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37

CANTO III.


39

TO GUNDIMORE.

Gundimore—Mooncalf—Lion's convalescence—
Fatal—the Lion dies—her husband's presence
A check upon the Queen—the King no more,
She shews herself a fool—breaks out at score—
Her malice and caprice—the Dog's disgrace—
The Fox and Ass and Ox come into place—
Dog sees the Lion's Ghost—a club for faction—
The Lioness and Fox prepare for action.

I

I find it sweet when I have roll'd and wander'd—
To lay myself awhile upon the shelf,
And find my health and spirits not so squander'd
But that I'm still sufficient to myself,
Nor forc'd to weigh wants, wishes, pains or pleasures
According to the standard weights and measures.

40

II

'Tis sweeter that I land upon a world,
Which I may fairly call my own creation,
After the anchor's down and sails are furl'd;
Peopling it from my own imagination:
Filling it with fair forms, excluding tragick,
And gilding all things with this glorious magick.

III

Or if foul fiends and phantoms will intrude,
With reason or upon perverse pretences,
And I must pass a melancholy mood
Through all its vast variety of tenses,
It is some consolation, when they work ill,
To pen my devils in my own small circle:

IV

But this I see is clear, and glad return
To thee, gay Gundimore, thy flow'rs and fountain,
Statue, relief, or cinerary urn.
It seems, as if thy Genius took a mountain
From off my breast; I feel repriev'd from death;
I move more lightly, breathe with other breath.

41

V

Blest spot! within thy walls, I never hear
That Mr. ---'s with Lady ------ a sinner;
Nor what Sir ... What-d'ye-call-him? has a year:
I never sit ten minutes after dinner.
Nor when digestion has her hands full, piece
A half-concocted meal with tea and grease.

VI

But sip my coffee, (Guilford brews no stronger)
Coffee fresh roasted, and not fried in tallow,
And piece my pipe (nor Guilford lights a longer),
Charg'd with El Cham, and spiced with wood of aloe;
So like an old magician, in a murky
Smother of smoke, transport myself to Turkey.

VII

No common jokes I heed or friends who bring 'em,
Such as, I have not room to swing a Cat:
I recollect I never want to swing 'em,
And then the poison'd dart falls blunt and flat.
The worst I do by them, as stories say,
Is give them pepper on a rainy day.

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VIII

I shun whatever causes bile or vapours;
Upon one level runs my lazy life;
I hear not of the stocks, and read no papers,
And vote ambition, but a name for strife.
Yet rise one point above mere passive pleasure;
For here I mooncalf, mooncalf without measure.

IX

“But what is mooncalf?” a strange voice may cry.
I answer, mooncalf's easy contemplation,
Or vacant action: lose no time, but try,
You'll find it a delightful recreation.
But definition, though precise and ample,
Is dark, without the daylight of example.

X

Berni illustrates it, in maddest measure.
He tells you, he was penn'd up with a parcel
Of Lords and Ladies, and some fays of pleasure,
In what may be entitled Lazy Castle:
All guests an amorous fairy ran to earth
And bagg'd, to make her prison'd gallant mirth.

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XI

While these their time in feasts and fooling fleeted,
He (for all had their will) bade make a bed,
Spacious, and comfortable, and well sheeted;
A table by its side: and thus he fed,
And slept by turns. Another was possess'd
By a congenial and well natur'd guest.

XII

Nor lack'd they matter for their waking dreams:
One pleasure was to lie upon their back,
To lie at gaze, and count the ceiling beams,
And mark in which was nail-hole, flaw, or crack;
And which worm-eaten were, and which were sound;
And if the total sum was odd or round.

XIII

Then, when they had for somewhile slept and eat,
The one perhaps would stretch himself, and say,
“D'ye hear those fools above? they're needs well met;
“I mean those rogues and whores who dance the hay.”
With that the friend would cease awhile to chew,
Yawn down his soup, and say—“I—thi**nk—so too.”

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XIV

But other mooncalf's mine: By Chewton's dingle
Or Hordle's cliff, where peevish sea-fowl screech,
I love to pace the solitary shingle,
What time tall breakers tumble on the beach,
Without a book or thought: such rolling base
Fills all my mind, and serves me in their place.

