Elogium famae inserviens: Jacci Etonensis, sive Gigantis; or, the praises of Jack of Eton, Commonly called Jack the Giant Collected into Latin and English Metre, after the Manner of Thomas Sternhold, John Hopkins, John Burton, and Others. To which is added a dissertation on the Burtonic Style. By a Master of Arts [i.e. William King] |
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 | Elogium famae inserviens: Jacci Etonensis, sive Gigantis; or, the praises of Jack of Eton, Commonly called Jack the Giant |  |
1
ELOGIUM FAMÆ INSERVIENS JACCI ETONENSIS, &c.
OR, The PRAISES OF JACK of ETON, &c.
2
THE PROLOGUE.
Argument.
What Work the Giant undertook;How he compos'd a Latin Book;
What this and t'other said;
And how (tho' this comes in by chance)
Once on a Time he went to France;
May here be plainly read.
1
Spirit of Sternhold me inspire,And hither deign to bring
Not David's, but thy own sweet Lyre,
While Giant Jack I sing!
2
Or else, that now I may not dream,When I incline to write;
Do thou, who art thy self my Theme,
My Numbers all indite.
4
3
As thou didst erst, to mend the Times,And for our Children's Use,
In Numbers quaint and bonny Rhymes,
Some sacred Staves produce.
4
Jack, who is Giant eke and PrinceOf Eloquence and Wit,
To Glo'ster hied him some Time since,
To shew what he had writ.
5
To Beaux he sheweth and to BellesHis Work in Latin lore;
Who all confess, it far excels
All he had wrote before.
6
But how they prais'd him, should I say,And faithfully report;
It would take up at least one Day,
Now Days are very short.
7
Then unto Oxenford he came,And walked round the Town;
And told all Folk, that his great Fame
Should pull the Doctor's down.
6
8
But here, alack! and well-a-day!He met a strange Rebuff:
Some Friends advis'd him to delay;
Some said, he wrote poor Stuff.
9
Others more cautious, mild and meek,For to prevent all Cavils,
Did counsel him to write in Greek,
As he had wrote his Travels.
10
To tell you how he travell-edHere let me take Occasion;
Altho' I needs must break my Thread,
And lengthen my Narration.
11
Well!—suddenly he did appearIn Dover, Cinque-Port Town;
But I must own it is not clear,
By what Means he went down.
12
From hence he did resolve for France;Not that he there design'd
To learn so late to dress or dance,
But to improve his Mind.
8
13
A while he seem-ed at a StandTo see the Sea so wide;
But waxed bolder, when the Land
He ken'd on t'other Side.
14
Aboard he went: The Wind was South;Which is a Wind gainsaying;
And, blowing full into his Mouth,
It hinder'd him from praying.
15
And so it happ'd, in passing o'er,His Passage was not quick;
And, as he ne'er had been before
At Sea, he was Sea-sick.
16
At length, now maugre all Delay,He did arrive at Calais:
Next Day to Church (it was Sun-day)
He went, but full of Malice.
17
But this, which Malice here is hight,Good Christians Zeal do call;
Which doth provoke our Giant Knight
On Papist Folk to fall.
10
18
And tho' the Pope doth nothing dreadIn this his holy Year;
Yet when Jack's Anglo-Greek is read,
I think he must look queer.
19
Thus doth our Traveller reportHis Deeds so rare and true:
And since he makes his Tale so short,
Great Praise is to him due.
20
How Jack returned, 'tis not plain,And when we do not know;
But surely he came back again,
And came by Sea al—so.
21
This small Digression pray excuse;Since for my Hero's Glory
It maketh much: And so, good Muse,
Let us resume our Story.
22
Now many Councils had been hadIn Oxford and at Eton:
And some declar'd the Book was bad;
And some said, 't was a feat one.
12
23
Sometime our Jack was in a doubt,Since Friends did not agree:
Orders at length were issu'd out,
The Work shou'd cancell'd be.
24
When thrice our learned Landlord H---meAnd four Times eke did cry:
“O do not such fine Things consume!
“For I no Faults espy.
25
“And sure I am, that Jew or Turk,“If Jew or Turk were by,
“Would sore lament, that such a Work,
“As soon as born, should die.”
26
But now observe, in human BreastWhat sudden Turns are seen:
This Book, of all good Books the best,
Had scarce destroy-ed been;
27
When Jack was with himself displeas'd;And saith, repenting, Ne these
Are real Friends: And then was seiz'd
With his old Cacoethes.
14
28
So up he goes to London City:Increased in his Gall:
And now he mindeth without Pity
Unhappy King to maul.
29
And, tho' his Face was erst so ruddy,It waxeth pale with Ire:
And, when he sitteth down to study,
His Breast doth glow with Fire.
