Chapter 13

'Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth? Who from a page can ever learn the truth? Versed in Court tricks, that money-loving boy To some lord's daughter sold the living toy; Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, As children tear the wings of flies away. From place to place o'er Brobdignag I'll roam, And never will return, or bring thee home. But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind? How then thy fairy footsteps can I find? 40 Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone In the green thicket of a mossy stone; Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slippery round, Perhaps all maim'd, lie grovelling on the ground? Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose, Or, sunk within the peach's down, repose? Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread, Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head, Oh show me, Flora, 'midst those sweets, the flower Where sleeps my Grildrig in the fragrant bower! 50

'But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves On little females, and on little loves; Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse, The baby playthings that adorn thy house, Doors, windows, chimneys, and the spacious rooms, Equal in size to cells of honeycombs: Hast thou for these now ventured from the shore, Thy bark a bean-shell, and a straw thy oar? Or in thy box, now bounding on the main, Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again? 60 And shall I set thee on my hand no more, To see thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er My spacious palm? Of stature scarce a span, Mimic the actions of a real man? No more behold thee turn my watch's key, As seamen at a capstan anchors weigh? How wert thou wont to walk with cautious tread, A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head! How chase the mite that bore thy cheese away, And keep the rolling maggot at a bay!' 70

She spoke; but broken accents stopp'd her voice, Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noise: She sobb'd a storm, and wiped her flowing eyes, Which seem'd like two broad suns in misty skies. Oh, squander not thy grief; those tears command To weep upon our cod in Newfoundland: The plenteous pickle shall preserve the fish, And Europe taste thy sorrows in a dish.

TO MR LEMUEL GULLIVER,

THE GRATEFUL ADDRESS OF THE UNHAPPY HOUYHNHNMS, NOW IN SLAVERY AND BONDAGE IN ENGLAND.

To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm band, Condemn'd to labour in a barbarous land, Return our thanks. Accept our humble lays, And let each grateful Houyhnhnm neigh thy praise.

O happy Yahoo! purged from human crimes, By thy sweet sojourn in those virtuous climes, Where reign our sires; there, to thy country's shame, Reason, you found, and virtue were the same. Their precepts razed the prejudice of youth, And even a Yahoo learn'd the love of truth. 10

Art thou the first who did the coast explore? Did never Yahoo tread that ground before? Yes, thousands! But in pity to their kind, Or sway'd by envy, or through pride of mind, They hid their knowledge of a nobler race, Which own'd, would all their sires and sons disgrace.

You, like the Samian, visit lands unknown, And by their wiser morals mend your own. Thus Orpheus travell'd to reform his kind, Came back, and tamed the brutes he left behind. 20

You went, you saw, you heard; with virtue fought, Then spread those morals which the Houyhnhnms taught. Our labours here must touch thy generous heart, To see us strain before the coach and cart; Compell'd to run each knavish jockey's heat! Subservient to Newmarket's annual cheat! With what reluctance do we lawyers bear, To fleece their country clients twice a year! Or managed in your schools, for fops to ride, How foam, how fret beneath a load of pride! 30 Yes, we are slaves--but yet, by reason's force, Have learn'd to bear misfortune, like a horse.

Oh would the stars, to ease my bonds, ordain, That gentle Gulliver might guide my rein! Safe would I bear him to his journey's end, For 'tis a pleasure to support a friend. But if my life be doom'd to serve the bad, Oh! mayst thou never want an easy pad!

HOUYHNHNM.

MARY GULLIVER TO CAPTAIN LEMUEL GULLIVER.

AN EPISTLE.