XV

More picturesquely rapt, I sometimes range
And see the mighty stage of ocean clear'd,
As nature were preparing for a change;
Mark the beach'd buss and fish-boat homeward steer'd,
And listen in the distant din and bluster
To th' elements in arms, their march and muster;

XVI

See Solent tossing in distemper'd sleep,
Breathe hard and long, his bosom heaving slow,
Save where to shore the curling waters creep,
There work and whiten, though no tempest blow,
While hatching secret mischief, like a spy,
Th' unsettl'd wind veers restless round the sky.

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XVII

Last, from the south forth sallying, sweeps along
The billows, mixing seas and skies together.
I muse meantime, and mutter from old song
Such snatches, as best sort with the wild weather:
Until, self-fool'd, I almost think my lore
“Hath set the troubled waters in a roar.”

XVIII

Then seek my cell and books, and trim my hearth,
And call to Caliban, to fetch in firing,
A crack-brain'd knave, that often makes me mirth:
But when stern Winter, from our seas retiring,
“Hath broke his leading staff,” I play no more
At Prospero, upon the sea-beat shore:

XIX

But give my fountain vent, and set it spouting,
Or scheme a freeze for some exotic's tub;
Or measure myrtles, which persist in sprouting
Without a sun, or murder obvious grub;
Or heat and hammer some reluctant rhyme;
And so 'mid nothings fleet away my time.

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XX

But I must mooncalf make and talk, alas!
While my great work, my Bestiad, stands still,
And my much suffering brutes are out at grass,
And, what is worse, my Lion-King is ill.
I cannot name his ill; the signs are various:
I only know his state is most precarious.

XXI

But Pidcock says, our Lions and our Apes
(Whether they live at ease in town, or tramp)
Victims of scrofula, in various shapes,
Die of March-winds or of November-damp.
Then who can hope a ruthless clime to brave,
Where Ape and Lion find a kindred grave?

XXII

Trumpets, sound “Boots and Saddle, fold your cloaks,”
And guards, convey your King to Summer's seat!
Where no perpetual drizzle drives or soaks,
Where skies are blue, and suns lend light and heat,
Lend all things quicker life, and brighter dyes:
Your northern glow-worm creeps, your southern flies.

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XXIII

But hold, I doat. For Lion, born at Soffala,
And bred in London, Pisa may be saving;
But for my Eastern Lion, with his scrofula,
To leave Thibet, for Naples, would be raving.
So he, lost Monster! howsoe'er I sigh at
His fate, had better die at home in quiet.

XXIV

The answer to inquiries, made by letter,
By such as could presume to write to the Queen,
Was that his Majesty was getting better;
Such was the sum of every bulletin.
I never knew what remedies were tried;
But he kept getting better till he died.

XXV

For die he did; and now all beasts discover
Their loss, and him their friend and father dub:
They find cold comfort in the Regent Mother,
And can presume poor promise in the cub.
And this expos'd to public notoriety
A fact we often witness in society.

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XXVI

You'll see a Man and Woman pair'd in marriage,
Belov'd by many, and by all esteem'd,
For morals, manners, and becoming carriage:—
The husband dead, the widow, who was deem'd
A paragon of worth, releas'd from rule,
Shews herself what she was, a rampant fool.

XXVII

As little was the Lioness suspected
For what she was, until the Lion died:
Then she broke out at score, and stood detected,
A hash of malice, and caprice, and pride.
She forthwith to her councils call'd the Fox,
Who lin'd his party with the Ass and Ox.

XXVIII

Women are wondrous creatures in their way;
I like them both in muslin and in mercery.
They're Kittens when they sheath their claws and play,
Nymphs for the nonce, and Angels in the nursery:
But they were never meant to rule their betters;
And are too nice and clean to play with Letters.

