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Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

Page 59

by Alexander Pope


  Now prostrate! dead! behold that Caroline:

  No maid cries, “Charming!” and no youth, “Divine!”

  And lo, the wretch! whose vile, whose insect lust 415

  Laid this gay daughter of the spring in dust.

  O punish him, or to th’ Elysian shades

  Dismiss my soul, where no Carnation fades.’

  He ceas’d, and wept. With innocence of mien

  Th’ accused stood forth, and thus address’d the Queen: 420

  ‘Of all th’ enamell’d race, whose silv’ry wing

  Waves to the tepid zephyrs of the spring,

  Or swims along the fluid atmosphere,

  Once brightest shined this child of Heat and Air.

  I saw, and started from its vernal bower 425

  The rising game, and chased from flower to flower.

  It fled, I follow’d; now in hope, now pain;

  It stopt, I stopt; it mov’d, I mov’d again.

  At last it fix’d,’t was on what plant it pleas’d,

  And where it fix’d the beauteous bird I seiz’d: 430

  Rose or Carnation was below my care;

  I meddle, Goddess! only in my sphere.

  I tell the naked fact without disguise,

  And, to excuse it, need but show the prize;

  Whose spoils this paper offers to your eye, 435

  Fair ev’n in death, this peerless butterfly!’

  ‘My sons! (she answer’d) both have done your parts:

  Live happy both, and long promote our Arts.

  But hear a mother when she recommends

  To your fraternal care our sleeping friends. 440

  The common soul, of Heav’n’s more frugal make,

  Serves but to keep Fools pert, and Knaves awake;

  A drowsy watchman, that just gives a knock,

  And breaks our rest, to tell us what ‘s o’clock.

  Yet by some object ev’ry brain is stirr’d; 445

  The dull may waken to a Humming-bird;

  The most recluse, discreetly open’d, find

  Congenial matter in the Cockle king;

  The mind, in metaphysics at a loss,

  May wander in a wilderness of Moss; 450

  The head that turns at superlunar things

  Pois’d with a tail, may steer on Wilkins’ wings.

  ‘O! would the sons of men once think their eyes

  And Reason giv’n them but to study flies!

  See Nature in some partial narrow shape, 455

  And let the Author of the whole escape:

  Learn but to trifle; or, who most observe,

  To wonder at their Maker, not to serve!’

  ‘Be that my task (replies a gloomy Clerk,

  Sworn foe to myst’ry, yet divinely dark; 460

  Whose pious hope aspires to see the day

  When moral evidence shall quite decay,

  And damns implicit faith, and holy lies;

  Prompt to impose, and fond to dogmatize):

  Let others creep by timid steps, and slow, 465

  On plain Experience lay foundations low,

  By common sense to common knowledge bred,

  And last, to Nature’s Cause thro’ Nature led.

  All-seeing in thy mists, we want no guide,

  Mother of Arrogance, and source of pride! 470

  We nobly take the high priori road,

  And reason downward, till we doubt of God:

  Make Nature still encroach upon his plan,

  And shove him off as far as e’er we can:

  Thrust some Mechanic Cause into his place, 475

  Or bind in Matter, or diffuse in Space:

  Or, at one bound o’erleaping all his laws,

  Make God man’s image; man, the final Cause;

  Find Virtue local, all Relation scorn,

  See all in self, and but for self be born: 480

  Of nought so certain as our Reason still,

  Of nought so doubtful as of Soul and Will.

  O hide the God still more! and make us see

  Such as Lucretius drew, a God like thee:

  Wrapt up in self, a God without a thought, 485

  Regardless of our merit or default.

  Or that bright image to our fancy draw,

  Which Theocles in raptured vision saw,

  While thro’ poetic scenes the Genius roves,

  Or wanders wild in academic groves; 490

  That Nature our society adores,

  Where Tindal dictates, and Silenus snores!’

