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Such images have sometimes shown
A mystic sense, but oftener none.
For who conceives, what bards devise,
That Heaven is plac'd in Celia's eyes;
Or where's the sense, direct and moral,
That teeth are pearl, or lips are coral ?

“ Your Horace owns, he various writ,
As wild or sober maggots bit:
And, where too much the poet ranted,
The sage philosopher recanted.
His grave Epistles may disprove
The wanton Odes he made to love.

« Lucretius keeps a mighty pother With Cupid and his fancy'd mother ; Calls her great queen of Earth and Air, Declares that winds and seas obey her ; And, while her honour he rehearses, Implores her to inspire his verses.

Yet, free from this poetic madness,
Next page he says, in sober sadness,
That she and all her fellow-gods
Sit idling in their high abodes,
Regardless of this world below,
Our health or hanging, weal or woe;
Nor once disturb their heavenly spirits
With Scapin's cheats, or Cæsar's merits.

“ Nor e'er can Latin poets prove
Where lies the real seat of Love.
Jecur they burn, and cor they pierce,
As either best supplies their verse;
And, if folks ask the reason for't,
Say, one was long, and t'other short.
Thus, I presume, the British Muse
May take the freedom strangers use.
In prose our property is greater :
Why should it then be less in metre?
If Cupid throws a single dart,
We make him wound the lover's heart :
But, if he takes his bow and quiver ;
'Tis sure he must transfix the liver :
For rbyme with reason may dispense,
And sound has right to govern sense.

« But let your friends in verse suppose,
What ne'er shall be allow'd in prose;
Anatomists can make it clear,
The Liver minds his own affair ;
Kindly supplies our public uses,
And parts and strains the vital juices;
Still lays some useful bile aside,
To tinge the chyle's insipid tide :
Else we should want both gibe and satire ;
And all be burst with pure good-nature.
Now gall is bitter with a witness,
And love is all delight and sweetness.
My logic then has lost its aim,
If sweet and bitter be the same :
And be, methinks, is no great scholar,
Who can mistake desire for choler.

* The like may of the heart be said ; Courage and terrour there are bred. All those, whose hearts are loose and low, Start, if they hear but the lattoo : And mighty physical their fear is; For, soon as noise of combat near is, Their beart, descending to their breeches, Mast give their stomach cruel twitches. But heroes, who o'ercome or die, Hare their hearts hung extremely high, The strings of which, in battle's heat, Against their very corslets beat ;

Keep time with their own trumpet's measure, And yield them most excessive pleasure.

“ Now, if 'tis chiefly in the heart
That Courage does itself exert,
'Twill be prodigious hard to prove
That this is eke the throne of Love.
Would Nature make one place the seat
Of fond desire, and fell debate ?
Must people only take delight in
Those hours, when they are tir'd of fighting?
And has no man, but who has kill'd
A father, right to get a child ?
These notions then I think but idle;
And Love shall still possess the middle.

“ This truth more plainly to discover,
Suppose your hero were a lover.
Though he before had gall and rage,
Which death or conquest must assuage,
He grows dispirited and low;
He hates the fight, and shuns the foe.

• In scornful sloth Achilles slept,
And for his wench, like Tall-boy, wept :
Nor would return to war and slaughter,
Till they brought back the parson's daughter.

« Antonius fled from Actium's coast,
Augustus pressing, Asia lost :
His sails by Cupid's hands unfurl'd,
To keep the fair, he gave the world.
Edward our Fourth, rever'd and crown'd,
Vigorous in youth, in arms renown'd,
While England's voice, and Warwick's caro,
Design'd him Gallia's beauteous heir,
Chang'd peace and power for rage and wars,
Only to dry one widow's tears —

“ France's fourth Henry we may see
A servant to the fair d'Estree ;
When, quitting Coutras prosperous field,
And Fortune taught at length to yield,
He from his guards and midnight tent
Disguis'd o'er hills and vallies went,
To wanton with the sprightly dame,
And in his pleasure lost his fame.

