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Jove frown’d, and “ Use (he cried) those eyes
So skilful, and those hands so taper; Do something exquisite and wise"
She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper.
This vexing him who gave her birth,
Thought by all Heaven a burning shame; What does she next, but bids, on earth,
Her Burlington do just the same.
Pallas, you give yourself strange airs ;
But sure you'll find it hard to spoil The sense and taste of one, that bears
The name of Saville and of Boyle.
Alas! one bad example shown,
How quickly all the sex pursue ! See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown
Between John Overton and you !
ON READING THE TRAVELS OF CAPTAIN LEMUEL
[On the publication of Gulliver's Travels, Pope wrote several pieces of humour, intended to accompany the work, which he sent to Swift ; and in a letter some time afterwards, dated 8th March, 1726-7, he says : “ You received, I hope, some commendatory verses from a Horse and a Lilliputian to Gulliver, and an heroic Epistle of Mrs. Gulliver. The bookseller would fain have printed them before the second edition of the book ; but I would not permit it without your approbation ; nor do I much like them.” It is probable, however, that Swift sent them to the press, as they were printed in the same year (1727) at Dublin, by and for John Hyde, bookseller in Dame-street, in a small duodecimo of sixteen pages, under the title of Poems occasioned by reading the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, explanatory and commendatory; from which edition they are here given.]
TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN,
AN ODE BY TITTY TIT, POET LAUREATE TO HIS MAJESTY OF LILLIPUT.
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH.
Propp'd the skies:
See him stride
Lest an host
So shall I,
THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH
FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG.
Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care,
Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears:
In vain she search'd each cranny of the house,
“Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast ! But little creatures enterprise the most. Trembling I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw, Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at taw, Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew; Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you !
“ 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 Brobdingnag 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? 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 groveling 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,
“But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves
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. O 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.