Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Et Cætera, thou glorious Trifle! how
Shall I the Fame, thou well deserv'st, bestow?
In vain wou'd Art thy Excellency raise,
And Fancy's self is non-plus'd in thy Praise.
Yet will my Muse attempt a daring Flight,
To shew my Zeal, tho' not describe Thee right.

315

Aid me, O Swift; and to the latest Times,
To your bright Genius sacred be the Rhimes.

Et Cætera, when had thy Being Birth?
Or wert thou form'd before the finish'd Earth?
Hadst Thou a Maker? or, at God's first Word,
Didst thou not start up, on thy own accord?
Yes—for when Light, the first Day's Labour! sprung,
Thy Being slily to its Being clung.
The Heav'ns and Earth, that just began to be,
Were all Et Cætera, and contain'd in Thee.

Why then, ye Sages, is it boldly said,
That out of Nothing, every Thing was made?
Et Cætera a Non-ens do ye make?
I say, with Reverence, 'tis a dull Mistake;

316

For all Things, in Et Cætera's Bosom, lay,
From the great First, unto the Final, Day.
Now, cou'd a Nothing Crowds of Something hold?
Without a Mine, can there be Veins of Gold?
Or, to speak plainer to your common Sense,
(And then my Thesis will need no Defence)
Did not your selves originally come,
Each of you, from your proper Mother's Womb?
And was that Womb no more than empty Space?
—Ye see, learn'd Sirs, it is a puzzling Case!
And so I leave it as I found it first;
Determine ye whose Notion is the worst.
For Me, I'd rather to your Terms submit,
Than cross my Muse, for deep Disputes unfit!
Take ye the Judgment, and give me the Wit.
Hard Words, to which I've no Ideas got,
Like Hasty-Pudding, harbour in my Throat.

317

Alike, dull Food and Learning suit with Me!
My Stomach turns at all, that is not free.

But to return, before I run too far,
(For Episodes a clear Connection marr,
And I shou'd be asham'd, to have it said,
A roving Muse betrays a roving Head)
My Task is next, on that Foundation Stone,
(I mean my foresaid Problem) to go on,
And sing how, of all mortal Beings, We
Authors of Books oblig'd t'Et Cætera be.

And here, my Muse, a spacious Field survey!
In spite of Rules, and Dennis self, display
A Scene of Fancy, whimsical and gay:
Make Dedicators chiefly know the Debt
They owe Et Cætera, lest they shou'd forget.

318

How oft by It, important Word! with Ease,
Do begging Scriblers find the Way to please?
When to a Lord, or honourable Knight,
They mean (unknowing what is fit) to write—
If ignorant of his Honours, Titles, Places—
One right Et Cætera can preserve his Graces.
Shou'd they not Virtues, in their Patrons, find;
Or be they not, t'enumerate each, inclin'd,
From Common-Place, an Author's needful Bank!
Let them pick one—Et Cætera fills the Blank.

Then, by the Way, ye great Ones, learn to know
How much ye to Et Cætera's Bounty owe.
Entreat him kindly, when ye chance to read,
And, when he means well, trust him as your Creed:
Believe, he lyes not, when he makes you Great,
Or Good, or Learn'd, or of a large Estate:

319

Nor be unmindful to reward the Pen,
That put him there, to make you famous Men.

But Authors, keen on Mischief, and on Blood,
Oft make Et Cætera quit a Cause, that's good,
To war on Satire's and on Slander's Side—
Alas! too oft its Force is thus apply'd!
Reveals he Faults, or does he vent a Curse,
Et Cætera can make it ten times worse.
As for Example, “Sir, the other Day,
“You call'd me Villain, Rogue, Et Cætera:
I (to be ev'n) the Art of Slandering try'd,
And, in your Face, “You Knave, Et Cætera, cry'd.

Hence, O ye Mortals, learn a moral Use—
Never Et Cætera's Honesty abuse:

320

He means no Ill—but oft, alas! betray'd,
He stands, where Sampson's self might be afraid.
Another Moral does my Doctrine teach,
To keep from an enrag'd Et Cætera's Reach.
Is he, when Reason bids him reprehend,
Or to be blam'd, or reckon'd not a Friend?
Your Business, Sirs, is so to speak and do,
That black Et Cætera's may not strike at you.

Say next, my Muse, how useful is his Aid,
Where Words are wanting, either to persuade,
Or reprobate, enlarge, or reprehend,
Elude, confute, exaggerate, defend.
O how he serves, to grace a Title Page!
Commend the Sale! and Reader's Heart engage!
'Tis true, he's often forc'd, alas! to stand,
And skreen the Ignorance of a Point in Hand.

321

The very Pulpit Business for him finds:
He drudges most, to humour lazy Minds!
When Priests forget their Doctrine, or a Text,
Et Cætera passes for what should be next:
A Refuge ready to the most perplex'd!
In this, all Authors, but the Poets, sin;—
They, Men of Conscience! rarely fill a Line
With an Et Cætera—tho' we must confess,
When Reason's wanting, Rhime is little less.

Et Cætera! thou useful, busied, Thing!
Enough I cannot, in thy Praises, sing:
Yet must I stop, for want of Words, to say
How much I am thy Friend, Et Cætera.