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Then raptures high the seat of sense o'erflow, “ How little, mark! that portion of the ball,
Which only heads refin'd from reason know. (nods, Where, faint at best, the beams of science fall;
Hence, from the straw where Bedlam's prophet Soon as they draw, from Hyperborean skies,
He hears loud oracles, and talks with gods : Embody'd dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesmair's scheme, Lo where Mæotis sleeps, and hardly flows
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,

The freezing Tanais thro’ a waste of snows, 'The maid's romantic wish, the chymist's flame,

The north by myriads pours her nighty sons, And poet's vision of eternal fame.

Great nurse of Goths, of Alans, and of Huns. And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd, See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame The king descended to th’ Elysian shade.

Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name! There, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls,

“ See, the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall; Old Bavius sits, to dip poetic souls,

See, the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul. And blunt the sense, and fit it for a scull

See, where the morning gilds the palmy shore Of solid proof, impenetrably dull :

(The soil that arts and intant letters vore) Instant when dipt, away they'wing their flight, His conqu’ring tribes th’ Arabian prophet draws, Where Brown and Mears unbar the gates of light, And saving ignorance enthrones by laws. Demand new bodies, and in calf's array,

See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep; Rush to the world, impatient for the day.

And all the western world believe and sleep. Millions and millions on these banks he views, “ Lo Rome herself, proud mistress now no more Thick as the stars of night, and morning dews, Of arts, but thund'ring against heathen lore; As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly,

Her gray-hair'd synods damning books unread, As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory.

And Bacon trembling for his brazen head; Wond'ring he gaz'd: When lo! a sage appears,

Padua with sighs behold her Livy burn, By his broad shoulders known, and length of ears, And ev'n th’Antipodes Virgilius mourn. known by the band and suit which Settle wore, See, the cirque falls, th’unpillar'd temple nods, (His only suit) for twice three years before : Streets pav’d with heroes, Tyber choak'd with goos: All as the vest appear'd the wearer's frame, Till Peter's keys some christend Jove adorn, Old in new-state, another yet the same.

And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn; Bland and familiar, as in life, begun

See graceless Venus to a virgin tuin'd, Thus the great father to the greater son.

Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'.. " Oh born to see what none can see awake! “ Behold yon isle, by palmers, pilgrims trod, Behold the wonders of th' oblivious lake,

Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, unshod, Thon, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred shore; Peeld, patch'd, and pyebald, linsey-woolsey The hand of Bavius drench'd thee. o'er and o'er.

brothers,

Tothers. But blind to former, as to future fate,

Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless What mortal knows his pre-existent state ?

That once was Britain-Happy! had she seen Who knows how long, thy transmigrating soul No fiercer sons, bad Easter never been ! Might from Boeotian to Baotian roll!

In peace, great goddess, ever be ador'd; How many Dutchmen she vouchsaf’d to thrid ?

How keen the war,

if Dulness draw the sword ? How many stages thro' old monks she rid ? Thus visit not thy own! on this blest age And all who since, in mild benighted days, Oh spread thy influence, but restrain thy rage. Mix'd the owl's ivy with the poet's bays?

“ And see! my son, the hour is on its way, As man's meanders to the vital spring

That lifts our goddess to imperial sway; Roll all their tides, then back their circles bring; This fav'rite isle, long sever'd from her reign, Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain, Dove like, she gathers to her wings again. Suck the thread in, then yield it out again :

Now look thro' fate! behold the scene she draws ! All nonsense thus, of old or modern date,

What aids, what armies, to assert her cause? Shall in thee center, from thee circulate.

See all her progeny, illustrious sight! For this, our queen unfolds to vision true

Behold, and count them, as they rise to light. Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view : As Berecynthia, wbile her off-spring vie Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind In homage, to the mother of the sky, Shall first recallid, rush forward to thy mind; Surveys around her in her blest abode Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising reign, A hundred sons, and every son a god : And let the past and future fire thy brain.

Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd “ Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands Shall take thro’ Grubstreet her triumphant round, Her boundless empire over seas and lands.

And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once, See round the poles where keener spangles shine, Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce. Where spices smoke beneath the burning line, Mark first that youth who takes the foremost (Earth's wide extremes) her sable flag display'd; And thrusts his person full into your face. [place, And all the nations cover'd in her shade!