« Bold is the critic who dares prove
These heroes were no friends to love;
And bolder he, who dares aver
That they were enemies to war.
Yet, when their thought should, now or never,
Have rais'd their heart, or fir'd their liver,
Fond Alma to those parts was gone,
Which Love more justly calls his own.

“ Examples I could cite you more ; But be contented with these four : For when one's proofs are aptly chosen, Four are as valid as four dozen. One came from Greece, and one from Rome; The other two grew nearer home. For some in ancient books delight; Others prefer what moderns write : Now I should be extremely loth, Not to be thought expert in both."

CANTO II.

" But shall we take the Muse abroad, To drop her idly on the road ? And leave our subject in the middle, As Butler did his Bear and Fiddle ? Yet he, consummate master, knew, When to recede, and where pursue :

His noble negligences teácii

The man suspects his larly's crying What others toils despair to reach.

(When he last autumn lay a-dying) He, perfect dancer, climbs the rope,

Was but to gain him to appoint her And balances your fear and hope :

By codicil a larger jointure. If, after some distinguish'd leap,

The woman finds it all a trick, He drops his polc, and scems to slip,

That he could swoon when she was sick ; Straighit gathering all his active strength,

And know's, that in that grief he reckon'd He rises higher half his length.

On black-cy'd Susan for his second. With wonder you approve his slight,

“ Thus having strove some tedious years And owe your pleasure to your fright:

With feign'd desires, and rcal fears; But like poor Andrew I advance,

And, tir'd with answers and replies False mimic of my master's dance.

Of John affirns, and Marthia lies, Around the cord awhile I sprawl,

Leaving this endless altercation, And thence, though low, in earnest fall.

The Mind affects a higher station. “ My preface tells you, I digress'd :

“ Poltis, that generous king of Thrace, He's half absolu'd who has confess'd."

I think, was in this very case. “ I like," quoth Dick, “ your simile,

All Asia now was by the ears, And, in return, take two from me.

And gods beat up for volunteers As masters in the clare obscure

To Greece and Troy; while Poltis sat With various light your eyes allure,

In quiet governing his state. A flaming yellow here they spread,

• And whence,' said the pacific king.. Draw off in blue, or charge in red ;

- Docs all this noise and discord spring? Yet, from these colours oddly mix’d,

Why, Paris took Atrides' wife.' Your sight upon the whole is fix'd :

• With case I could compose this strife : Or as, again, your courtly dames

The injur'd hero should not lose, (Whose clothes returning birth-day claims) Nor the young lover want a spouse. By arts improve the stuff's they vary,

But Helen chang'd her first condition, And things are best as most contrary ;

Without her husband's just perinission. The gown, withi stiff embroidery shining,

What from the dame can Paris hope? Looks charming with a slighter lining;

She may as well from him elope. The out-, if Indian figure stain,

Again, how can her old good man, The in-side must be rich and plain.

With honour, take her back again? So you great authors have thought tit

From hence I logically gather, To make digression teinper wit :

The woman cannot live with cither. When arguinents too fiercely glare,

Now, I have two right honest wives,
You calm them with a milder air :

For whose possession no man strives :
To break their points, you turn their forces One to Atrides I will send,
And furbelow the plain discourse."

And t'other to my Trojan friend. “ Richard,” quoth Mat, “ these worils of thine Each prince shall thus with honour lave Speak something sly, and something fine :

What both so warmly seem to crave : But I shall e'en resume my theme,

The wrath of gods and man shall cease, However thou may'st praise or blame.

And Poltis live and die in peace.' “ As people marry now, and settle,

« Dick, if this story pleaseth thee, Fierce Love abates his usual mettle :

Pray thank Dan Pope, who told it me. Worldly desires, and household cares,

“ Howe'er swift Alma's flight may vary, Disturb the godhead's soft affairs :

(Take this by way of corollary) So now, as health or temper changes,

Some limbs she finds the very same, In larger compass Alma ranges.

