The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge

Including several pieces never before published: with an account of his life and character, by his son, George Owen Cambridge

Cambridge, Richard Owen (1717-1802)

[section]

ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERICK PRINCE OF WALES:

MISCELLANEOUS VERSES,

AN APOLOGY FOR WRITING VERSE;

TO WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Esq.

TO LORD BATHURST.

THE DANGER OF WRITING VERSE;

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN LORD DUCIE AND HIS HORSE.

THE AUTHOR TO THE SCRIBLERIAD.

THE SCRIBLERIAD.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

MISCELLANEOUS VERSES,

ON THE APPOINTMENT OF LORD TEMPLE TO BE FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY.

AGAINST INCONSTANCY;

TO Mr. WHITEHEAD,

EPILOGUE SPOKEN AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE,

A DIALOGUE

TO OZIAS HUMPHRY, Esq.

Mr. WILKES'S SOLILOQUY,

ON PAINTING;

ON SEEING THE HEAD OF Sir ISAAC NEWTON,

TO A LADY WHO WAS VERY HANDSOME,

A PARODY OF ACHILLES' SPEECH,

A PARODY ON “DEATH AND THE LADY;”

AN INVITATION TO A BALL AT LADY COOPER'S:

ANSWER.

THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY.

ON SEEING THIS MOTTO TO A FRENCH PAPER: “DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO PATRIA MORI.”

TO A FRIEND

A FREE TRANSLATION OF BOILEAU;

EPIGRAMS.

2. ON MEETING AT MR. GARRICK'S

3. QUIN'S DEATH.

4. ACTEON NO CUCKOLD.

5. IMITATION OF SHAKSPEARE.

6. THE HISTORIAN IN LOVE:

7. OCCASIONED BY THE CONDUCT OF THE FRENCH TOWARDS THE POPE IN THE YEAR 1794.

8. ON SEEING A DECENT-LOOKING YOUNG WOMAN COME DOWN A STAIRCASE IN CLEMENT'S-INN:

9. TO A YOUNG FRIEND,

10.

10. LINES GIVEN EXTEMPORE

11.

11. THE FOLLOWING FRENCH LINES

12.

13.

13. ON SEEING A TAPESTRY CHAIR-BOTTOM BEAUTIFULLY WORKED BY HIS DAUGHTER FOR MRS. HOLROYD.

14.

14. A TRANSLATION

The WORLD.

[Ye sages say, who know mankind]

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

THE SCRIBLERIAD.

BOOK I.

ARGUMENT

The Poet, in proposing his Subject, discovers Saturn, or Time, to be an enemy to his Hero. Then briefly touching the cause of his enmity, hastens into the midst of things, and presents Scriblerus with his Associates traversing the vast desarts of Africa, in quest of the Petrified City. Saturn, perceiving he has now an opportunity of consummate revenge, by depriving the Hero of his Life, and, what is far more dear to him, his Fame; prevails on Æolus to raise, by a whirlwind, a Storm of sand over his head, and to bury him and his companions at once in oblivion. Scriblerus's speech; he discovers the utmost magnanimity; and scorning so base a death, by an unparalleled presence of mind, erects a structure of all his rarities, and setting fire to it, prepares to throw himself amidst the flames. The god, taking the sacrifice of so large a collection as a full submission, consents to spare his life; but, to frustrate his present expectations, directs the cloud of dust to fall on the Petrified City, which is thereby buried. Scriblerus, unable to survive the loss of his treasures, is prevented from prosecuting his design of burning himself by a miracle, wrought by the interposition of the god Momus. After a fruitless search of six days more, his companions press him to return. Scriblerus's speech to them: he persists in his resolution of continuing the search, till he is dissuaded from it by Albertus, who relates to him a fictitious dream. Scriblerus pronounces an Eulogy on prophetic Dreams. He recounts his own dream; and laments the scarcity and uncertainty of all other modern Oracles. Albertus advises him to consult a Morosoph, whom he describes.

The much-enduring man, whose curious soul
Bore him, with ceaseless toil, from pole to pole,
Insatiate, endless knowledge to obtain,
Thro' woes by land, thro' dangers on the main,
New woes, new dangers destin'd to engage,
By wrathful Saturn's unrelenting rage,
I sing. Calliope, the cause relate,
Whence sprung the jealous god's immortal hate.