  Rous’d at his name, up rose the bousy Sire,

  And shook from out his pipe the seeds of fire;

  Then snapt his box, and stroked his belly down; 495

  Rosy and rev’rend, tho’ without a gown.

  Bland and familiar to the Throne he came,

  Led up the youth, and call’d the Goddess Dame;

  Then thus: ‘From priestcraft happily set free,

  Lo! every finish’d son returns to thee: 500

  First slave to Words, then vassal to a Name,

  Then dupe to Party; child and man the same;

  Bounded by Nature, narrow’d still by Art,

  A trifling head, and a contracted heart.

  Thus bred, thus taught, how many have I seen, 505

  Smiling on all, and smil’d on by a Queen!

  Mark’d out for honours, honour’d for their birth,

  To thee the most rebellious things on earth:

  Now to thy gentle shadow all are shrunk,

  All melted down in Pension or in Punk! 510

  So K[ent] so B —— sneak’d into the grave,

  A monarch’s half, and half a harlot’s slave.

  Poor W[harton] nipt in Folly’s broadest bloom,

  Who praises now? his chaplain on his tomb.

  Then take them all, O take them to thy breast! 515

  Thy Magus, Goddess! shall perform the rest.’

  With that a wizard old his Cup extends,

  Which whoso tastes, forgets his former Friends,

  Sire, Ancestors, Himself. One casts his eyes

  Up to a star, and like Endymion dies: 520

  A feather, shooting from another’s head,

  Extracts his brain, and Principle is fled;

  Lost is his God, his Country, everything,

  And nothing left but homage to a King!

  The vulgar herd turn off to roll with hogs, 525

  To run with horses, or to hunt with dogs;

  But, sad example! never to escape

  Their infamy, still keep the human shape.

  But she, good Goddess, sent to every child

  Firm Impudence, or Stupefaction mild; 530

  And straight succeeded, leaving shame no room,

  Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom.

  Kind Self-conceit to some her glass applies,

  Which no one looks in with another’s eyes:

  But as the Flatt’rer or Dependant paint, 535

  Beholds himself a Patriot, Chief, or Saint.

  On others Int’rest her gay liv’ry flings,

  Int’rest, that waves on party-colour’d wings:

  Turn’d to the sun, she casts a thousand dyes,

  And, as she turns, the colours fall or rise. 540

  Others the Syren Sisters warble round,

  And empty heads console with empty sound.

  No more, alas! the voice of Fame they hear,

  The balm of Dulness trickling in their ear.

  Great C — , H — , P — , R — , K — , 545

  Why all your toils? your sons have learn’d to sing.

  How quick Ambition hastes to Ridicule:

  The sire is made a Peer, the son a Fool.

  On some, a priest succinct in amice white

  Attends; all flesh is nothing in his sight! 550

  Beeves, at his touch, at once to jelly turn,

  And the huge boar is shrunk into an urn:

  The board with specious Miracles he loads,
<
br />   Turns hares to larks, and pigeons into toads.

  Another (for in all what one can shine?) 555

  Explains the sève and verdeur of the Vine.

  What cannot copious sacrifice atone?

  Thy truffles, Périgord, thy hams, Bayonne,

  With French libation, and Italian strain,

  Wash Bladen white, and expiate Hays’s stain, 560

  Knight lifts the head; for, what are crowds undone,

  To three essential partridges in one?

  Gone ev’ry blush, and silent all reproach,

  Contending Princes mount them in their coach.

  Next bidding all draw near on bended knees, 565

  The Queen confers her Titles and Degrees.

  Her children first of more distinguish’d sort,

  Who study Shakespeare at the Inns of Court,

  Impale a glow-worm, or Vertù profess,

  Shine in the dignity of F. R. S. 570

  Some, deep Freemasons, join the silent race,

  Worthy to fill Pythagoras’s place:

  Some Botanists, or florists at the least,

  Or issue members of an annual feast.

  Nor past the meanest unregarded; one 575

  Rose a Gregorian, one a Gormogon.