In place, in dignity, in name : This day below, the next above,

These dwell at such convenient distance, As light or solid whiżnsies move.

That each may give his friend assistance. So merchant has his house in town,

Thus he who runs or dances begs And country-seat near Bansted-down :

The equal vigour of two legs; From one he dates his foreign letters,

So much to both does Alma trust, Sends out his goods, and duns his debtors :

She ne'er regards which goes the first. In t'other, at his hours of leisure,

Teague could make neither of them stay, Ho smokes his pipe, and takes his pleasure.

When with himself he ran away. “ And now your matrimonial Cupid,

The man who struggles in the fight, Lash'd on by Time, grows tir'd and stupid. Fatigues left arm as well as right; For story and experience tell us

For, whilst one hand exalts the blow, That man grows old, and woman jealous.

And on the earth extends the foe, Both would their little ends secure;

T'other would take it wondrous ill, He sighs for freedom, she for power :

If in your pocket it lay still. His wishes tend abroad to roam,

And, when you shoot, and shut one eye, And hers to domineer at home.

You cannot think he would deny Thus passion flags by slow degrees,

To lend the other friendly aid, And, ruffled more, delighted less,

Or wink as coward, and afraid. The busy inind does seldom go

No, sir; whilst he withdraws his famne, To those once-charming seats below ;

His comrade takes the surer aim : But, in the breast incump'd, prepares

One moment if his beams recede, For well-bred feints and future wars.

As soon as e'er the bird is dead,

Opening again, he lays his clairn

Her tallies useless lie, and idle, To half the profit, half the fame,

If plac'd exactly in the middle : And helps to pocket up the game.

But, forc'd from this unactive state 'Tis thus one tradesman slips away,

By virtue of some casual weight, To give his partner fairer play.

On either side you hear them clatter, “ Some limbs again, in bulk or stature

And judge of right and left hand matter. Unlike, and not a-kin by nature,

“ Now, Richard, this coercive force, In concert act, like modern friends,

Without your choice, must take its course ; Because one serves the other's ends.

Great kings to wars are pointed forth, The arm thus waits upon the heart,

Like loaded needles to the north. So quick to take the bully's part,

And thou and I, by power unseen, That one, though warm, decides more slow

Are barely passive, and suck'd-in Than t'other executes the blow.

To Henault's vaults, or Celia's chamber, A stander-by may chance to have it,

As straw and paper are by amber. Ere Hack limself perceives he gave it.

If we sit down to play or set, " The amorous eyes thus always go

(Suppose át ombre or basset,) A-strolling for their friends below;

Let people call us cheats or fools, For, long before the squire and dame

Our cards and we are equal tools. Have tête-à-léte relier'd their flame,

We súre in vain the cards condemn: Ere visits yet are brought about,

Ourselves both cut and shuffled them. The eye by sympathy looks out,

In vain on Fortune's aid rely : Knows Florimel, and longs to meet her,

She only is a stander-by. And, if he sees, is sure to greet her,

Poor men ! poor papers! we and they Though at sash-window, on the stairs,

Do some impulsive force obey : At court, nay (authors say) at prayers.

And are but play'd with — do not play. “ The funeral of some valiant knight

But space and matter we should blame; May give this thing its proper light.

They palm'd the trick that lost the game. View his two gauntlets; these declare

“ Thus, to save further contradiction 'That both his hands were us'd to war.

Against what you may think but fiction, And from his two gilt spurs 'tis learn'd

I for attraction, Dick, declare : His feet were equally concern'd.

Deny it those bold men that dare. Bat have you not, with thought, beheld

As well your motion, as your thought, The sword hang dangling o'er the shield ?

