(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.
Now mayors and shrieves all hush'd and satiate lay,
Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day;
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.
Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls
What city swans once sung within the walls;
Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,
And sure succession down from Heywood's days.
She saw with joy the line immortal run,
Each sire imprest and glaring in his son;
So watchful Bruin forms with plastic care
Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear.
She saw old Pryn in restless Daniel shine,
And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless line;
She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page,
And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.

In each she marks her image full exprest,
But chief, in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast;
Sees gods with demons in strange league engage,
And Earth, and Heav'n, and Hell, her battles wage.
She ey'd the bard, where supperles he sate,
And pin'd, unconscious of his rising fate;
Studious he sate, with all his books around,
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!
Plung'd for his sense, but found no bottom there;
Then writ, and flounder'd on, in mere despair.
He roll'd his eyes that witness'd huge dismay,
Where yet unpawn'd, much learned lumber lay:
Volumes, whose size the space exactly fill'd,
Or which fond authors were so good to gild,
Or where, by sculpture made for ever known
The page admires new beauties, not its own.
Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great:
There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines com.
Here all his suff ring brotherhood retire,
And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire;
A Gothic Vatican! of Greece and Rome
Well purg'd, and worthy Withers, Quarles, and
Blome.

[plete:

But high above, more solid learning shone, The classics of an age that heard of none; There Caxton slept, with Wynkin at his side, One clasp'd in wood, and one in strong cow-hide, There sav'd by spice, like mummies, many a year, Old bodies of philosophy appear: De Lyra there a dreadful front extends, And here, the groaning shelves Philemon bends. Of these, twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size, Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pyes, Inspir'd he seizes: these an altar raise : An hecatomb of pure, unsully'd lays That altar growns: a folio common-place Rounds the whole pyle, of all his works the base; Quartos, octavos, hape the less'ning pyre; And last, a little Ajax tips the spire.

Then hc. "Great tamer of all human art! First in my care, and nearest at my heart: Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end! O thou, of business the directing soul, To human heads like biass to the bowl,

And, lest we err by wit's wild, dancing light,
Secure us kindly in our native night.
Ah! still o'er Britain stretch that peaceful wand,
Which Julls th' Helvetian and Patavian land;
Where rebel to thy throne if Science rise,
She does but show her coward face and dies;
There, thy good scholiasts with unweary'd pains
Make Horace flat, and humble Maro's strains :
Here studious I unlucky moderns save,
Nor sleeps one errour in its father's grave,
Old puns restore, lost blunders nicely seek,
And crucify poor Shakespear once a week.
For thee I dim these eyes, and stuff this head,
With all such reading as was never read;
For thee supplying, in the worst of days,
Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays;
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it, goddess, and about it;
So spins the silk-worm small its slender store,
And labours, till it clouds itself all o'er.
Not that my quill to critiques was confin'd,
My verse gave ampler lessons to mankind;
So gravest precepts may successless prove,
But sad examples never fail to move.
As forc'd from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
And pond'rous slugs cut swiftly thro' the sky:
As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe,
The wheels above urg'd by the load below;
Me, Emptiness and Dulness could inspire,
And were my elasticity and fire.

Had Heav'n decreed such works a longer date,
Heav'n had decreed to spare the Grubstreet-state.
But see great Settle to the dust descend,
And all thy cause and empire at an end!
Cou'd Troy be sav'd by any single hand,

His grey-goose weapon must have made her stand.
But what can I? my Flaccus cast aside,
Take up th' attorney's (once my better) guide?
Or rob the Roman geese of all their glories,
And save the state by cackling to the Tories?
Yes, to my country I my pen consign,
Yes, from this moment, mighty Mist! am thine,
And rival, Curtius! of thy fame and zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the public weal.
Adieu, my children! better thus expire
Unstall'd, unsold, thus glorious mount in fire
Fair without spot; than greas'd by grocer's hands,
Or ship'd with Ward to Ape-and-monkey lands,
Or wafting ginger, round the streets to go,
And visit alehouse where ye first did grow."

With that he lifted thrice the sparkling brand,
And thrice he dropt it from his quiv'ring hand:
Then lights the structure, with averted eyes;
The rowling smokes involve the sacrifice,
The opening clouds disclose each work by turns,
Now flames old Memnon, now Rodrigo burns,
In one quick flash see Proserpine expire,
And last, his own cold Eschylus took fire.
Then gush'd the tears, as from the Trojan's eyes
When the last blaze sent Ilion to the skies.