30
But not with sinful Fire, or that,Which Ancients call Phoebean;
Which whosoever would come at,
Must pray to heathen Pæan.
31
At length a Book he doth compile,A Latin Book indeed;
And so well fashion'd is the Style,
'Tis pleasant for to read.
32
Who, that hath Cunning, doth not noteThe Print is most correct?
Unlike the Print of Master P---te;
Who doth his Press neglect.
16
33
And now with Labour, Sweat and Pain,This Work will I rehearse;
Report the whole it doth contain,
And do it into Verse.
34
For Verse all Matters doth refine,And makes gay Things more gay:
And if it cometh from the Nine,
It will endure for aye.
18
THE PRAISES, &c.
Argument.
Our rev'rend, learned Giant-Knight,With all his Eloquence and Might,
His own sweet Praise doth sing.
And then the Doctor he accuseth;
And most outrageously abuseth:
Wo! to thee wretched King!
1
Proper Elogiums how to pen,O Ned! to thee I'll shew:
For I alone of learned Men
This curious Art do know.
2
And next, to prove my Strength and Parts,My Judgment and my Sense;
Lo! I produce my keenest Darts,
And come to thy Defence.
20
3
But let me tell the Reason, whyI do not now stand neuter:
You was my Pupil once, and I
At that Time was your Tutor.
4
And thus with me you claim relation,And are for tut'ring fit:
And you'll get Sense by Application,
Altho' you have no Wit.
5
And all shall see, tho' now you're fallen,By my Bons Mots I'll raise you:
And that fine Thing, I spake of Allen,
I'll borrow here to praise you.
6
Thus—Neddy you deserve a MitreMuch better than your Betters:
For, since you are a Letter-Writer,
You are a Man of Letters.
7
There publish'd was in London TownA wretched Pamphlet-Thing;
Which, tho' the Author be not known,
Some say, was wrote by King.
22
8
And I affirm, it was his Book,Or at him I can't come:
And in that Book he hath mistook,
And quamvis put for quum.
9
As me you ever have admir'd,And know by all that past is,
What Stock of Learning I've acquir'd,
How elegant my Taste is;
10
That so well furnish'd is my Head,So honest is my Heart,
In truth it cannot well be said,
Which is the nobler Part;
11
That most sagacious is my Mind,To judge of all Things fit;
That I am gen'rous, courteous, kind,
Of Sapience full and Wit;
12
And, which with Pleasure I report,That I'm so nicely bred,
I could give Lessons to the Court,
And serve in C---t---l's Stead;
24
13
That Latin Writers make me smile,For rival me can no Man,
Who am the only Judge of Style;
And mine is truly Roman:
14
Therefore great Blunders if I cite,You will not wonder surely;
For Hibernisms whoe'er doth write,
He writeth most impurely.
15
And what vile Hibernism, O say,Can fix so much Disgrace;
As when great Quum is forc'd away,
And Quamvis takes his place?
16
But lest too scurrilous I be,Since I must pour out Satire;
I'll bid my Mother speak for me,
I mean my Alma Mater.
17
And, O good Mother, tell this Varlet,That you disown him quite;
That he dishonour'd hath his Scarlet,
A rhyming, monkish Wight.
26
18
Forsooth he would reputed beBoth Orator and Poet:
Poet nor Orator is He;
O Mother make him know it!
19
For as you ken what he'd be at,Be ever full of Strife:
And, when he brings forth any Brat,
O scorn to be Mid-Wife!
20
And now, good Mother, mind your Cue,And right or wrong accuse him:
Say all I dictate, false or true;
You never can abuse him.
21
A while therefore put off your Nature;Call him ten thousand Names;
And be loud-tongu'd, to grace your Satire,
As Billingsgate Fish-Dames.
22
Tell him, he now doth doat with Age,That he's a saucy Loon,
A wretched Stroller on a Stage,
An impudent Buffoon.
28
23
O! Mother tell him, you do hate,And eke I hate them more,
All Writers, who appear so late,
All Men, who're past threescore.
24
As whilom, when I was at Bath,One Nash I there did sting:
For with him I had cause of Wrath
The same, as with this King.
25
For Nash did give me no Offence:But with a Wight to scold
We always have a just Pretence,
If he be waxen old.
26
Besides, that very Nash, (and thatMy Choler did excite,)
Tho' he be black, did wear a Hat,
Which was all over white.
27
And so this King in Oxford Town,As I before have said,
Tho' he be grey, doth wear a Gown,
Which is all over red.
30
28
Proceed we, Mother, give a Stroke,Shall make the old Man shrug,
Call him ('tis Horace's own Joke)
An Out-Law and a Bug.