The captain, some time after his return, being retired to Mr Sympson's in the country, Mrs Gulliver, apprehending from his late behaviour some estrangement of his affections, writes him the following expostulatory, soothing, and tenderly complaining epistle:--

Welcome, thrice welcome, to thy native place!-- What, touch me not? what, shun a wife's embrace? Have I for this thy tedious absence borne, And waked, and wish'd whole nights for thy return? In five long years I took no second spouse; What Redriff wife so long hath kept her vows? Your eyes, your nose, inconstancy betray; Your nose you stop, your eyes you turn away. 'Tis said, that thou shouldst 'cleave unto thy wife;' Once thou didst cleave, and I could cleave for life. 10 Hear, and relent! hark how thy children moan! Be kind at least to these; they are thy own: Behold, and count them all; secure to find The honest number that you left behind. See how they pat thee with their pretty paws: Why start you? are they snakes? or have they claws? Thy Christian seed, our mutual flesh and bone: Be kind at least to these; they are thy own.

Biddel,[88] like thee, might farthest India rove; He changed his country, but retain'd his love. 20 There's Captain Pannel,[89] absent half his life, Comes back, and is the kinder to his wife; Yet Pannel's wife is brown compared to me, And Mrs Biddel sure is fifty-three.

Not touch me! never neighbour call'd me slut: Was Flimnap's dame more sweet in Lilliput? I've no red hair to breathe an odious fume; At least thy consort's cleaner than thy groom. Why then that dirty stable-boy thy care? What mean those visits to the sorrel mare? 30 Say, by what witchcraft, or what demon led, Preferr'st thou litter to the marriage-bed?

Some say the devil himself is in that mare: If so, our Dean shall drive him forth by prayer. Some think you mad, some think you are possess'd, That Bedlam and clean straw will suit you best. Vain means, alas, this frenzy to appease! That straw, that straw, would heighten the disease.

My bed (the scene of all our former joys, Witness two lovely girls, two lovely boys), 40 Alone I press: in dreams I call my dear, I stretch my hand; no Gulliver is there! I wake, I rise, and, shivering with the frost, Search all the house; my Gulliver is lost! Forth in the street I rush with frantic cries; The windows open, all the neighbours rise: 'Where sleeps my Gulliver? Oh tell me where!' The neighbours answer, 'With the sorrel mare!'

At early morn I to the market haste 50 (Studious in everything to please thy taste); A curious fowl and 'sparagus I chose (For I remember'd you were fond of those); Three shillings cost the first, the last seven groats; Sullen you turn from both, and call for oats. Others bring goods and treasure to their houses, Something to deck their pretty babes and spouses: My only token was a cup-like horn, That's made of nothing but a lady's corn. 'Tis not for that I grieve; oh, 'tis to see The groom and sorrel mare preferr'd to me! 60

These, for some moments when you deign to quit, And at due distance sweet discourse admit, 'Tis all my pleasure thy past toil to know; For pleased remembrance builds delight on woe. At every danger pants thy consort's breast, And gaping infants squall to hear the rest. How did I tremble, when, by thousands bound, I saw thee stretch'd on Lilliputian ground! When scaling armies climb'd up every part, Each step they trod I felt upon my heart. 70 But when thy torrent quench'd the dreadful blaze, King, queen, and nation staring with amaze, Full in my view how all my husband came, And what extinguished theirs increased my flame. Those spectacles, ordain'd thine eyes to save, Were once my present; love that armour gave. How did I mourn at Bolgolam's decree! For when he sign'd thy death, he sentenced me. When folks might see thee all the country round For sixpence, I'd have given a thousand pound. 80 Lord! when the giant babe that head of thine Got in his mouth, my heart was up in mine! When in the marrow-bone I see thee ramm'd, Or on the house-top by the monkey cramm'd, The piteous images renew my pain, And all thy dangers I weep o'er again. But on the maiden's nipple when you rid, Pray Heaven, 'twas all a wanton maiden did! Glumdalclitch, too! with thee I mourn her case: Heaven guard the gentle girl from all disgrace! 90 Oh may the king that one neglect forgive, And pardon her the fault by which I live! Was there no other way to set him free? My life, alas! I fear, proved death to thee.