Rouz'd by the light, old Dulness heav'd the

head;

Obliquely waddling to the mark in view.
O ever gracious to perplex'd mankind!
Who spread a healing mist before the mind,

Great in her charms! as when on shrieves and

With me began this genius, and shall end."
He spoke, and who with tot shall contend!
Fear held them mute. Alone untaught to fear
Stood dauntless Curl, "Behold that rival here!
The race by vigour, not by vaunts is won;
So take the hindmost, Hell!"- He said and run.
Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind,
He left huge Lintot, and out-stripp'd the wind.
As when a dab-chick waddles thro' the copse,
On feet, and wings, and flies, and wades, and
hops;

So lab'ring on, with shoulders, hands, and head,
Wide as a windmill all his figure spread,
With legs expanded Bernard urg'd the race,
And seem'd to emulate great Jacob's pace.
Full in the middle way there stood a lake,
Which Curl's Corinna chane'd that morn to make:
(Such was her won't, at early dawn to drop
Her evening cates before his neighbour's shop,)
Here fortun'd Curl to slide; loud shout the band,
And Bernard! Bernard! rings thro' all the Strand.
Obscene with filth the miscreant lies bewrayed,
Fall'n in the plash his wickedness had laid :
Then first (if poets aught of truth declare)
The caitiff vaticide conceiv'd a prayer.
Hear, Jove! whose name my bards and I adore,
As much at least as any god's, or more;
And him and his if more devotion warms,
Down with the Bible, up with the Pope's Arms.

A place there is, betwixt earth, air, and seas, Where from Ambrosia, Jove retires for case. There in his seat two spacious vents appear, On this he sits, to that he leans his ear, And hears the various vows of fond mankind, Some beg an eastern, some a western wind: All vain petitions, mounting to the sky, With reams abundant this abode supply; Amus'd he reads, and then returns the bills Sign'd with that ichor which from Gods distils. In office here fair Cloacina stands, And ministers to Jove with purest hands; Forth from the heap she pick'd her vot'ry's pray'r, And plac'd it next him, a distinction rare! (Oft, as he fish'd her nether realms for wit, The goddess favour'd him, and favours yet) Renew'd by ordure's sympathetic force, As oil'd with magie juices for the course, Vig'rous he rises, from th' effluvia strong Imbibes new life, and scours and stinks along: Re-passes Lintot, vindicates the race, Nor heeds the brown dishonours of his face.

And now the victor stretch'd his cager hand Where the tall nothing stood, or seem'd to stand; A shapeless shade, it melted from his sight, Like forms in clouds, or visions of the night! To seize his papers, Curl, was next thy care; His papers light, fly diverse, tost in air: Songs, sonnets, epigrams the winds uplift, And whisk 'em back to Evans, Younge, and Swift. Th' embroider'd suit, at least, he deem'd his prey; That suit, an unpay'd taylor snatch'd away No rag, no scrap, of all the beau or wit, That once so flutter'd, and that once so writ. Heaven rings with laughter: of the laughter vain,

Dulness, good queen, repeats the jest again. Three wicked imps of her own Grub-street choir, She deck'd like Congreve, Addison, and Prior; Mears, Warner, Wilkins run: delusive thought! Breval, Besaleel, Bond, the varlets caught.

Curl stretches after Gay, but Gay is gone,
He grasps an empty Joseph for a John:
So Proteus, hunted in a nobler shape,
Became; when seiz'd, a puppy, or an ape.

To him the goddess. "Son! thy grief lay down,
And turn this whole illusion on the town.
As the sage dame, experienc'd in her trade,
By names of toasts retails each batter'd jade,
(Whence hapless Monsieur much complains at
Paris

Of wrongs from Duchesses and Lady Marys)
Be thine, my stationer! this magic gift;
Cook shall be Prior, and Concanen, Swift:
So shall each hostile name become our own,
And we too boast our Garth and Addison."

With that, she gave him (piteous of his case,
Yet smiling at his rueful length of face)
A shaggy tap'stry, worthy to be spread
On Codrus' old, or Dunton's modern bed;
Instructive work! whose wry-mouth'd portraiture
Display'd the fates her confessors endure.
Earless on high, stood unabash'd Defoe,
And Tuchin flagrant from the scourge, below:
There Ridpath, Roper, cudgell'd might ye view,
The very worsted still look'd black and blue:
Himself among the storied chiefs he spies,
As from the blanket high in air he flies,
"And oh!" (he cry'd) "what street, what lane but
Our purgings, pumpings, blanketings, and blows?
In ev'ry loom our labours shall be seen,
And the fresh vomit run for ever green!"