Is all by hidden impulse wrought : Which shows the breast, that plate was us'd to, Ev'n saying that you think or walk, Had an ally right arm to trust to :

How like a country squire you talk ! And, by the peep-holes in his crest,

" Mark then ;- Where fancy, or desire, Is it not virtually confest,

Collects the beams of vital fire; That there his eyes took distant aim,

Into that limb fair Alma slides, And glanc'd respect to that bright dame,

And there, pro tempore, resides. In whose delight his hope was center'd,

She dwells in Nicolini's tongue, And for whose glove his life he ventur'd ?

When Pyrrhus chants the heavenly song. * Objections to my general system

When Pedro does the lute command, May rise, perhaps; and I have mist them;

She guides the cunning artist's hand. But I can call to my assistance

Through Macer's gullet she runs down, Proxiinity (mark that!) and distance ;

When the vile glutton dines alone. Can prove, that all things, on occasion,

And, void of modesty and thought, Lore union, and desire adhesion ;

She follows Bibo's endless draught. That Alma merely is a scale,

Through the soft sex again she ranges, And motives, like the weights, prevail.

As youth, caprice, or fashion, changes. If neither side turn down nor up,

Fair Alma, careless and serene, With loss or gain, with fear or hope,

In Fanny's sprightly eyes is seen ; The balance always would hang even,

While they diffuse their infant beams, Like Mah'met's tomb, 'twixt Earth and Heaven. Themselves not conscious of their flames. " This, Richard, is a curious case :

Again fair Alma sits confest Suppose your eyes sent equal rays

On Florimel's experter breast; Upon two distant pots of ale,

When she the rising sigh constrains, Not knowing which was mild or stale :

And, by concealing, speaks her pains. In this sad state your doubtful choice

In Cynthia's neck fair Alma glows, Would never have the casting voice;

When the vain thing her jewels shows : Which best or worst you could not think,

When Jenny's stays are newly lac'd, And die you must for want of drink;

Fair Alma plays about her waist ; Unless some chance inclines your sight,

And when the swelling hoop sustains Setting one pot in fairer light;

The rich brocade, fair Alma deigns Then you prefer or A, or B,

Into that lower space to enter, As lines and angles best agree :

Of the large round herself the centre. Your sense resolu'd impels your will :

“ Again : that single limb or feature, She zuides your hand - so drink your fill.

(Such is the cogent force of Nature,) * Have you not seen a baker's maid

Which most did Alma's passion move Between two equal banniers sway'd ?

In the first object of her love,

For ever will be found confest,

For ever more all care is vain, And printed on the amorous breast

That would bring Alma down again. « Abelard ! ill-fated youth,

As, in habitual gout or stone, Thy tale will justify this truth :

The only thing that can be done, But well I weet, thy cruel wrong

Is to correct your drink and diet, Adorns a nobler poet's song.

And keep the inward foe in quiet; Dan Pope for thy misfortune griev'd,

So, if for any sins of ours, With kind concern and skill has weav'd

Or our forefathers' higher powers, A silken web; and ne'er shall fade

Severe, though just, afflict our life Its colours; gently has he laid

With that prime ill, a talking wife ; The mantle o'er thy sad distress,

Till Death shall bring the kind relief, And Venus shall the texture bless.

We must be patient, or be deaf. He o'er the weeping nun has drawn

“ You know a certain lady, Dick, Such artful folds of sacred lawn,

Who saw me when I last was sick : That Love, with equal grief and pride,

She kindly talk'd, at least three hours, Shall see the crime he strives to hide,

Of plastic forms, and mental powers; And, softly drawing back the veil,

Describ'd our pre-existing station The god shall to his votaries tell

Before this vile terrene creation ; Each conscious tear, each blushing grace,

And, lest I should be weary'd, madan, That deck'd dear Eloisa's face.

To cut things short, came down to Adam; Happy the poet, blest the lays,

From whence, as fast as she was able, Which Buckingham has deign'd to praise ! She drowns the world, and builds up Babel. “ Next, Dick, as youth and habit sways,

Through Syria, Persia, Greece, she goes, A hundred gambols Alma plays.

