Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  He said, and climb’d a stranded lighter’s height,

  Shot to the black abyss, and plunged downright.

  The senior’s judgment all the crowd admire,

  Who but to sink the deeper rose the higher. 290

  Next Smedley dived; slow circles dimpled o’er

  The quaking mud, that closed and oped no more.

  All look, all sigh, and call on Smedley lost;

  ‘Smedley!’ in vain resounds thro’ all the coast.

  Then [Hill] essay’d; scarce vanish’d out of sight, 295

  He buoys up instant, and returns to light;

  He bears no tokens of the sabler streams,

  And mounts far off among the swans of Thames.

  True to the bottom, see Concanen creep,

  A cold, long-winded native of the deep; 300

  If perseverance gain the diver’s prize,

  Not everlasting Blackmore this denies:

  No noise, no stir, no motion canst thou make;

  Th’ unconscious stream sleeps o’er thee like a lake.

  Next plunged a feeble, but a desp’rate pack, 305

  With each a sickly brother at his back:

  Sons of a Day! just buoyant on the flood,

  Then number’d with the puppies in the mud.

  Ask ye their names? I could as soon disclose

  The names of these blind puppies as of those. 310

  Fast by, like Niobe (her children gone),

  Sits mother Osborne, stupefied to stone!

  And monumental brass this record bears,

  ‘These are, ah no! these were the Gazetteers!’

  Not so bold Arnall; with a weight of skull 315

  Furious he dives, precipitately dull.

  Whirlpools and storms his circling arms invest,

  With all the might of gravitation blest.

  No crab more active in the dirty dance,

  Downward to climb, and backward to advance, 320

  He brings up half the bottom on his head,

  And loudly claims the Journals and the Lead.

  The plunging Prelate, and his pond’rous Grace,

  With holy envy gave one layman place.

  When lo! a burst of thunder shook the flood, 325

  Slow rose a form in majesty of mud;

  Shaking the horrors of his sable brows,

  And each ferocious feature grim with ooze.

  Greater he looks, and more than mortal stares;

  Then thus the wonders of the deep declares. 330

  First he relates how, sinking to the chin,

  Smit with his mien, the mud-nymphs suck’d him in;

  How young Lutetia, softer than the down,

  Nigrina black, and Merdamante brown,

  Vied for his love in jetty bowers below, 335

  As Hylas fair was ravish’d long ago.

  Then sung, how shown him by the nut-brown maids

  A branch of Styx here rises from the shades,

  That tinctured as it runs with Lethe’s streams,

  And wafting vapours from the land of dreams 340

  (As under seas Alpheus’ secret sluice

  Bears Pisa’s offering to his Arethuse),

  Pours into Thames; and hence the mingled wave

  Intoxicates the pert, and lulls the grave:

  Here, brisker vapours o’er the Temple creep; 345

  There, all from Paul’s to Algate drink and sleep.

  Thence to the banks where rev’rend bards repose

  They led him soft; each rev’rend bard arose;

  And Milbourn chief, deputed by the rest,

  Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest. 350

  ‘Receive (he said) these robes which once were mine;

  Dulness is sacred in a sound divine.’

  He ceas’d, and spread the robe; the crowd confess

  The rev’rend flamen in his lengthen’d dress.

  Around him wide a sable army stand, 355

  A low-born, cell-bred, selfish, servile band,

  Prompt or to guard or stab, or saint or damn,

  Heav’n’s Swiss, who fight for any God or Man.

  Thro’ Lud’s famed gates, along the well-known Fleet,

  Rolls the black troop, and overshades the street, 360

  Till showers of Sermons, Characters, Essays,

  In circling fleeces whiten all the ways.

  So clouds replenish’d from some bog below,

  Mount in dark volumes, and descend in snow.

  Here stopt the Goddess; and in pomp proclaims 365

  A gentler exercise to close the games.