  The last, not least in honour or applause,

  Isis and Cam made Doctors of her Laws.

  Then, blessing all, ‘Go children of my care!

  To practice now from theory repair. 580

  All my commands are easy, short and full:

  My sons! be proud, be selfish, and be dull.

  Guard my Prerogative, assert my Throne:

  This nod confirms each privilege your own.

  The cap and switch be sacred to His Grace; 585

  With staff and pumps the Marquis leads the race;

  From stage to stage the licens’d Earl may run,

  Pair’d with his fellow charioteer, the sun;

  The learned Baron butterflies design,

  Or draw to silk Arachne’s subtle line; 590

  The Judge to dance his brother sergeant call;

  The Senator at cricket urge the ball:

  The Bishop stow (pontific luxury!)

  A hundred souls of turkeys in a pie;

  The sturdy Squire to Gallic masters stoop, 595

  And drown his lands and manors in a soup.

  Others import yet nobler arts from France,

  Teach Kings to fiddle, and make Senates dance.

  Perhaps more high some daring son may soar,

  Proud to my list to add one monarch more; 600

  And nobly-conscious, Princes are but things

  Born for first Ministers, as slaves for Kings,

  Tyrant supreme! shall three estates command,

  And make one mighty Dunciad of the land!’

  More she had spoke, but yawn’d — All nature nods: 605

  What mortal can resist the yawn of Gods?

  Churches and chapels instantly it reach’d

  (St. James’s first, for leaden Gilbert preach’d);

  Then catch’d the Schools; the Hall scarce kept awake;

  The Convocation gaped, but could not speak. 610

  Lost was the Nation’s sense, nor could be found,

  While the long solemn unison went round:

  Wide, and more wide, it spread o’er all the realm;

  Ev’n Palinurus nodded at the helm:

  The vapour mild o’er each committee crept; 615

  Unfinish’d treaties in each office slept;

  And chiefless armies dozed out the campaign;

  And navies yawn’d for orders on the main.

  O Muse! relate (for you can tell alone,

  Wits have short memories, and Dunces none), 620

  Relate who first, who last, resign’d to rest;

  Whose heads she partly, whose completely blest;

  What charms could Faction, what Ambition lull,

  The venal quiet, and entrance the dull,

  Till drown’d was Sense, and Shame, and Right, and Wrong; 625

  O sing, and hush the nations with thy song!

  . . . . .

  In vain, in vain — the all-composing hour

  Resistless falls; the Muse obeys the power.

  She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold

  Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old! 630

  Before her Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,

  And all its varying rainbows die away.

  Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,

  The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.

  As one by one, at dread Medea’s strain, 635

  The sick’ning stars fade off th’ ethereal plain;

  As Argus’ eyes, by Hermes’ wand opprest,

  Closed one by one to everlasting rest;

  Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,

  Art after Art goes out, and all is night. 640

  See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,

  Mountains of casuistry heap’d o’er her head!

  Philosophy, that lean’d on Heaven before,

  Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.

  Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, 645

  And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!

  See Mystery to Mathematics fly!

  In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.

  Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,

  And unawares Morality expires. 650

  Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;

  Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!

  Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor’d;

  Light dies before thy uncreating word:

  Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; 655

  And universal Darkness buries all.

  THE ILIAD

  The Iliad is an epic poem in dactylic hexameters, traditionally attributed to Homer. Set in the Trojan War, the ten-year siege of the city of Troy (Ilium) by an alliance of Greek states, it tells of the battles and events during the weeks of a quarrel between King Agamemnon and the warrior Achilles. Although the story covers only a few weeks in the final year of the war, the Iliad mentions or alludes to many of the Greek legends about the siege. Along with the Odyssey, also attributed to Homer, the Iliad is among the oldest extant works of Western literature, and its written version is usually dated to around the eighth century BC. The epic poem contains over 15,000 lines and is often considered to be the ‘beginning’ of fine literature.