And takes the Romans in the close. If, whilst a boy, Jack ran from school,

“ But we'll descant on general nature : Fond of his hunting-horn and pole;

This is a system, not a satire. Though gout and age his speed detain,

“ Turn we this globe, and let us see Old John halloos his hounds again;

How different nations disagree By his fire-side he starts the hare,

In what we wear, or eat and drink; And turns her in his wicker-chair;

Nay, Dick, perhaps in what we think. His feet, however lame, you find,

In water as you smell and taste Have got the better of his Mind.

The soils through which it rose and past, “ If, while the Mind was in her leg,

In Alma's manners you may read The dance affected nimble Peg;

The place where she was born and bred. Old Madge, bewitch'd at sixty-one,

« One people from their swaddling bands Calls for Green Sleeves, and Jumping Joan. Releas'd their infants' feet and hands : In public mask, or private ball,

Here Alma to these limbs was brought, From Lincoln's-inn to Goldsmiths-hall,

And Sparta's offspring kick'd and fought All Christmas long away she trudges,

" Another taught their babes to talk, Trips it with prentices and judges.

Ere they could yet in go-carts walk : In vain her children urge her stay,

There Alma settled in the tongue, And age or palsy bar the way

And orators from Athens sprung. But, if those images prevail

“ Observe but in these neighbouring lands Which whilom did affect the tail,

The different use of mouths and hands; She still renews the ancient scene,

As men repos'd their various hopes, Forgets the forty years between :

In battles these, and those in tropes. Awkwardly gay, and oddly merry,

“ In Britain's isles, as Heylin notes, Her scarf pale pink, her head-knot cherry;

The ladies trip in petticoats; O'er-heated with ideal rage,

Which, for the honour of their nation, She cheats her son, to wed her page.

They quit but on some great occasion. “ If Alma, whilst the man was young,

Men there in breeches clad you view : Slipp'd up too soon into his tongue,

They claim that garment as their due. Pleas'd with his own fantastic skill,

In Turkey the reverse appears; He lets that weapon ne'er lie still.

Long coats the haughty husband wears, On any point if you dispute,

And greets his wife with angry speeches, Depend upon it, he'll confute :

If she be seen without her breeches. Change sides, and you increase your pain,

“ In our fantastic climes the fair For he'll confute you back again.

With cleanly powder dry their hair : For one may speak with Tully's tongue,

And round their lovely breast and head Yet all the while be in the wrong.

Fresh flowers their mingled odours shed. And 'tis remarkable, that they

Your nicer Hottentots think meet Talk most, who have the least to say.

With guts and tripe to deck their feet : Your dainty speakers have the curse,

With down-cast looks on Totta's legs To plead bad causes down to worse :

The ogling youth most humbly begs As dames, who native beauty want,

She would not from his hopes remove Still uglier look, the more they paint.

At once his breakfast and his love : " Again: if in the female sex

And, if the skittish nymph should Ay, Alma should on this member fix,

He in a double sense must die. (A cruel and a desperate case,

“ We simple toasters take delight From which Heaven shield my lovely lass!)

To see our women's teeth look white,

And every saucy ill-bred fellow

After her tea, she sllps away, Sneers at a mouth profoundly yellow.

And what to do, one need not say. In China none hold women sweet,

Now see how great Pomonque's queen Except their snags are black as jet.

Behav'd herself amongst the men : King Chilu put nine queens to death,

Pleas'd with her punch, the gallant soul Convict on statute, Ivory Teeth.

First drank, then water'd in the bowl; " At Tonquin, if a prince should die,

And sprinkled in the captain's face (As Jesuits write, who never lie,)

The marks of her peculiar grace. — The wife, and counsellor, and priest,

“ To close this point, we need not roam Who serv'd him most, and lov'd him best,

For instances so far from home. Prepare and light his funeral fire,

What parts gay France from sober Spain ? And cheerful on the pile expire.