29
Say, wheresoe'er this Caitiff rules,The Youth must needs be bad;
For those, who are already Fools,
Pardie! he maketh mad.
30
Say, he doth bawl and brawl and bellow;That he's a Common Cryer;
That he's a wrangling factious Fellow,
A Rascal, Cheat and Lyar.
31
And tho' he gained hath some Tools,This never ought to move us:
He's only learned among Fools,
With us he's Homo novus.
32
Say, how the Rostrum he did fillWith Nonsense and with Froth,
Con-trary, Mother, to your Will;
Of this I'll take my Oath.
32
33
Then note, how he did turn about,(For which I could half flea him)
And wink'd, and Neddy pointed out,
Altho' he could not see him.
34
Now this you never must forgive:For what doth so provoke?
Or learned Folk so sorely grieve,
As to be made a Joke?
35
And now I'll second your Efforts,As Lumm doth second mine:
And gird with Names of divers sorts,
And so on yours refine.
36
But think not it proceeds (altho'So furiously I write,
And such hard Words on him bestow,)
From Envy or from Spite.
37
I know what's to my Seniors due,And shew them due Respect:
Can I, who have the Court in view,
My Manners e'er neglect?
34
38
Besides, to prove I'm free from Passion,(As doth become my Coat,)
The Statute anent Defamation
Lo! Word for Word, I quote.
39
Yet, Mother, how shall I enrageThis stupid, senseless Prater,
When he is plac'd on Broughton's Stage,
And made a Gladiator?
40
And here again it doth come pat inTo call him low Declaimer,
A Writer of most barb'rous Latin,
A Fool, a base Defamer,
41
A turbulent and—How he'll look,Whilst I throw so much Dirt on!
And, when he shall have read my Book,
He'll dread the Name of B---rt---n.
42
And, by this Book, I make it plainOf Filth I have great Store;
And, if this Wretch shall write again,
I'll pour forth ten times more.
36
43
For my whole Stock is fit for Use:In this I am no Bravo:
A stronger Compost I'll produce,
An heavy thick Octavo.
44
Thus, to adorn what Jack doth mean,And prove poor King undone;
(But let my Similies be clean,
Because they are my own)
45
When in Romance the Giant's near,A Dwarf proclaims by drumming:
And little Puppets first appear
To tell us, Punch is coming.
38
POSTSCRIPT.
1
Now for the Speech, which doth engageA few unlearned Men,
I'll maul it so in half a Page,
'Twill ne'er be read again.
2
And first, 'tis Impudence enough,And we should all resent it,
With such fair Types to print such stuff,
And so to ornament it.
3
Next, tho' to some he doth appearTo use a Latin Style;
The Blockhead writes, as I can swear,
In English all the while.
4
Therefore I put this Joke upon't,By which all Folk shall rate it;
Bid him, if he'd make Latin on't,
Sit down and re-translate it.
40
5
In fine, since Mortals all are frail,That he may ever fear us,
When mine and Lummy's Lungs do fail,
We've Coadjutors near us.
6
Observe, who acts a rev'rend Don,Confest a Man of Mettle;
My second self, the Tinker's Son,
Beating his Father's Kettle.
7
Say, ye Alumni, what he merits;O give him double Fees!
By sounding Brass who calls up Spirits,
As old Wives call down Bees.
P. S. II.
1
But, if our Alma, too unsteady,Retract her Champion's Lore;
Behold another Alma ready,
With seven wise Sons or more!
42
2
Some loudly, as the Night Birds screech,Profess Dislike; some hint it;
Ev'n little B---y---r damns the Speech,
Because he did not print it.
3
The Author dotes! 'Tis Prose run mad!Two Doctors have agreed it.
And my good Lord declares, 'tis bad,
Altho' he cannot read it.
4
See in this Train Phil-Londinensis!Who proves by solid Reason,
Nor Latin in the Speech, nor Sense is,
And, if there be, 'tis Treason.
5
Phil is my fav'rite, chosen Squire,For fighting, preaching fit:
Panca himself had scarce more Fire,
Nor I have much more Wit.
6
Heark! Heark! how he expounds Amores,And tells us, what hath happ'd:
“Hid in this Word a little Wh---re is,
“And so the Doctor's cl---pt.”
44
7
But, should these Critics not prevail,Nor break the old Man's Heart:
Behold! a furious Knight in Mail
Steps forth to take our Part.
8
A Knight—of ev'ry Appellation!Whilom the Lawyer's Clerk:
Who soon will find some fit Occasion
To stab him in the Dark.
| Elogium famae inserviens: Jacci Etonensis, sive Gigantis; or, the praises of Jack of Eton, Commonly called Jack the Giant | |