An Essay on Satire, Particularly on the Dunciad - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Persuasive, tho' a woful Blockhead he: Truth dies before his shadowy Sophistry.
For well he knows[44] the Vices of the Town, The Schemes of State, and Int'rest of the Gown; Immoral Afternoons, indecent Nights, Enflaming Wines, and second Appet.i.tes.
But most the Theatres with dulness groan, Embrio's half-form'd, a Progeny unknown: Fine things for nothing, transports out of season, Effects un-caus'd, and murders without reason.
Here Worlds run round, and Years are taught to stay, Each Scene an Elegy, each Act a Play.[45]
Can the same Pow'r such various Pa.s.sions move?
Rejoice, or weep, 'tis ev'ry thing for _Love_.
The self-same Cause produces Heav'n and h.e.l.l: Things contrary as Buckets in a Well; One up, one down, one empty, and one full: Half high, half low, half witty, and half dull.
So on the borders of an ancient Wood, Or where some Poplar trembles o'er the Flood, _Arachne_ travels on her filmy thread, Now high, now low, or on her feet or head.
Yet these love Verse, as Croaking comforts Frogs,[46]
And Mire and Ordure are the Heav'n of Hogs.
As well might Nothing bind Immensity, Or pa.s.sive Matter Immaterials see, As these shou'd write by reason, rhime, and rule, Or we turn Wit, whom nature doom'd a Fool.
If _Dryden_ err'd, 'twas human frailty once, But blund'ring is the Essence of a Dunce.
Some write for Glory, but the Phantom fades; Some write as Party, or as Spleen invades; A third, because his Father was well read, And Murd'rer-like, calls Blushes from the dead.
Yet all for Morals and for Arts contend---- They want'em both, who never prais'd a Friend.
More ill, than dull; For pure stupidity Was ne'er a crime in honest _Banks_, or me.
See next a Croud in damasks, silks, and c.r.a.pes, Equivocal in dress, half-belles, half-trapes: A length of night-gown rich _Phantasia_ trails, _Olinda_ wears one s.h.i.+ft, and pares no nails: Some in _C----l_'s Cabinet each act display, When nature in a transport dies away: Some more refin'd transcribe their Opera-loves On Iv'ry Tablets, or in clean white Gloves: Some of Platonic, some of carnal Taste, Hoop'd, or un-hoop'd, ungarter'd, or unlac'd.
Thus thick in Air the wing'd Creation play, When vernal _Phoebus_ rouls the Light away, A motley race, half Insects and half Fowls, Loose-tail'd and dirty, May-flies, Bats, and Owls.
G.o.ds, that this native nonsense was our worst!
With Crimes more deep, O _Albion!_ art thou curst.
No Judgment open Prophanation fears, For who dreads G.o.d, that can preserve his Ears?
Oh save me Providence, from Vice refin'd, That worst of ills, a _Speculative Mind_![47]
Not that I blame divine Philosophy, (Yet much we risque, for Pride and Learning lye.) Heav'n's paths are found by Nature more than Art, The Schoolman's Head misleads the Layman's Heart.
What unrepented Deeds has _Albion_ done?
Yet spare us Heav'n! return, and spare thy own.
Religion vanishes to _Types_, and _Shade_, By Wits, by fools, by her own Sons betray'd!
Sure 'twas enough to give the Dev'l his due, Must such Men mingle with the _Priesthood_ too?
So stood _Onias_ at th' Almighty's Throne, Profanely cinctur'd in a Harlot's Zone.
Some _Rome_, and some the _Reformation_ blame; 'Tis hard to say from whence such License came; From fierce Enthusiasts, or Socinians sad?
_C----ns_ the soft, or _Bourignon_ the mad?
From wayward Nature, or lewd Poet's Rhimes?
From praying, canting, or king-killing times?
From all the dregs which _Gallia_ cou'd pour forth, (Those Sons of Schism) landed in the _North_?-- From whence it came, they and the D----l best know, Yet thus much, _Pope_, each Atheist is thy Foe.
O Decency, forgive these friendly Rhimes, For raking in the dunghill of their crimes.
To name each Monster wou'd make Printing dear, Or tire _Ned Ward_, who writes six Books a-year.
Such vicious Nonsense, Impudence, and Spite, Wou'd make a Hermit, or a Father write.
Tho' _Julian_ rul'd the World, and held no more Than deist _Gildon_ taught, or _Toland_ swore, Good _Greg'ry_[48] prov'd him execrably bad, And scourg'd his Soul, with drunken Reason mad.
Much longer, _Pope_ restrain'd his awful hand, Wept o'er poor _Niniveh_, and her dull band, 'Till Fools like Weeds rose up, and choak'd the Land.
Long, long he slumber'd e'er th' avenging hour; For dubious Mercy half o'er-rul'd his pow'r: 'Till the wing'd bolt, red-hissing from above Pierc'd Millions thro'----For such the Wrath of _Jove_.
_h.e.l.l_, _Chaos_, _Darkness_, tremble at the sound, And prostrate Fools bestrow the vast Profound: No _Charon_ wafts 'em from the farther Sh.o.r.e, Silent they sleep, alas! to rise no more.
Oh POPE, and Sacred _Criticism!_ forgive A Youth, who dares approach your Shrine, and live!
Far has he wander'd in an unknown Night, No Guide to lead him, but his own dim Light.
For him more fit, in vulgar Paths to tread, To shew th' Unlearned what they never read, Youth to improve, or rising Genius tend, To Science much, to Virtue more, a Friend.
Footnotes:
[26] Margites.
[27] Aristophanes.
[28] Ennius.
[29] ----clarumq; facem praeferre pudori, _Juv. S._ 1.
[30] _See_ Varro_'s Character in_ Cicero_'s Academics._
[31] _Epode_ 6.
[32] _Alludes to this Couplet in his second Satire_,
Compositum jus fasq; animi, sanctiq; recessus, Mentis, & incoctum generoso pectus honesto.
[33] _See his first Satire of_ Nero_'s Verses,_ &c.
[34] Juvenal.
[35] _The_ Caesars _of the Emperor_ Julian.
[36] Lucian_'s True History._
[37] Roscommon, _Revers'd._
[38] _Dr_. Garth _took care of Mr._ Dryden_'s Funeral, which some n.o.blemen, who undertook it, had neglected._
[39] Three Booksellers.
[40] Coimbria_'s comments._ Colleg. Conimbricense, _a Society in_ Spain, _which publish'd tedious explanations of_ Aristotle.
[41] Soncinas, _a Schoolman._
[42] Sa (Eman. de) _See_ Paschal_'s Mystery of Jesuitism._
[43]
Pompeius, tenui jugulos aperire susurro. Juv. S. 4.
Flet, si lacrymas aspexit amici, Nec dolet. S. 3.
[44]
------Noverat ille Luxuriam Imperii veteris, noctesq; Neronis Jam medias, aliamq; famem. Juv. S. 4.
[45] Et chaque Acte en fa piece & una piece entiere. _Boil._