A little rising rocky chain. In Europe 'twould be hard to find

Of men born south or north o'th' hill, In each degree one half so kind.

Those seldom move, these ne'er stand still. Now turn we to the farthest east,

Dick, you love maps, and may perceive And there observe the gentry drest.

Rome not far distant from Geneve. Prince Giolo, and his royal sisters,

If the good pope remains at home, Scart'd with ten thousand comely blisters; He's the first prince in Christendom. The inarks remaining on the skin,

Choose then, good pope, at home to stay, To tell the quality within.

Nor westward curious take thy way: Distinguish'd slashes deck the great :

Thy way unhappy should'st thou take As each excels in birth or state,

From Tyber's bank to Leman lake, His oylet-holes are more and ampler :

Thou art an aged priest no more, The king's own body was a sampler.

But a young flaring painted whore : Happy the climate, where the beau

Thy sex is lost, thy town is gone; Wears the same suit for use and show :

No longer Rome, but Babylon. And at a small expense your wife,

That some few leagues should make this change, If once well pink'd, is cloth'd with life.

To men unlearn'd seems mighty strange. · Westward again, the Indian fair

“ But need we, friend, insist on this? Is nicely smear'd with fat of bear:

Since, in the very Canton Swiss, Before you see, you smell your toast;

All your philosophers agree, And sweetest she who stinks the most.

And prove it plain, that one may be The finest sparks and cleanest beaux

A heretic, or true believer, Drip from the shoulders to the toes :

On this, or t'other side a river." How sleek their skins! their joints how easy! « Here,” with an artful smile, quoth Dick, There slovens only are not greasy!

“ Your proofs come mighty full and thick." “ I mention's different ways of breeding :

The bard, on this extensive chapter Begin we in our children's reading.

Wound up into poetic rapture, To master John the English maid

Continued : “ Richard, cast your eye, A horn-book gives of gingerbread;

By night, upon a winter-sky: And, that the child may learn the better,

Cast it by day-light on the strand, As he can naine, he eats the letter.

Which compasses fair Albion's land : Proceeding thus with vast delight,

If you can count the stars that glow He spells, and gnaws, from left to right.

Above, or sands that lie below, But, show a Hebrew's hopeful son

Into those common places look, Where we suppose the book begun,

Which from great authors I have took, The child would thank you for your kindness, And count the proofs I have collected, And read quite backward from our finis.

To have my writings well protected. Devour he learning ne'er so fast,

These. I lay by for time of need, Great A would be reserv'd the last.

And thou may'st at thy leisure read, « An equal instance of this matter

For, standing every critic's rage, Is in the manners of a daughter.

I safely will to future age In Europe, if a harmless maid,

My system, as a gift, bequeath,
By Nature and by Love betray'd,

Victorious over Spite and Death.'
Should, ere a wife, become a nurse,
Her friends would look on her the worse.
In China, Dampier's Travels tell ye,

Canto III.
(Look in his Index for Pagelli,)
Soon as the British ships unmoor,

RICHARD, who now was half asleep, And jolly long-boat rows to shore,

Rous'd, nor would longer silence keep; Down come the nobles of the land :

And sense like this, in vocal breath, Fach brings his daughter in his hand,

Broke from his two-fold hedge of teeth. Beseeching the imperious tar

Now, if this phrase too harsh be thought, To make her but one hour his care.

Pope, tell the world, 'tis not my fault. The tender mother stands affrighted,

Old Homer taught us thus to speak; Lest ber dear daughter should be slighted : If 'tis not sense, at least 'tis Greek. And poor miss Yaya dreads the shame

“ As folks," quoth Richard, “ prone to leasing, Of going back the maid she came.

Say things at first, because they're pleasing, « Observe how custom, Dick, compels

Then prove what they have once asserted, The lady that in Europe dwells :

Nor care to have their lie deserted,

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