  Pope had been fascinated by Homer’s works since childhood and in 1713 he announced his plans to publish a translation of the Iliad, which would be available by subscription, with one volume appearing every year over the course of six years. The poet secured a revolutionary deal with the publisher Bernard Lintot, which brought him two hundred guineas for each volume, at that time a vast sum of money. The translation appeared between 1715 and 1720. Acclaimed by Samuel Johnson as “a performance which no age or nation could hope to equal”, the poem was criticised by more sober classicists, who, though they admired its poetic ability (in English), complained it was not in truth Homer.

  Achilles tending the wounded Patroclus

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  To aid reading The Iliad, a list of the principle characters is provided here. It may be useful to create a bookmark of this page if it is your first time reading this complex work.

  Achaeans (also called Greeks, Danaans and Argives)

  Agamemnon — King of Mycenae and Overlord of the Greeks.

  Achilles — Leader of the Myrmidons, half-divine war hero.

  Odysseus — King of Ithaca, the wiliest Greek commander and hero of the Odyssey.

  Aias (Ajax the Greater) — son of Telamon, with Diomedes, he is second to Achilles in martial prowess.

  Menelaus — King of Sparta, husband of Helen and brother of Agamemnon.

  Diomedes — son of Tydeus, King of Argos.

  Aias (Ajax the Lesser) — son of Oileus, often partn
er of Ajax the Greater.

  Patroclus - Achilles’ closest companion.

  Nestor - King of Pylos.

  Trojans

  Hector — son of King Priam and the foremost Trojan warrior.

  Aeneas — son of Anchises and Aphrodite.

  Deiphobus — brother of Hector and Paris.

  Paris — Helen’s lover-abductor.

  Priam — the aged King of Troy.

  Polydamas — a prudent commander whose advice is ignored; he is Hector’s foil.

  Agenor — a Trojan warrior who attempts to fight Achilles (Book XXI).

  Sarpedon, son of Zeus — killed by Patroclus. Was friend of Glaucus & co-leader of the Lycians (fought for the Trojans).

  Glaucus, son of Hippolochus — friend of Sarpedon and co-leader of the Lycians (fought for the Trojans).

  Euphorbus — first Trojan warrior to wound Patroclus.

  Dolon (Δόλων) — a spy upon the Greek camp (Book X).

  Antenor — King Priam’s advisor, who argues for returning Helen to end the war. Paris refuses.

  Polydorus — son of Priam and Laothoe.

  Pandarus — famous archer and son of Lycaon.

  The Trojan women

  Hecuba (Ἑκάβη) — Priam’s wife, mother of Hector, Cassandra, Paris, and others.

  Helen (Ἑλένη) — Menelaus’s wife; espoused first to Paris, then to Deiphobus; her abduction by Paris precipitated the war.

  Andromache (Ἀνδρομάχη) — Hector’s wife, mother of Astyanax (Ἀστυάναξ).

  Cassandra (Κασσάνδρα) — Priam’s daughter; courted by Apollo, who bestows the gift of prophecy to her; upon her rejection, he curses her, and her warnings of Trojan doom go unheeded.

  Briseis — a Trojan woman captured by the Greeks; she was Achilles’ prize of the Trojan war.

  The Wrath of Achilles (1819), by Michel Drolling

  Also available:

  Delphi’s edition of Homer provides multiple translations of the Iliad, the Odyssey and all of the surviving fragments and spurious works, as well as the original Greek texts and a treasure trove of bonus material. Including scholarly translations that originally appeared in the Loeb Classical Library, the Delphi Homer is the most authoritative digital edition available.

  www.delphiclassics.com

  CONTENTS

  Iliad Book I. The Contention of Achilles and Agamemnon

  Iliad Book II. The Trial of the Army and Catalogue of the Forces

  Iliad Book III. The Duel of Menelaus and Paris

  Iliad Book IV. The Breach of the Truce, and the First Battle

 

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