With all thy father's virtues blest, be born! “Fareastward cast thine eye, from whence the Sun And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn. And orient-science at a birth begun.

“ A second see, by meeker manners known, One god-like monarch all that pride confounds, And modest as the maid that sips alone; He, whose long wall the wand'ring Tartar bounds. From the strong fate of drams if thou get free, Heav'ns! what a pile? whole ages perish there : Another Durfey, Ward ! shall sing in thee. And one bright blaze turns learning into air. Thee shall each ale-house, thee each gill-house “ Thence to the south extend thy gladden'd eyes;

mouro, There rival flames with equal glory rise,

And answering gin-shops sourer sighs return. From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll, “ Lo next two slip-shod Muses traipse along, And lick up all their physic of the soul.

In lofty madness, meditating song,

With trasses staring from poetic dreams,

But O! with One, immortal One dispense, And never wash'd, but in Castalia's streams : The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's sense! Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race! Content, each emanation of his fires Lo Horneck's fierce, and Room's funereal face; That beams on Earth, each virtue he inspires, Lo sneering Goode, half malice and half whim, Each art he prompts, each charm he can create, A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim.

Whate'er he gives, are giv'n for you to hate. Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with awe, Persist, by all divine in man unaw'd, Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law.

But learn, ye dunces ! not to scorn your God.” Lo Bond and Foxton, ev'ry nameless name,

Thus he, for then a ray of reasoni stole All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame. Half thro' the solid darkness of his soul; Some strain in rhyme; the Muses, on their racks, But soon the cloud return'd-and thus the sire : Scream like the winding of ten thousand jacks : “ See now, what Dulness and her sons admire ! Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or check, See what the charms that smite the simple heart, Break Priscian's head, and Pegasus's neck; Not touch'd by nature, and not reach'd by art." Down, down they larum, with impetuous whirl, He look'd, and saw a sable sorc'rer rise, The Pindars, and the Miltons of a Curl. [howls, Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies :

“ Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cinthia All sudden, Gorgons hiss, and dragons glare, And makes night hideous--Answer him ye owls ! And ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war.

“Sense, speech, and measure, living tongues, and Hell rises, Heav'n descends, and dance on Earth, Let all give way—and Morris may be read. (dead, Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth,

“ Flow, Welsted, fow! like thine inspirer, beer, A fire, a jigg, a battle, and a ball, Tho' stale, not ripe; tho' thin, yet never clear ; Till one wide conflagration swallows all. So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull ; Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknown, Heady, not strong ; and foaming, tho' not full. Breaks out refulgent, with a heav'n its own.

“ Ah Dennis! Gildon ah! what ill-starr'd rage Another Cynthia her new journey runs, Divides a friendship long confirm’d by age ? And other planets circle other suns : Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor,

The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, But fool with fool is barb’rous civil war.

Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the Embrace, embrace my sons ! be foes no more !

skies ; Nor glad vile poets with true critics gore.

And last, to give the whole creation grace, “ Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd; Lo! one rast egg produces human race. How like in manners, and how like in mind ! Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought : Fam'd for good nature, Burnet, and for truth; “What pow'r," he cries, “what power these wonDucket, for pious passion to the youth.

ders wronght?" Equal in wit, and equally polite,

“ Son! what thon seek'st is in thee. Look, and find Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler write; Each monster meets his likeness in thy mind. Like are their merits, like rewards they share, Yet would'st thou more? In yonder cloud bebold, That shines a consul, this commissioner."

Whose sarcenet skirts are edg’d with famy gold, “ But who is he, in closet close y pent,

A matchless youth! His nod these worlds controls, Of sober face, with learned dust besprent ?” Wings the red lightning, and the thunder rolls. “. Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight, Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round On parchment scraps y fed, and Wormius hight. Her magic charms o'er all unclassic ground: To future ages may thy dulness last,

Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher, As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past! [mark, Illumes their light, and sets their flames on fire.

“ There, dim in clouds, the poring scholiasts Immortal Rich! how calm be sits at ease Wits, who like owls see only in the dark,

Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head;

And proud bis mistress' orders to perform, For ever reading, never to be read !

Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. “ But, where each science lifts its modern type, “But lo! to dark encounter in mid air Hist'ry her pot, Divinity his pipe,

New wizards rise: here Booth, and Cibber there : While proud Philosophy repines to show,

Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd, Dishonest sight! bis breeches rent below;

On grinning dragons Cibber mounts the wind : Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo Henley stands, Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din, Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands. Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln's Inn; How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue ! Contending theatres our empire raise, How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung.' Alike their labours, and alike their praise. Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain, “And are these wonders, son, to thee unknown? While Kennet, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain. Unknown to thee? these wonders are thy own. Oh great restorer of the good old stage,

For works like these let deathless journals tell, Preacher at once, and zany of thy age !

* None but thyself can be thy parallel.'. Oh worthy thou of Ægypt's wise abodes,

These, fate reserv'd to grace thy reiga divine, A decent priest, where monkeys were the gods ! Foreseen by me, but ah! withheld from mine. But fate with butchers plac'd thy priestly stall, In Lud's old walls tho' long I rul'd renown'd, Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and mawl; Far, as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound; And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's praise, Tho' my own aldermen conferr'd my bays, In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolston's days. To me committing their eternal praise,

" Yet oh my sons! a father's words attend : Their full-fed heroes, their pacific may'rs, (So may the fates preserve the ears you lend) Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars: 'Tis yours, a Bacon or a Locke to blame,

Tho' long my party built on me their hopes, A Newton's genius, or a Milton's flame:

Por writing pamphlets, and for roasting popes;

a

(Diff'rent our parties, but with equal grace Benson sole judge of architecture sit,
The goddess smiles on Whig and 'lory race, And Ambrose Philips be preferr'd for wit !
'Tis the same rope that several ends they twist, While naked mourns the dormitory wall,
To Dulness, Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)

And Jones' and Boyle's united labours fall,
Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag on ! While Wren with sorrow to the grave descends,
Reduc'd at last to hiss in my own dragon.

Gay dies uppension’d with a hundred friends, Avert it, Heav'n! that thou or Cibber e'er Hibernian politicks, O Swift, thy fate, Should wag two serpent-tails in Smithfield fair. And Pope's whole years to comment and translate. Like the vile straw that's blown about the streets, “Proceed great days ! till learning fly the shore, The needy poet sticks to all he meets,

Till birch shall blush with noble blood no more, Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now fast, Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play, And carry'd off in some dog's tail at last.

Till Westminster's whole year be holiday; Happier thy fortunes ! like a rolling stone, Till Isis' elders reel, their pupils sport ; Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on,

And Alma Mater lye dissolvd in port ! [year ; Safe in its heaviness can never stray,

"Signs following signs lead on the mighty And licks up every blockhead in the way.

See! the dull star roll round and re-appear. Thy dragons magistrates and peers shall taste, She comes ! the cloud-compelling pow'r behold! And from each show rise duller than the last; With night primeval, and with chaos old. Till rais'd from booths to theatre, to court, Lo! the great anarch's ancient reign restor'd ; Her seat imperial, Dulness shall transport. Light dies before her uncreating word. Already opera prepares the way,

As one by one, at dread Medæa's strain, The sure fore-runner of ber gentle sway.

The sick’ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; To aid her cause, if Heav'n thou canst not bend, As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest, Hell thou shalt move ; for Faustus is thy friend : Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest ; Pluto with Cato thou for her shalt join,

Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, And link the Mourning Bride to Proserpine. Art after art goes out, and all is night. Grub-street! thy fall should men and gods conspire, See sculking Truth in her old cavern lye, Thy stage shall stand, ensure it but from fire : Secur'd by mountains of heap'd casuistry: Another Æschylus appears ! prepare

Philosophy, that touch'd the heav'ns before, For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair!

Shrinks to her hidden cause, and is no more : In flames, like Semele's, be brought to bed, See Physic beg the Stagyrite's defence ! While opening Hell spouts wild-fire at your head. See Metaphysic call for aid on sense !

“ Now Bavius take the poppy from thy brow, See Mystery to mathematics fly; And place it here' here all ye heroes bow ! In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. This, this is lie, foretold by ancient rhymes : Thy hand, great Dulness ! lets the curtain fall, Th’ Augustus, born to bring Saturnian times : And universal darkness buries all." Beneath his reign, shall Eusden wear the bays, “ Enough! enough!" the raptur'd monarch Cibber preside, lord-chancellor of plays.

And thro' the ivory gate the vision fies. (cries;

:

END OF VOL. XIL

G, WOODFALL, Printer, Paternester-row, London.

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