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XXIX

And bating such as class in the division
Of the She-Lion—bating gross defects,
One general want, the absence of precision,
For grave affairs disqualifies the sex.
One test will try them, rob'd in silk or russet;
Ask them the difference betwixt gore and gusset.—

XXX

—They're all agreed, and each the figures traces,
And tells you one's a gusset, one's a gore,
But when you come to facts and stating cases,
You'll find you are no wiser than before.
Hence bid them name the thing that links the skirts,
Exempli gratiâ, both of shifts and shirts!—

XXXI

—As for the keystone which suspends the sleeves,
That piece of female masonry's decided;
But for the tail-piece which unites two leaves,
On this the world of women is divided:
The point propos'd, I hear a group discuss it,
—“Oh! that's a gore.”—“No, Gertrude, that's a gusset.”

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XXXII

If this breed doubt and discord in a sessional
Circle of women—if they're all abroad
Upon a point, which may be deem'd professional,
How would you have them play at Empress Maude?
Or loosen knots, which ask the eyes of Paley?
We've ten Anne Sewards where we've one Miss Baillie.

XXXIII

But to my tale; there was a current notion,
(An after page will shew, if held with reason)
That the Fox ow'd his eminent promotion
To aiding and abetting foulest treason.
Thus much is certain; that he was instated
Minister, whencesoe'er his fortune dated.

XXXIV

But how dismiss the Lion's friend with honour?
The Court was at a loss—not so the Cat;
She took the graceless embassy upon her,
And would have borne it brutally; but that
The Queen, more kind or cautious, sent the Dog
The decoration of the chain and clog.

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XXXV

Hence Fleece, Annunciation, Garter, Thistle,
And Europe's various decorations date.
The Dog was not a child, who for a whistle
And coral will renounce its noisy hate:
Yet he put on the chain. The Faction say,
'Twas a surprise, and worn but for a day.

XXXVI

The fact is, that whatever face he carri'd,
He felt his deep misfortune, like a Dog;
All day, in a secluded cavern tarri'd,
And tore with alter'd mind his chain and clog.
Then sought the woods, at eve, and all the night
Sate on his tail, and bay'd the moon, for spite.

XXXVII

When lo! before him stood the Lion's spectre,
Where the full sheet of silvery moonshine fell;
Not more confest appear'd the ghost of Hector
When Troy-town blaz'd, as ancient records tell.
“Hear,” he exclaim'd, “my lamentable story—
“Hear, and revenge, if yet alive to glory.

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XXXVIII

“Me the curst Queen and Fox depriv'd of light;
“Thee, from ‘their council,’ the proud pair have banish'd;
“Is this a time to bark, when thou should'st bite?
“My wrongs are thine.” The vision roar'd and vanish'd.
The Dog had sunk into unmeaning sadness;
But the fierce phantom mov'd his blood to madness.

XXXIX

The Elephant led this while, as was reported,
A sort of As-you-like-it life i' the wood;
And thither some caballing beasts resorted,
But these, at first, were mostly of his blood;
Tapir or Mamoth, whose extinguish'd kind
Wakes the brief wonder of the Tuscan hind,

XL

In that glad vale, where gentle Arno flows,
Of him baptiz'd, Arno, who mocks at rushes,
And gaily twines his temples, as he goes,
With wheaten-wreath, thro' which the red grape blushes.
And fondly lingers, as he lov'd to hear
Arezzo's harvest-home, and vintage-cheer.

53

XLI

And hears, before those sounds have died away,
The creaking wains again, the tipsy laughter,
And song, that bursts from farm at fall of day;
Sees the gay dance renew'd, and roof and rafter
(For Musick in this clime beats time to Labour)
Reel to the raving pipes and rattling tabor.

XLII

“Reel to the raving pipes”—and all the rest
I think is good; and all came all together:
And set against ideas ready-drest,
Your critic's censure weighs not for a feather.
“These and St. George to boot,” with rhyme and rattle!
Cousin of Whistlecraft, how stands our battle?

XLIII

Let Scottish loons lay on, and thresh and thump,
And for our flights as brain-sick fancies brand 'em;
I like such thoughts as come, hop, step, and a jump,
And pass so quick you scarce can understand 'em.
They please me as a misty landscape pleases,
Provided that it neither rains nor freezes.