  ‘Ye Critics! in whose heads, as equal scales,

  I weigh what author’s heaviness prevails;

  Which most conduce to soothe the soul in slumbers,

  My Henley’s periods, or my Blackmore’s numbers; 370

  Attend the trial we propose to make:

  If there be man who o’er such works can wake,

  Sleep’s all subduing charms who dares defy,

  And boasts Ulysses’ ear with Argus’ eye;

  To him we grant our amplest powers to sit 375

  Judge of all present, past, and future wit;

  To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong,

  Full and eternal privilege of tongue.’

  Three college Sophs, and three pert Templars came,

  The same their talents, and their tastes the same! 380

  Each prompt to query, answer, and debate,

  And smit with love of Poesy and Prate.

  The pond’rous books two gentle readers bring;

  The heroes sit, the vulgar form a ring;

  The clam’rous crowd is hush’d with mugs of mum, 385

  Till all tuned equal send a gen’ral hum.

  Then mount the clerks, and in one lazy tone

  Thro’ the long, heavy, painful page drawl on;

  Soft creeping words on words the sense compose,

  At ev’ry line they stretch, they yawn, they doze. 390

  As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low

  Their heads, and lift them as they cease to blow,

  Thus oft they rear, and oft the head decline,

  As breathe, or pause, by fits, the airs divine;

  And now to this side, now to that they nod, 395

  As verse, or prose, infuse the drowsy God.

  Thrice Budgell aim’d to speak, but thrice supprest

  By potent Arthur, knock’d his chin and breast.

  Toland and Tindal, prompt at priests to jeer,

  Yet silent bow’d to ‘Christ’s no kingdom here.’ 400

  Who sat the nearest, by the words o’ercome,

  Slept first; the distant nodded to the hum,

  Then down are roll’d the books; stretch’d o’er ‘em lies

  Each gentle clerk, and mutt’ring seals his eyes.

  As what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes, 405

  One circle first and then a second makes,

  What Dulness dropt among her sons imprest

  Like motion from one circle to the rest:

  So from the midmost the nutation spreads,

  Round and more round, o’er all the sea of heads. 410

  At last Centlivre felt her voice to fail;

  Motteux himself unfinish’d left his tale;

  Boyer the state, and Law the stage gave o’er;

  Morgan and Mandeville could prate no more;

  Norton, from Daniel and Ostrœa sprung, 415

  Bless’d with his father’s front and mother’s tongue,

  Hung silent down his never-blushing head,

  And all was hush’d, as Folly’s self lay dead.

  Thus the soft gifts of sleep conclude the day,

  And stretch’d on bulks, as usual Poets lay. 420

  Why should I sing what bards the nightly Muse

  Did slumb’ring visit, and convey to stews?

  Who prouder march’d, with magistrates in state,

  To some famed roundhouse, ever-open
gate?

  How Henley lay inspired beside a sink, 425

  And to mere mortals seem’d a priest in drink,

  While others, timely, to the neighb’ring Fleet

  (Haunt of the Muses) made their safe retreat?

  NEW DUNCIAD. BOOK III

  ARGUMENT

  After the other persons are disposed in their proper places of rest, the Goddess transports the King to her Temple, and there lays him to slumber with his head on her lap; a position of marvellous virtue, which causes all the visions of wild enthusiasts, projectors, politicians, inamoratos, castle-builders, chymists, and poets. He is immediately carried on the wings of Fancy, and led by a mad poetical Sibyl, to the Elysian shade; where, on the banks of Lethe, the souls of the dull are dipped by Bavius, before their entrance into this world. There he is met by the ghost of Settle, and by him made acquainted with the wonders of the place, and with those which he himself is destined to perform. He takes him to a Mount of Vision, from whence he shows him the past triumphs of the Empire of Dulness; then, the present; and, lastly, the future: how small a part of the world was ever conquered by Science, how soon those conquests were stopped, and these very nations again reduced to her dominion. Then distinguishing the island of Great Britain, shows by what aids, by what persons, and by what degrees, it shall be brought to her empire. Some of the persons he causes to pass in review before his eyes, describing each by his proper figure, character, and qualifications. On a sudden the scene shifts, and a vast number of miracles and prodigies appear, utterly surprising and unknown to the King himself, till they are explained to be the wonders of his own reign now commencing. On this subject Settle breaks into a congratulation, yet not unmixed with concern, that his own times were but the types of these. He prophesies how first the nation shall be overrun with Farces, Operas, and Shows; how the throne of Dulness shall be advanced over the Theatres, and set up even at Court; then how her sons shall preside in the seats of Arts and Sciences; giving a glimpse, or Pisgah-sight, of the future fulness of her glory, the accomplishment whereof is the subject of the fourth and last book.

