Thought by all Heav’n a burning shame, 10
What does she next, but bids, on earth,
Her Burlington do just the same.
Pallas, you give yourself strange airs;
But sure you ‘ll find it hard to spoil
The Sense and Taste of one that bears 15
The name of Saville and of Boyle.
Alas! one bad example shown,
How quickly all the sex pursue!
See, madam, see the arts o’erthrown
Between John Overton and you! 20
Epigram: An Empty House
YOU beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come:
Knock as you please, there ‘s nobody at home.
POEMS SUGGESTED BY GULLIVER
The famous satirical novel Gulliver’s Travels was first published in 1726, and later adapted in 1735. The book was immediately popular as soon as it appeared, with John Gay famously writing to Swift in 1726, “It is universally read, from the cabinet council to the nursery”. Although often considered a children’s story in modern times, Gulliver’s Travels was in fact a controversial and damning satire of Eighteenth century England.
It is uncertain exactly when Swift started writing Gulliver’s Travels, but some sources suggest as early as 1713, when Swift formed the Scriblerus Club with Gay, Pope, Arbuthnot and others, with the intention of satirising the popular literary genres of the time. It is known from Swift’s correspondence that the composition proper began in 1720 with Parts I and II written first, Part IV next in 1723 and Part III completed in 1724; but further changes were made even while Swift was writing Drapier’s Letters. By August 1725 the satire was complete. As Gulliver’s Travels was an explicitly anti-Whig work, it is likely that Swift had the manuscript copied so that his handwriting could not be used as evidence if a prosecution should be made against him, as had happened in the case of his Irish pamphlets.
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 26