University of Virginia Library

'Tis all a fable, Sirs, you know,
So let us take a turn below:
Elysium, on this fourth of May,
Must look prodigious green and gay;
On earth it 'gins to bud fair weather,
Let us then seek full bloom together.
Breathe but to fancy half a prayer,
Her painted plumes shall waft you there:
For wings the Goddess hath all over,
And freely lends to those who love her.
Then let all present just tack on,
A pair a-piece—the journey's done.
What, tho' the road was under-ground,
Is there a bar can fancy bound?
Lord, what a whirl! at one deep dive,
In this blest region to arrive!
Ere your repeaters could strike seven,
Ladies, I've landed you in Heav'n!
How balmy breathes the atmosphere,
A charming spring below this year;
The wreathed myrtles seem in bloom,
And shed Parnassean perfume:
These verdant trophies must be plac'd
In Paradise by souls of taste,
When like May bees they hither come,
To cull the sweets of Miller's room.
How fresh the fields, how soft the air!
I greet our safe arrival there.

Yet, let us not at random rove,
Our business lies in laurel grove;
And yonder, see it fair, unfold,
Burnish'd with variegated gold;
Or ting'd with a poetic hue,
Clearer than Heav'ns ethereal blue,
All neatly scollop'd at the end,
While rosy ripe, the branches bend
But broader, gloomier shades, you see,
Spread from each scientific tree.
Unlike the blossom'd boughs of wit,
Few are the flouncings they admit:
Their sober shadows chill the ground
With venerable verdure round.

Behold! Pythagoras appears,
The pride of nature's earlier years
Near him the heavenly harp we find,
With which each morn he sooth'd his mind
His golden verses grace his hand,
And there the Samean sages stand;
Th' Italic sect you there behold
Vers'd in the lore we now unfold.
But wherefore these in human shape?
Why not in eagle, emmet, ape?
These still are men; have hands, have feet!
Who hath the system overset?
I thought (and so good folks did you
I see you wonder as you view)
I thought the book worm's shifted soul
Might take apartments in an owl:
I thought to see Dan. Pope a swan,
After his soul had done with man;
And many a tuneful soul, in love,
Cooing soft couplets in a dove;
Huge elephants I thought to find
The lodgings of the learned mind;
Pindar's pure soul in Eagle mould,
And Gray's on the same perch of gold;
Hammond, a turtle should appear,
And Swift, in Satyr shape, be here:
Sages, turn'd moths, I hop'd to meet,
Fix'd still to literary treat;
Tuck'd snug betwixt the leaves where lie,
These grubs of old philosophy.