Long had his scythe, with unresisted sway,
Spread wide his conquests: All around him lay
The boastful victims that proclaim'd him great,
And earth-born splendor perish'd at his feet;
When, like the Titans, the Scriblerian line
Oppos'd, with mortal arms, his pow'r divine;

From dark oblivion snatch'd the mould'ring spoil,
Work'd as he work'd, and baffled force with toil.
Hence first the god's severe resentment flow'd,
Till ripen'd vengeance in his bosom glow'd.

Scriblerus now had left the fruitful Nile:
(At once the nurse and parent of the soil.)
Say, goddess, say, what urgent cause demands
His dang'rous travel o'er the pathless sands.

In one dread night, a petrifying blast,
Portentous, o'er astonish'd Africk past;
Whose fury, spent on one devoted town,
Transform'd the whole, with Gorgon force, to stone.
Each softer substance, in that direful hour,
Ev'n life, confess'd the cold petrific pow'r.
While yet she plies the dance, the buxom maid
Feels the chill pangs her stiffen'd limbs invade:
Thro' the warm veins of boiling youth they spread,
And fix the bridegroom in the genial bed.

Big with this scene, which all his soul possess'd,
Nine days Scriblerus trod the dreary waste.
When Saturn thus: Behold, this hour demands
The long-stor'd vengeance from my tardy hands.
How oft have Mars and Vulcan swept away
The pride of nations in one wrathful day?
Inferior pow'rs! shall I, their elder, bear
With this rebellious race a ling'ring war?
Or, by one vig'rous and decisive blow,
At once their triumphs and their hopes o'erthrow?

Now, fixt in wrath, the sounding vault he gains
Where Æolus his airy sway maintains.
When thus: Dread monarch of this drear abode,
Hear my request, assist a suppliant god.
If, by my friendly aid, the mould'ring tow'r
Totters, at length, a victim to thy pow'r:
If e'er my influence to thy force was join'd,
O! calm the pangs of my long-suff'ring mind.
Torn from my arms, a daring traitor bears
The labors of a thousand anxious years.
Loaded with these, his sacrilegious bands,
From eldest Egypt, trace the Libyan sands.
Haste, then, the friendly office to perform:
Call all thy winds, and swell th' impetuous storm.
Roll the dry desart o'er yon impious host,
Till, with their hopes, their memory be lost.

So spake the god. Th' aërial king comply'd,
And, with his sceptre, struck the mountain's side.
Loud thunders the rent rock; and from within,
Out rush, resistless, with impetuous din,
The hoarse rude winds; and sweeping o'er the land,
In circling eddies whirl th' uplifted sand.
The dusty clouds in curling volumes rise,
And the loose mountain seems to threat the skies.
Th' astonish'd band behold, with ghastly fear,
Their fleeting grave suspended in the air.
Thus they unmanly, while the dauntless chief
Betray'd no passion but indignant grief;
Which thus broke forth: How bless'd the man whose name
From glorious death assumes its brightest fame.
O! had kind fate ordain'd me to expire,
Like great Empedocles in Ætna's fire!

Had I partook immortal Pliny's doom;
(Had fam'd Vesuvio's ashes been my tomb:)
Or shar'd the fate of yon portentous town,
And stood, my own sad monument, a stone;
Wide o'er the world my spreading fame had rung,
By ev'ry muse in ev'ry region sung.
“A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,
“Un-wept, un-noted, and for ever dead.
Yet—for I scorn the base ignoble death,
Nor will I to vile dust resign my breath,
—Be something done, worthy each moment past,
And O! not unbecoming of the last.
Let the brave phœnix my example be,
(That phœnix, now alas! I ne'er must see)
His pile magnific the great thought inspire,
And my choice treasures light the glorious pyre.
Then will I rise amid the circling flame,
In death a rival to Calanus' fame.

No more shall Greece or Rome their heroes boast,
But all their pride in envy shall be lost.

He said. His friends in pyral order laid
Six ample coffins of the royal dead:
The tree which bears imperial Pharoah's name,
By age uninjur'd form'd their lasting frame.
On these, two mighty crocodiles were plac'd;
O'er which an huge unmeasur'd skin was cast:
This spoil the hippopotamus bestow'd:
Scarce four stout youths support the pond'rous load.
On the broad skin the sage with pious pains
Dispos'd the six great monarchs dear remains;
Sesostris, Pheron, and his virtuous dame,
Cheops, Psammetichus, immortal name!
And Cleopatra's all-accomplish'd frame.
This done, two camels from the troop he slays,
And the pil'd fat around the mummie lays.