  BUT in her temple’s last recess inclosed,

  On Dulness’ lap th’ anointed head reposed.

  Him close she curtains round with vapours blue,

  And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew:

  Then raptures high the seat of Sense o’erflow, 5

  Which only heads refin’d from Reason know.

  Hence from the straw where Bedlam’s prophet nods,

  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, 10

  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 descending views th’ Elysian shade.

  A slipshod Sibyl led his steps along, 15

  In lofty madness meditating song;

  Her tresses staring from poetic dreams,

  And never wash’d but in Castalia’s streams.

  Taylor, their better Charon, lends an oar

  (Once swan of Thames, tho’ now he sings no more); 20

  Benlowes, propitious still to blockheads, bows;

  And Shadwell nods, the poppy on his brows.

  Here in a dusky vale, where Lethe rolls,

  Old Bavius sits to dip poetic souls,

  And blunt the sense, and fit it for a skull 25

  Of solid proof, impenetrably dull.

  Instant, when dipt, away they wing their flight,

  Where Browne and Mears unbar the gates of light,

  Demand new bodies, and in calf’s array

  Rush to the world, impatient for the day. 30

  Millions and millions on these banks he views,

  Thick as the stars of night or morning dews,

  As thick as bees o’er vernal blossoms fly,

  As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory.

  Wond’ring he gazed: when, lo! a Sage appears, 35

  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. 40

  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!

  Thou, yet unborn, hast touch’d this sacred shore; 45

  The hand of Bavius drench’d thee o’er and o’er.

  But blind to former as to future fate,

  What mortal knows his preëxistent state?

  Who knows how long thy transmigrating soul

  Might from Bœotian to Bœotian roll? 50

  How many Dutchmen she vouchsafed 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 mæanders to the vital spring 55

  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 centre, from thee circulate. 60

  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, 65

  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 70

  (Earth’s wide extremes), her sable flag display’d,

  And all the nations cover’d in her shade!

  ‘Far eastward cast thine eye, from whence the sun

  And orient Science their bright course begun:

  One godlike monarch all that pride confounds, 75

  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; 80

  From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll,

  And lick up all their physic of the soul.

  ‘How little, mark! that portion of the ball,

  Where, faint at best, the beams of Science fall:

  Soon as they dawn, from hyperborean skies 85

  Embodied dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!

  Lo! where Mæotis 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! 90

  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 95

  (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! 100

  ‘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, beholds her Livy burn, 105

  And ev’n th’ Antipodes Virgilius mourn.

  See the Cirque falls, th’ unpillar’d Temple nods,

  Streets paved with Heroes, Tiber choked with Gods;

  Till Peter’s keys some christen’d Jove adorn,

  And Pan to Moses lends his Pagan horn. 110

  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,

  Peel’d, patch’d, and piebald, linsey-woolsey brothers, 115

  Grave Mummers! sleeveless some and shirtless others.

  That once was Britain — Happy! had she seen

  No fiercer sons, had Easter never been.

  In peace, great Goddess, ever be ador’d;

  How keen the war, if Dulness draw the sword! 120

  Thus visit not thy own! on this bless’d age

  O 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, 125

  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. 130

  As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie

  In homage to the mother of the sky,

  Surveys around her, in the bless’d abode,

  A hundred sons, and every son a God,

  Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown’d, 135

  Shall take thro’ Grub-street 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 place,

  And thrusts his person full into your face. 140

  With all thy father’s virtues bless’d, 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, 145

  Another Durfey, Ward! shall sing in thee.

  Thee shall each alehouse, thee each gill-house mourn,

  And answering ginshops sourer sighs return.

  ‘Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with awe;

  Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law. 150

  Lo Popple’s brow, tremendous to the town,