Oh teach me, dear, new words to speak my flame! Teach me to woo thee by thy best loved name! Whether the style of Grildrig please thee most, So call'd on Brobdignag's stupendous coast, When on the monarch's ample hand you sate, And halloo'd in his ear intrigues of state; 100 Or Quinbus Flestrin more endearment brings, When like a mountain you look'd down on kings: If ducal Nardac, Lilliputian peer, Or Glumglum's humbler title soothe thy ear: Nay, would kind Jove my organs so dispose, To hymn harmonious Houyhnhnm through the nose, I'd call thee Houyhnhnm, that high-sounding name; Thy children's noses all should twang the same; So might I find my loving spouse of course Endued with all the virtues of a horse. 110

1740.

A FRAGMENT OF A POEM.

O Wretched B----,[90] jealous now of all, What god, what mortal shall prevent thy fall? Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in place, And see what succour from the patriot race. C----,[91] his own proud dupe, thinks monarchs things Made just for him, as other fools for kings; Controls, decides, insults thee every hour, And antedates the hatred due to power.

Through clouds of passion P----'s[92] views are clear; He foams a patriot to subside a peer; 10 Impatient sees his country bought and sold, And damns the market where he takes no gold.

Grave, righteous S----[93] jogs on till, past belief, He finds himself companion with a thief.

To purge and let thee blood with fire and sword, Is all the help stern S----[94] would afford.

That those who bind and rob thee would not kill, Good C----[95] hopes, and candidly sits still.

Of Ch---s W----[96] who speaks at all, No more than of Sir Har--y or Sir P----.[97] 20 Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long.

G---r, C---m, B---t,[98] pay thee due regards, Unless the ladies bid them mind their cards. with wit that must And C---d[99] who speaks so well and writes, Whom (saving W.) every S. _harper bites_, must needs, Whose wit and ... equally provoke one, Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on.

As for the rest, each winter up they run, And all are clear, and something must be done. 30 Then urged by C---t,[100] or by C---t stopp'd, Inflamed by P----,[101] and by P---- dropp'd; They follow reverently each wondrous wight, Amazed that one can read, that one can write: So geese to gander prone obedience keep, Hiss, if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep. Till having done whate'er was fit or fine, Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends to dine; Each hurries back to his paternal ground, Content but for five shillings in the pound, 40 Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give, And all agree Sir Robert cannot live.

Rise, rise, great W----,[102] fated to appear, Spite of thyself a glorious minister! Speak the loud language princes ... And treat with half the ... At length to B---- kind as to thy ... Espouse the nation, you ...

What can thy H---[103] ... Dress in Dutch ... 50

Though still he travels on no bad pretence, To shew ...

Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue, Veracious W----[104] and frontless Young;[105] Sagacious Bub,[106] so late a friend, and there So late a foe, yet more sagacious H----?[107] Hervey and Hervey's school, F----, H---y,[108] H---n[109] Yea, moral Ebor,[110] or religious Winton. How! what can O---w,[111] what can D----, The wisdom of the one and other chair, 60 N----[112] laugh, or D---s[113] sager, Or thy dread truncheon M----'s[114] mighty peer? What help from J----'s[115] opiates canst thou draw, Or H---k's[116] quibbles voted into law?

C----,[117] that Roman in his nose alone, Who hears all causes, B----,[118] but thy own, Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, and fate Made fit companions for the sword of state.

Can the light packhorse, or the heavy steer, The sowzing prelate, or the sweating peer, 70 Drag out, with all its dirt and all its weight, The lumbering carriage of thy broken state? Alas! the people curse, the carman swears, The drivers quarrel, and the master stares.

The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries To save thee, in the infectious office _dies_. The first firm P---y soon resign'd his breath, Brave S---w[119] loved thee, and was lied to death. Good M-m-t's[120] fate tore P---th[121] from thy side, And thy last sigh was heard when W---m[122] died. 80

Thy nobles sl---s,[123] thy se---s[124] bought with gold Thy clergy perjured, thy whole people sold. An atheist [symbol] a [symbol]'s ad ... [125] Blotch thee all o'er, and sink ...

