The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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THE
PROGRESS OF PEDANTRY. |
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| II. |
 | The Harp of Erin |  |
156
THE PROGRESS OF PEDANTRY.
The wight I sing who thro' Protean
changes
The course of brazen pedantry pursues;
Thro' quibbles, puns, and motley bon-mots, ranges,
(Bon-mots, sage elfs, who con all wayward news,
Subject perdye right arduous to the muse!)
The wight who quite from mortal ken estranges
To study Plato and the Stagyrite,
Ye sprites Batavian, critics deep, avenge his
Dispraises vile; and while all proud I write,
Dub me (illustrious meed!) great “sooterkin of wit.”
The course of brazen pedantry pursues;
Thro' quibbles, puns, and motley bon-mots, ranges,
(Bon-mots, sage elfs, who con all wayward news,
Subject perdye right arduous to the muse!)
The wight who quite from mortal ken estranges
To study Plato and the Stagyrite,
Ye sprites Batavian, critics deep, avenge his
Dispraises vile; and while all proud I write,
Dub me (illustrious meed!) great “sooterkin of wit.”
First in the musty cloisters of a college,
Poor servitor (a hapless state, I ween),
He dives expert in metaphysic knowledge,
And sees (what only by his eye is seen)
Myst'ries of awful depth; dulness their queen;
Like the vain dreams that crown'd the murky foliage
Of Morpheus tree, erst view'd by Venus' sun,
Darkling he ponders on a chair whose two legs
Down topple soon; bereft of sprightly fun,
Bereft of beef and ale,—but not bereft of dun.
Poor servitor (a hapless state, I ween),
He dives expert in metaphysic knowledge,
And sees (what only by his eye is seen)
Myst'ries of awful depth; dulness their queen;
Like the vain dreams that crown'd the murky foliage
Of Morpheus tree, erst view'd by Venus' sun,
Darkling he ponders on a chair whose two legs
Down topple soon; bereft of sprightly fun,
Bereft of beef and ale,—but not bereft of dun.
157
Eftsoons the brother-wizards spy his lore,
A scholarship his golden branch appears;
Fine branch, that gives him, ale unquaff'd before,
October cognamed, hid full many a year.
Now deep Smiglecius, wet with nut-brown cheer,
Doth pose his pate, and bid the sluggard snore:
'Mongst holy fathers spends he the long night,
And livelong day, while others rant and roar.
His tassel'd square cap, comely to the sight,
Doth make him seem like man that necromancer hight.
A scholarship his golden branch appears;
Fine branch, that gives him, ale unquaff'd before,
October cognamed, hid full many a year.
Now deep Smiglecius, wet with nut-brown cheer,
Doth pose his pate, and bid the sluggard snore:
'Mongst holy fathers spends he the long night,
And livelong day, while others rant and roar.
His tassel'd square cap, comely to the sight,
Doth make him seem like man that necromancer hight.
At last, old pedantry's anointed heir,
The Antichrist of learning, he doth rise
Despotic fellow of Miss Alma's chair.
Exub'rant ignorance doth glaze his eyes:
Ignorance that makes a turtle a lord may'r.
With frowzy beard, black mouth, and haggard hair,
The goblin meagre utters maxims wise;
Through logic, physic flounders in despair,
Or tumbles in the depth where error lies:
Awful profound! where dash'd in woeful guise
With cobwebs blind he sleeps; till, miscreant vile! he dies.
The Antichrist of learning, he doth rise
Despotic fellow of Miss Alma's chair.
Exub'rant ignorance doth glaze his eyes:
Ignorance that makes a turtle a lord may'r.
With frowzy beard, black mouth, and haggard hair,
The goblin meagre utters maxims wise;
Through logic, physic flounders in despair,
Or tumbles in the depth where error lies:
Awful profound! where dash'd in woeful guise
With cobwebs blind he sleeps; till, miscreant vile! he dies.
| The Harp of Erin | |