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XLIV

Besides, I like to let my pinnace drive,
Sure she can wear, although she may not tack;
In the bold hope that if I'm left alive,
Some friendly wind or wave may waft me back.
Where was I, though, before this burst irrelevant?
—I recollect: I left off at the Elephant.

XLV

To the Elephant, besides friends of affinity,
A fresh accession, in his exile grew,
Uninfluenc'd by love or consanguinity:
A numerous and ill-assorted crew,
Whom the queen's tyranny compell'd to roam,
And seek revenge, or refuge far from home.

XLVI

And every day still brought a fresh addition;
And now they peopled a long range of caverns:
In these they form'd a club, and brew'd sedition,
As whigs and democrats do here in taverns.
All (what is rare) in the good cause were hearty,
And wanted but a head-piece to the party.

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XLVII

The Elephant indeed was first o' the faction,
Now clubbists call'd; but was a chief for form:
They lack'd another beast, for real action;
‘To ride the whirlwind and direct the storm.’
The Dog was still their hope, the Dog their own,
They laugh'd to scorn the phalanx of the throne.

XLVIII

The Dog and Elephant alone seem'd shy;
But common partizans procur'd a meeting;
And there they lay'd their differences by;
And the spectators of their friendly greeting
Believ'd that they beheld in it a sign
And pledge of ruin to the Lion line.

XLIX

And next the Tiger join'd, who was rejected
As King, when beasts knew not what they'd be at
(Though such a charge both candidates affected)
Rejected on the ground he was a cat.
Such instances are found in every clime;
But I can't stay to screw them into rhyme.

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L

The Lion King, by means of conciliation,
Had almost made the savage brute his friend;
Asking his voice as one of the administration,
Giving him place and pension without end:
But the Queen Regent, of her proper malice,
By childish insult drove him from the palace.

LI

The Dog, in truth, had little satisfaction;
The rest all transport, at the beast's arrival;
The Dog perceiv'd his influence with the faction,
And fear'd in him a formidable rival.
Meantime he feign'd to feel the general glee;
And gave his health, that day, with three times three.

LII

Besides, he'd other reason for vexation:
Thinking himself the founder of his race,
He ween'd the universal canine nation
Must follow, and stand by him in disgrace.
Alas! the thanes fell from him by the dozen;
Foremost and first of these his whisker'd cousin.

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LIII

The Dog, who thought himself a second Daniel,
And to his soul had laid more flattering unction,
Now found himself deceiv'd, in pug and spaniel;
But, when he thought upon the noble function
He had bestow'd upon the faithless Poodle,
He recogniz'd himself a very Foodle.

LIV

Yet all were not so base; the gallant Terrier,
The Mastiff, Sheep-dog, Bull-dog, were true-blue:
The base seceders were the Grey-hound, Harrier,
Pug, Pomeranian, and Bologna crew;
The race, baptiz'd of England's banish'd royalty,
And those of Malta, shame to knightly loyalty!

LV

The club mean while no certain form had taken;
But both its members and its institutions
Were such, and spoke so plainly, as to waken
The Fox's fears, and prompt his resolutions:
And he proclaim'd the bestial throne in danger;
And out-law'd civil foes from rack and manger.

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LVI

All this was brutum fulmen, but 'twas back'd
By real force: so he his troops collected.
The army in a trice was fit to act,
And hop'd to take the field, before expected.
Their manifesto much what Kings employ,
Their orders to “take, burn, stink,” and destroy.
 

See Dr. Darwin's Botanic Garden for the gender of digestion.

A species of Syrian tobacco.

Administered in sandwiches with a small bonus of beef. It produces slight galvanick effects.

The Solent, or Solent-sea, is the channel between the Isle of Wight and mainland.

The lucciola, or fire-fly.

“But I must also feel them as a man.”

The Tuscan peasantry, except in the immediate neighbourhood of Florence, usually dance to the bagpipe. The second wheat-harvest follows close upon the vintage in the Val d'Arno.

See Henry IV. part 2.

‘Foodle, a courtier out of place.’ Dramatis personæ of Tom Thumb.

See the succeeding Canto.