Alas! on one alone our all relies, Let him be honest, and he must be wise, Let him no trifler from his school, Nor like his ... still a ... Be but a man! unminister'd, alone, And free at once the senate and the throne; 90 Esteem the public love his best supply, A [symbol]'s[126] true glory his integrity: Rich _with_ his ... _in_ his ... strong, Affect no conquest, but endure no wrong. Whatever his religion[127] or his blood, His public virtue makes his title good. Europe's just balance and our own may stand, And one man's honesty redeem the land.

THE FOURTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.[128]

Say, St John, who alone peruse With candid eye the mimic Muse, What schemes of politics, or laws, In Gallic lands the patriot draws! Is then a greater work in hand, Than all the tomes of Haines's band? 'Or shoots he folly as it flies? Or catches manners as they rise?' Or urged by unquench'd native heat, Does St John Greenwich sports repeat? 10 Where (emulous of Chartres' fame) E'en Chartres' self is scarce a name.

To you (the all-envied gift of heaven) The indulgent gods, unask'd, have given A form complete in every part, And, to enjoy that gift, the art.

What could a tender mother's care Wish better, to her favourite heir, Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours, A stock of health, and golden showers, 20 And graceful fluency of speech, Precepts before unknown to teach?

Amidst thy various ebbs of fear, And gleaming hope, and black despair, Yet let thy friend this truth impart, A truth I tell with bleeding heart, (In justice for your labours past) That every day shall be your last; That every hour you life renew Is to your injured country due. 30

In spite of fears, of mercy spite, My genius still must rail, and write. Haste to thy Twickenham's safe retreat, And mingle with the grumbling great; There, half-devoured by spleen, you'll find The rhyming bubbler of mankind; There (objects of our mutual hate) We'll ridicule both church and state.

EPIGRAM

ON ONE WHO MADE LONG EPITAPHS.[129]

Friend, for your epitaphs I'm grieved, Where still so much is said; One half will never be believed, The other never read.

ON AN OLD GATE.

ERECTED IN CHISWICK GARDENS.

O gate, how cam'st thou here? _Gate_. I was brought from Chelsea last year, Batter'd with wind and weather. Inigo Jones put me together; Sir Hans Sloane Let me alone: Burlington brought me hither.

A FRAGMENT.

What are the falling rills, the pendant shades, The morning bowers, the evening colonnades, But soft recesses for th' uneasy mind To sigh unheard in, to the passing wind! So the struck deer, in some sequester'd part, Lies down to die (the arrow in his heart); There hid in shades, and wasting day by day, Inly he bleeds, and pants his soul away.

TO MR GAY,

WHO HAD CONGRATULATED POPE ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS.

'Ah, friend! 'tis true--this truth you lovers know-- In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow, In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes Of hanging mountains, and of sloping greens: Joy lives not here, to happier seats it flies, And only dwells where Wortley casts her eyes.

'What are the gay parterre, the chequer'd shade, The morning bower, the evening colonnade, But soft recesses of uneasy minds, To sigh unheard in, to the passing winds? So the struck deer in some sequester'd part Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart, He, stretch'd unseen in coverts hid from day, Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life away.'

ARGUS.

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd, Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone, To all his friends, and even his queen unknown: Changed as he was with age, and toils, and cares, Furrow'd his reverend face, and white his hairs, In his own palace forced to ask his bread, Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed, Forgot of all his own domestic crew; The faithful dog alone his rightful master knew: Unfed, unhoused, neglected, on the clay, Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay; Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful man, And longing to behold his ancient lord again. Him when he saw he rose, and crawl'd to meet, ('Twas all he could) and fawn'd and kiss'd his feet, Seized with dumb joy: then falling by his side, Own'd his returning lord, look'd up, and died!