Next, ravish'd from the sacred catacomb,
He draws the Ibis from his conic tomb.
Fossils he plac'd and gawdy shells around;
The shield, his cradle once, the structure crown'd.
High on the corners of the ample base
Egyptian sculpture claims an honour'd place.
Here bold Osiris' awful form! appears:
Great Isis there the hallow'd sistrum bears.
Harpocrates, the worship of the wise:
And proud Canopus, conscious of the prize,
The vanquish'd rival of his pow'r defies.
The structure now compleat, the anxious chief
Brings forth the dry Papyrus' sacred leaf:
A sigh from his unwilling bosom broke;
Then thus, collected in himself, he spoke:

Illustrious souls of Munster and of Greece!
Tho' hére at once my hopes and suff'rings cease;
Nor shall I, like my ancestors at home,
My country polish with the labour'd tome;
Nor by my travel (as the Samian sage
Enlighten'd Greece) instruct the present age;
Revive the long-lost arts of ancient war,
The deathful scorpion, and the scythe-girt car;
Or share, with Numa, civic fame, and found
Old Plato's patriot laws on modern ground:
These deep-laid schemes tho' Saturn's wrath o'erthrow,
(His anger rising as my honours grow)
Virtue shall yet her sure reward receive,
And one great deed my dying fame retrieve.

Then, thrice invoking each auspicious name,
Thro' the light reed he spreads the wasting flame;
The melted gums, in fragant volumes rise,
And waft a various incense to the skies;
The unctuous fewel feeds the greedy fire,
And one bright flame enwraps the blazing pyre.
Joy touch'd the victor god's relenting mind,
Who thus address'd the monarch of the wind:
To thee, indulgent deity, I owe
This full submission of the stubborn foe.

See what vast tribute one important hour
Brings to my throne, and subjects to my pow'r.
Enough. This ample sacrifice alone
The thefts and crimes of ages shall atone.
Yet tho' I deign his abject life to spare,
Think not the wretch my further grace shall share.
Nor shall his rebel soul, insulting, boast
Successful toils where armies have been lost.—
O'er the proud town, his vain pursuit, shall fall
Yon hov'ring mass, and hide her long-sought wall;
That no remembrance, but an empty name,
Be left to vindicate her doubtful fame.

He said. Already the tumultuous band,
With prompt obedience, hear their king's command,
Forbear the conflict, and to Eurus yield
The long-contested honors of the field.

Sudden the loaded atmosphere was clear'd,
The glad horizon and bright day appear'd.
Freed from the horrors of impending fate,
Each raptur'd friend salutes his rescu'd mate:
But not such transports touch'd Scriblerus' breast,
His glorious purpose all his soul possess'd.
In vain to deprecate the rash design,
With tears his friends their fond entreaties join.

Alas! he cries, what boots it now to live?
Since I my perish'd treasures must survive.
Cut from my hopes, by this devouring fire,
While yet I may, O! let me mount the pyre.
Again should wild tornados bring despair,
When hov'ring death shall threaten from the air,
This pile consum'd, remains there ought to save
My body from an ignominious grave?
Let vulgar souls for doubtful life contend;
Be mine the boast of an heroic end.

This Momus heard; and, from Olympus' height,
To distant Libya wing'd his rapid flight.
Sudden he joins the rash Scriblerus' side,
While good Albertus' form the god belied.

Instant, behold! the guardian pow'r commands
A spark to issue from the blazing brands;
Which fell, directed, on the sage's head,
And sudden flames around his temples spread.
The subtle god the destin'd moment watch'd:
Swift from his head the hairy texture snatch'd,
And, unperceiv'd, amidst the croud's amaze,
A soaring rocket in the cawl conveys.
The latent fraud, portentous, cuts the air,
And bears, thro' distant skies, the blazing hair.

When thus the god, in sage Albertus' voice:
Behold this wond'rous omen, and rejoice.
Lo! great Scriblerus, what the fates unfold;
At length convinc'd, thy rash attempt with-hold.
The gods declare that thy illustrious head
Such effluent glory shall around thee shed,
As, wide dispensing its eternal rays,
Shall fill th' enlighten'd nations with amaze.

100

The yielding chief observes the heav'n-mark'd road,
Accepts the omen, and obeys the god.

Six anxious days they trace the dreary plains
With fruitless search; so Saturn's wrath ordains.
His murm'ring friends the scant provision mourn,
And urge th' unwilling hero to return.
But stern resentment fires his glowing breast;
While thus his wrath th' indignant sage express'd.

