Poetical essays on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

One Summer's Eve, ye Muses say,
At the Declension of the Day;
When from their Coverts Fairies rally,
And muster in some lonely Vally,
O'er Fields, and Hedges nimbly trip,
Or round enchanted Circles skip;
Till sated with nocturnal Sport,
As ancient Chronicles report,

They at some Farmer's Hogshead tipple,
Or pinch at night the churlish People.
When Jack-a-lanthorns in the Air,
Flutter with tremulating Glare,
The wand'ring Light, deluded Swains
Pursue o'er Desarts, Hills, and Plains,
Till in some sedgy Quagmire lost
They vanish with the Moon-light Ghost.

Say how two Pigmies big with Rage
Did terribly this Eve engage:
They too like other Things take fire,
And kindle into wrathful Ire.

That which the Squabble first began
Was who shou'd lord it o'er the Clan:
Each had a Title fair, and clear,
As to himself it did appear;
So to avoid a World of Tattle
They try the Cause in Field of Battle.

Spadillo one my Muse shall name
Long knighted in the Rolls of Fame:
The other Mikro much renown'd
In all the short Republick round
For Prowess, and gigantic Size,
He rose three Foot towards the Skies.
A Kid, or Lambkin cou'd he wield,
And chase the Ravens from the Field:
Nor fled he from the angry Dam,
Or fear'd the horned, warlike Ram.
In a wet Day, or dewy Morn,
He'd travel thro' the Fields of Corn,
Trip thro' the tallest mowing Grass,
And never wet his taller Face.

Yet was Spadillo more heroic,
And had the Courage of a Stoic.
Often he vaunted that true Merit
Lay all in a courageous Spirit;

And tho' he nearer drew to Man,
By the Dimensions of a Span,
Yet real Manhood must consist,
Quoth he, in dint of Sword and Fist.
Thus spoke the puny Prince, not fearing,
To vent such Words in Mikro's hearing:
Who having view'd his Limbs awhile,
Elate, returns a scornful Smile;
Erects his Elbows on his side,
And triumphs in a haughty Stride.

Spadillo fearlesly reply'd,
He shortly wou'd suppress his Pride.

Thus they insult, and brave by turns,
Till in each Breast fell Anger burns.

Resentments rise by slow Degrees,
And swell like an autumnal Breeze;

Which gently first its Progress takes,
And scarce the smallest Scions shakes,
'Till driv'n by some approaching Cloud
It fills its Wings, and roars aloud;
The Tops of stately Cedars bends,
And stubborn Oaks asunder rends.
Or as a little fatal Spark
Creeps unperceived in the dark,
By silent Steps collects new Force,
And lights its own destructive Course;
Till its Foe Water it defies,
And flames, and crackles to the Skies.

Thus in each Breast a Tempest reigns,
And boils within their slender Veins.

And now the fated Time drew nigh,
The Sun had almost left the Sky;
Just on th'Horizon's Verge it stood,
And flusht the Western Skies with Blood.

Some Records scruple not to say,
Strange Omens usher'd in that Day:
That Armies in the Air were seen,
And Spectres stalking o'er the Green.

A melancholy Dale they choose
To grace their dreadful Interviews,
Where Fairies blithe, and Fauns resort,
And where the Pigmies keep their Court.
Hither the puny Champions tripp'd,
For desp'rate Deeds of War equipp'd.
Their Bodies with tough Withy brac'd,
Knit close, and strongly interlac'd.
A Pumpkin's Coat secur'd the Head,
By Art adorn'd, and dy'd with Red.
Adown their Sides sharp Sabres hung,
Shining with fatal Glare, as long
As iron Skewers; but design'd
To stick Flesh of another Kind.

Guns too they bore, and lighted Matches,
Powder, and Ball of fatal Vetches.

Thus Cap-a-pee they both were arm'd,
While all the petty Clan alarm'd
In Troops came tripping o'er the Green
To be Spectators of the Scene.

When Heralds give th'expected Sound,
And shake the Neighbourhood around,
Their Guns the Heroes first explode,
And at a Distance Wounds bestow'd.
Spadillo made the best Discharge,
And seldom miss'd a Mark so large.
The flying Shot, like Storms of Hail,
The brittle Tegument assail.
But Mikro finding all his Strength,
Did nought avail at such a Length,
For closer Fight impatient grew,
And on his Adversary flew;

Who calmly stood, and undismay'd,
Receiv'd him with his glitt'ring Blade.
And now the doughty Fight grows fierce,
The fatal Swords the Armor pierce.
But Mikro guiding well his Stroke,
Spadillo's crested Helmet broke,
Pierc'd thro' the Pumpkin to his Head,
And dy'd it of a diff'rent Red.
But ah! unlucky was the Blow,
And kind, tho' bloody to the Foe,
In Pieces the Toledo flew,
In dismal Spangles to the View.
But Force, nor Fortune ought avail,
When cruel Fate will turn the Scale;
And trivial Accidents oft prove,
The Bane of Heroes, and of Love.

A Cow that Morning chanc'd to stray,
Led by ill Destiny that way;

And dropt behind as she past o'er,
The Food she eat the Morn before;
Who can the dire Mishap relate?
Here fell Spadillo urg'd by Fate,
Then round a Mole-hill stole away,
And Mikro won th'important Day.

Thus in some atmospheric Fleet,
Two Clouds replete with Sulphur meet
Rudely the vap'ry Bodies dash,
The Thunders roar, the Lightnings flash,
They sally, grapple, wheel, and fly,
And chase each other round the Sky;
Till one consum'd in th'other's Fires,
And burst in Floods of Rain expires,
Drops downwards bleeding thro' the Air,
And leaves its Foe triumphing there,
In Peals of Joy, and Streams of Glare.

With daisy Crowns the Pigmies dress'd,
In Swarms around the Victor press'd:

And this Day each revolving Year,
They for their Champion Daisies wear:
Such Numbers rev'lling o'er the Land,
With flow'ry Crowns exulting stand,
The Cows have oft mistook their Meat,
And bit a Pigmy on the Pate.

The regal Pow'r thus Mikro gain'd,
And o'er the petty Cantons reign'd,
Gave to his Subjects Peace and Plenty,
And dy'd, a good old Age, at twenty.