PRAYER OF BRUTUS.

FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.

Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, To mountain wolves and all the savage race, Wide o'er th' aerial vault extend thy sway, And o'er th' infernal regions void of day. On thy third reign look down; disclose our fate, In what new station shall we fix our seat? When shall we next thy hallow'd altars raise, And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise?

LINES ON A GROTTO, AT CRUX-EASTON, HANTS.

Here shunning idleness at once and praise, This radiant pile nine rural sisters[130] raise; The glittering emblem of each spotless dame, Clear as her soul, and shining as her frame; Beauty which nature only can impart, And such a polish as disgraces art; But Fate disposed them in this humble sort, And hid in deserts what would charm a court.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER

DEO OPT. MAX.

1 Father of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

2 Thou great First Cause, least understood: Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind;

3 Yet gave me, in this dark estate, To see the good from ill; And, binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.[131]

4 What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than heaven pursue.

5 What blessings thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives; T' enjoy is to obey.

6 Yet not to earth's contracted span Thy goodness let me bound, Or think Thee Lord alone of man, When thousand worlds are round:

7 Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume Thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land, On each I judge Thy foe.

8 If I am right, Thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way!

9 Save me alike from foolish pride, Or impious discontent, At ought Thy wisdom has denied. Or ought Thy goodness lent.[132]

10 Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.

11 Mean though I am, not wholly so, Since quicken'd by Thy breath; Oh, lead me, wheresoe'er I go, Through this day's life or death!

12 This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, And let Thy will be done.

13 To Thee, whose temple is all space, Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! One chorus let all being raise! All Nature's incense rise!

THE DUNCIAD.

IN FOUR BOOKS.

A LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER,

OCCASIONED BY THE FIRST CORRECT EDITION OF THE DUNCIAD.

It is with pleasure I hear that you have procured a correct copy of 'The Dunciad,' which the many surreptitious ones have rendered so necessary; and it is yet with more, that I am informed it will be attended with a commentary; a work so requisite, that I cannot think the author himself would have omitted it, had he approved of the first appearance of this poem.

Such notes as have occurred to me I herewith send you: you will oblige me by inserting them amongst those which are, or will be, transmitted to you by others; since not only the author's friends but even strangers appear engaged by humanity, to take some care of an orphan of so much genius and spirit, which its parent seems to have abandoned from the very beginning, and suffered to step into the world naked, unguarded, and unattended.

It was upon reading some of the abusive papers lately published, that my great regard to a person, whose friendship I esteem as one of the chief honours of my life, and a much greater respect to truth, than to him or any man living, engaged me in inquiries, of which the enclosed notes are the fruit.

I perceived that most of these authors had been (doubtless very wisely) the first aggressors. They had tried till they were weary, what was to be got by railing at each other; nobody was either concerned or surprised, if this or that scribbler was proved a dunce. But every one was curious to read what could be said to prove Mr Pope one, and was ready to pay something for such a discovery; a stratagem which, would they fairly own it, might not only reconcile them to me, but screen them from the resentment of their lawful superiors, whom they daily abuse, only (as I charitably hope) to get that _by_ them, which they cannot get _from_ them.

I found this was not all. Ill success in that had transported them to personal abuse, either of himself, or (what I think he could less forgive) of his friends. They had called men of virtue and honour bad men, long before he had either leisure or inclination to call them bad writers; and some had been such old offenders, that he had quite forgotten their persons as well as their slanders, till they were pleased to revive them.

Now what had Mr Pope done before to incense them? He had published those works which are in the hands of everybody, in which not the least mention is made of any of them. And what has he done since? He has laughed, and written 'The Dunciad.' What has that said of them? A very serious truth, which the public had said before, that they were dull; and what it had no sooner said, but they themselves were at great pains to procure, or even purchase, room in the prints to testify under their hands to the truth of it.