O dastard slaves, from glory's field to fly,
And basely tremble ere the danger's nigh!
Can you, full-feasted, mutter discontent,
Ignobly faint ere half your stores are spent?
Return, unworthy of the gen'rous toil,
Back to the sluggish borders of the Nile.
Faithful Albertus shall alone partake
Those dear-bought honours which your fears forsake:
Cowards, reflect on Cato's steadier host,
Unmov'd and dauntless on this dreary coast;
Like them, in all our travel, have we found
Asps in the well, or serpents in the ground!

101

Have we th' invading basilisk to fear?
Or winged poisons darting through the air?
Yet not these perils shook their firmer souls;
While your resolves a distant fear controuls:
Dampt with the prospect of a future dearth,
Nor dare ye trust the all-sustaining earth.

Nigh to these plains, a nation seek their food,
High in the branches of the lofty wood;
From the green boughs they crop the recent sprout,
And feed luxurious on the tender shoot.

Southward the hard Rhizophagi prepare,
With marshy roots, their coarse yet wholesome fare.
From slimy Nile the rank unsav'ry reed,
A pounded mass, in artless loaves they knead:
And in the sun-beams bake the bulbous bread.

The fierce Bisaltæ milk the nursing mare,
Mix her rich blood, and swill the luscious fare:

102

And the foul Cynocephalus sustains,
With her drain'd udder, the Medimnian swains.

Strange to relate! near fam'd Hydaspes' flood,
For their support they rear the pois'nous brood;
The viper, toad, and scorpion, are their food.

Nay, ev'n in these uncultivated plains,
The swarming locust feeds the hungry swains.
Far-length'ning fires extend along the coast,
And intercept the close-embattled host.
Firm and compact, the troops in deep array,
Urg'd from behind, pursue their deathful way.
The swains with salt their future feast prepare,
And one boon hour supplies the wasting year.

And doubt we now our journey to extend,
While yet our beasts beneath their burthens bend?

103

Whose flesh alone might all our wants supply,
And give not only life, but luxury.
Faint with the distant chase, the Tartar drains
Reviving cordials from his courser's veins!
The hungry trav'ller in the dreary waste
From the slain camel shares a rich repast:
While parch'd with thirst, he hails the plenteous well,
Found in the stomach's deep capacious cell:
Ev'n their tough skins an hard support might yield;
And soldiers oft have eat the stubborn shield.

Thus far the sage. When viewing all around
Their wearied eyes in sleep's soft fetters bound,
Stretch'd on the sand, he leaves the slumb'ring crew,
Himself indignant to his tent withdrew.

Rous'd with the dawn, the good Albertus bent
His careful footsteps to the sage's tent.
Earnest he seem'd, with meditated art,
Some deep important counsel to impart.
When thus: This night when sleep had clos'd mine eyes,
I saw a band of glorious forms arise:
The great Albertus, author of my line,
And all that boast affinity to thine:

104

The princely Scaligers, illustrious name!
Scribonius, and profound Bombastus, came;
When thus thy fire: O! foremost to attend
The glorious labours of thy daring friend,
Be thine the task th' unwelcome news to bear:
Friendship can smooth the front of rude despair.
Yet ever must my son despair to see
Yon city, buried by the god's decree:
Mountains of sand her loftiest turrets hide,
And swell the loaded plain on ev'ry side;
As vain thy search for Heraclea's grave,
Or Sodom sunk beneath th' Asphaltic wave.

He said. I listen'd further yet to hear,
When warlike sounds alarm'd my startled ear.

105

I saw impetuous Scaliger advance:
The rest around him form'd the Pyrrhic dance;
They clash their javelins, ring their clanging shields,
Till sleep unwilling to the tumult yields.
Thus he, dissembling. The fond chief replies,
(While filial raptures in his soul arise,)

Well may'st thou grieve the glorious vision gone,
Tho' much, alas! th' indulgent shades have shewn.
O let me still, on this revolving day,
A grateful tribute to their mem'ry pay:
And to the genius of the horny gate,
Whose friendly pow'r reveals our certain fate.

Oft, by abstruse mysterious types, are told
Those shadow'd truths instructive dreams unfold.

When Media's sleeping monarch saw the maid
A wond'rous deluge o'er his empire spread;

106

How plain that emblem pointed him the place
From whence should issue his severe disgrace!

Olympia's pregnant womb when Philip seal'd,
The mystic dream young Ammon's soul reveal'd.
Stamp'd on the wax the victor lion shew'd
The warlike genius of the embryo god.