[knows

See in the circle next, Eliza plac'd,
Two babes of love close clinging to her waist;
Fair as before her works she stands confess'd,

In flow'rs and pearls by bounteous Kirkall dress'd.
The goddess then: "Who best can send on high
The salient spout, far-streaming to the sky :
His be yon Juno of majestic size,
With cow-like udders, and with ox-like eyes.
This China jordan, let the chief o'ercome
Replenish, not ingloriously, at home."

Chapman and Curl accept the glorious strife,
(Tho' one his son dissuades, and one his wife)
This on his manly confidence relies,
That on his vigour and superior size.
First Chapman lean'd against his letter'd post ;
It rose, and labour'd to a curve at most.
So Jove's bright bow displays its wat'ry round,
(Sure sign, that no spectator shall be drown'd)
A second effort brought but new disgrace,
The wild meander wash'd the artist's face:
Thus the small jet which hasty hands unlock,
Spirts in the gard'ner's eyes who turns the cock
Not so from shameless Curl; impetuous spread
The stream, and sinoaking, flourish'd o'er his
head.

So, (fam'd like thee for turbulence and horns,)
Eridanus his humble fountain scorns ;
Thro' half the heaven's he pours th' exalted urn;
His rapid waters in their passage burn.

Swift as it mounts, all follow with their eyes;
Still happy impudence obtains the prize.
Thou triumph'st, victor of the high-wrought day,
And the pleas'd dame, soft-smiling, leadst away.
Chapman, thro' perfect modesty o'ercome,
Crown'd with the jordan, walks contented home.
But now for authors, nobler palms remain;
Room for my lord! three jockeys in his train:
Six huntsmen with a shout precede his chair;
He grins, and looks broad nonsense with a stare.

Taylor, sweet swan of Thames, majestic bows,
And Shadwell nods the poppy on his brows;
While Milbourn there, deputed by the rest,
Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest;
And "Take" (he said) "these robes which once
were mine,

Dulness is sacred in a sound divine."

He ceas'd, and show'd the robe; the crowd
confess

The rev'rend flamen in his lengthen'd dress.
Slow moves the goddess from the sable flood,
(Her priest preceding) thro' the gates of Lud.
Her critics there she summons, and proclaims
A gentler exercise to close the games.

66

Here you! in whose grave heads, as equal scales,
I weigh what author's heaviness prevails;
Which most conduce to sooth the soul in slumbers,
My Henley's periods, or my Blackmore's numbers?
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 pow'rs to sit
Judge of all present, past, and future wit,
To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong,
Full, and eternal privilege of tongue."

[came,
Three Cambridge sophs and three pert Templars
The same their talents, and their tastes the same,
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 bush'd with mugs of mum,
Till all tun'd 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.
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,
As verse, or prose, infuse the drowzy god.
Thrice Budgel 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.
Who sate 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
Each gentle clerk, and mutt'ring seals his eyes.
As what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes,
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 mid-most the nutation spreads
Round, and more round, o'er all the sea of heads.
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,
Nor Kelsey talk'd, nor Naso whisper'd more;
Norton, from Daniel and Ostræa sprung,
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.

[lies

Thus the soft gifts of sleep conclude the day, And stretch'd on bulks, as usual, poets lay. 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 fam'd round-house, ever open gate:
How Laurus lay inspir'd beside a sink,
And to mere mortals seem'd a priest in drink :
While others, timely, to the neighbouring Fleet
(Haunt of the Muses) made their safe retreat.

THE DUNCIAD.

ARGUMENT TO BOOK THE THIRD.

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, castlebuilders, chymists, and poets. He is immediately carried on the wings of Fancy 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 is himself 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 those very nations again reduced to her dominion. Then distinguishing the island of Great Britain, shows by what aids, and by what persons, it shall be forthwith brought to her empire. These 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 over-run with farces, operas, and shows; and the throne of Dulness advanced over both the theatres, then how her sons shall preside in the seats of arts and sciences, till in conclusion all shall return to their original chaos: A scene, of which the present action of the Dunciad is but a type or foretaste, giving a glimpse, or Pisgah-sight of the promised fulness of her glory; the accomplishment whereof will, in all probability, hereafter be the theme of many other and greater Dunciads.

BOOK III.

Bur in her temple's last recess enclos'd,
On Dulness' lap th' anointed head repos'd.
Him close she curtain'd round with vapours blue,
And soft besprinkled with Cimmerian dew.