Thus, Pye, we thought thy doctrine ran,
Brutes were to lodge in soul of man;
And spirits gone, to take the forms
Of letter'd mites, or learned worms,
Or flit about till they could find
A body of congenial kind.
Who knows, but some of those before ye,
Firmly relying on your story,
From Miller's mansion came, with me,
Their old acquaintances to see;
Some lovelorn friend, a Philomel,
A monkey beau, a gold-finch belle.
But not one bird or beast is here,
And thou, thyself, a bearded seer.
Well; be it so. We're glad to find
Thy system but a whisk of wind;
A vapour, which was idly spread
From fume of metaphysic head.
A pretty thing, indeed, if we
Could sport thus with futurity!
If after death, we could with ease
Take any likeness that we please;
Or be compell'd to animate
Some horrid carcase which we hate;
Queer incidents would teem on earth,
From these strange laws of second birth.
Why, at that rate when plagues seem'd o'er;
When factious wife can scold no more;
When, as a woman she was dead,
'Tis but her woman form that's fled;
Thy scheme would bring her home again,
And thus redouble every pain;
Now in a cat a spouse would claw,
Or mouth and chatter in a daw;
Vain wou'dst thou starve her in the cage
In some fresh form—the jade wou'd rage,
Nay more, we all should murderers prove,
And mangle those we really love.
Hold, butcher, hold th' uplifted knife,
In yonder calf—you kill your wife;
Touch not, dear Madam, yonder dish,
Your husband's soul—is in the fish;
There swims an Alderman in gravy,
Dory! the Alderman shall save ye!
That venison, Miss, I beg you'll spare,
Your roving lover's—roasted there!
Oh! pass that brute and chuse another,
In that chaim'd ape, behold thy brother!
Strange turns would happen, friend Pythag.
If true this system of a wag.
Perhaps the babe, but newly born,
A kitten mews the following morn;
Then, if not sav'd by Miss, or Master,
Thou know'st the wawling thing's disaster;
No tabby streaks, alas! avail,
Drown'd is thy infant—in the pail!!
To hunt the hare too were a sin,
Thy sister's soul may pant within;
The very hounds who yelp and tear,
May be first cousins to the hare.
The worm, within his earthly nest,
Might diet on a parents's breast.
Beware too pastimes of the gun,
A guardian in a fox might run;
A husband in a buck might go,
His Lady, weeping, as a doe;
Stretch not the Ox upon the plain,
Pull not the Lion by the mane;
Should a King's soul be in the beast,
It is high treason at the least!
Boy, do not draw your bow and arrow,
You'll shoot a coxcomb through a sparrow;
Child, do not chace that butterfly,
A fop expires if it should die;
You'll hang a lover in your dog,
And stick a Lord Mayor in a hog.
In short, friend Pye, it will not do,
Thy transmigrations are not true!

I own it all, the Sage replies,
(Thou see'st the sacred father rise)
These sallies then of wit forbear,
And bless the cause which brought thee here:
Had I no reason while on earth,
To give th' Italic system birth?
In looking various Nature through,
Man, bird, and beast, appear'd in view;
Men play'd the part of brutes, and then
Brutes better seem'd to me than men:
The ugly soul, in alter'd shape,
Figur'd superior in an ape:
'Twas an amendment of its race,
To give a beau a monkey's face;
Better to let the dull soul pass
Into the body of an ass;
When the false friend a spaniel fawn'd,
Wise was the change, for folks were warn'd,
And whatsoe'r befel the creature,
It made no vacuum in Nature.
When I beheld the miser's heap,
And saw his sordid spirits creep
All jealous, tow'rds his cank'ring hoard,
Which not a charity afford,
I gave the wretch a juster form,
And thrust his soul into the worm!
Or when the epicure I saw
O'er-stepping Nature's modest law,
His soul I give a fitter shrine,
Associate of the gorging swine!
Yet, these are sentiments I long
Have felt to be exceeding wrong;
False was the system I confess,
Of punishment and happiness:
Nor would you find me here to-day,
Wer't not to point a nobler way:
Scarce had I gain'd the Elysian shore—
Farewell—recede—I dare no more—

He's gone, you see! what means the Seer?
And Fancy, too, doth disappear;
What! must we now unguided go,
And puzzle out these paths below?
'Twill prove, in troth, a pleasant tour!
Ah, me! what light begins to pour
From yonder skirtings of the sky;
What god-like form gains on the eye,
Awes, as it moves, each frolic sense,
Commanding love and reverence?

'Tis the blest founder of a nobler plan,
Guardian of glory and the friend of man,
No fairy land, no visionary shade,
We bow before him in the world he made;
'Tis God himself! he opes the book of light,
And lo—all other systems sink in night!
Behold the Christian banner he displays,
And infidels turn converts as they gaze,
Truth holds the golden revelation high,
While chosen cherubs fix it in the sky.
See the thick mist of ignorance is fled,
See gospel radiance rises on the dead;
In antient darkness we no longer go,
Nor wander wilder'd in the shades below!
Vain ev'ry fabled hill, and heav'nly grove,
Virtue and Vice have surer laws above.
In every Christian heart is writ their meed,
'Tis demonstration, and who will may read.