Thus has a figur'd omen, dark, and deep,
To me been painted by the pow'rs of sleep.
The fav'rite bird of Pallas I beheld
Search, with unwearied wing, the new-reap'd field:
Fatigued, at length, a lurking mouse he spies,
And eager, to the long-sought quarry flies;
Thither, by chance, the reaper bent his way,
And, with a wheat sheaf, whelm'd the trembling prey.
Th' Athenian bird his frustrate labor mourn'd,
Flew from my sight, but soon again return'd,
When, wond'rous to relate, he thus began,
(An owl in figure, but in voice a man;)

107

I come, no vulgar vision of the night,
The gods direct my emblematic flight,
In my sage form thy rev'rend self appears:
Thy vain pursuit the vanish'd mouse declares.
This said, the feather'd omen seeks the skies:
And, instant, downy sleep forsook my eyes.
I deem'd the phantom by the god design'd,
To shake the steady purpose of my mind.
Now have thy words my vain suspicion eas'd,
Confirm'd my soul, and ev'ry doubt appeas'd.
But whither next the heav'n-taught course to steer,
Nor omens point, nor friendly shades declare.
And now, alas! in these unhallow'd days,
No learned priest the sacrifice displays:

108

Inspects the victim with prophetic eyes,
Or reads the vagrant lessons of the skies.
Nor sacred oracles afford their aid;
Dumb is the Pythian and Cumæan maid.
O! had we liv'd in that auspicious age,
When roam'd the Trojan chief and Grecian sage,
Some friendly Helenus we then had found,
Or Anius, skill'd each omen to expound.
Perhaps to hell's dark mansions we had gone,
And fam'd Tiresias had our fortunes shown.
Now nought remains our dubious course to guide,
Since the Virgilian lots in vain were try'd.

109

Then say, my friend, what counsel canst thou find,
To fix the purpose of my wav'ring mind?

Albertus then: Alas! too just thy grief!
O might my heart suggest the wish'd relief!

The sage Mahometans have ever paid
Distinguished honours to the fool and mad:
And wisely they. For oft, when reason wings
Her flight, superior to terrestrial things,
The thoughts beyond the starry mansions rove,
Blest with the converse of the gods above;

110

And thence to mortals' less exalted sense,
Instructive truths, oracular, dispense.

At Cairo sojourns a phrenetic sage,
Inspir'd with all this theomantic rage.
I mark'd where'er the Morosoph appear'd,
(By crowds surrounded, and by all rever'd,)
How young and old, virgins and matrons kiss'd
The footsteps of the blest gymnosophist.
The eager bride touch'd each propitious part
That best prolific virtue might impart.

111

Whilst on the sacred raptures of his tongue
The list'ning multitudes, astonish'd, hung.
Then haste we back to Cairo, I advise,
And let the fool give counsel to the wise.

An hope-born smile the Chief's assent express'd,
And drove despair, sad inmate, from his breast.

Fir'd with the wish'd return, the wearied band
With shouts of joy receive the glad command:
Already slighting the diminish'd toil
Of scorching Sirius, and the faithless soil.

THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

Saturn.

113

BOOK II.

114

ARGUMENT.

The Second Book leads the imagination, at once, from the barren desert to the most fruitful spot in the world, the ancient Arsinoe, now Faiume. Here Scriblerus meets a company of Pilgrims, formerly his father's friends, who desire him to relate his whole adventures to them. He begins his Narration. Gives an account of his waiting three years in vain at Naples to see the Eruption of Vesuvius. Purposes going to Jamaica in hopes of seeing an Earthquake. Sails with his friends, is driven by contrary winds below the Cape of Good Hope. Arrives at a most delightful country; which is described: but suddenly flies from it, moved by a fatal misinterpretation of an Oracle. Scriblerus, continuing his Narration, describes a wonderful coast, the surprising appearance of which strikes a damp on his companions. Deidemon and Thaumastes are chosen by lot to reconnoitre the country. At their return, they give a very imperfect account of their adventures, being stupified by excessive fear. Scriblerus sets out alone on a farther Discovery.

115

And now, ten days in tedious travel past,
At length they quit th' inhospitable waste.
As Zembla's sons, benighted half the year,
Exult when first the cheering rays appear,
From the deep gloom when long-lost scenes arise,
And earth and gayer heav'n salute their eyes:
Such joys diffus'd Arsinoe's fertile plain,
Such rapture seiz'd the late dejected train.

From the tall hills, with transport they command
The vast extent of that wide-water'd land:
Where the same course sev'n copious rivers take,
And, Mœris, fill thy deep capacious lake.

116

They leave the spacious lab'rinth's ruin'd state,
And, cheerful, enter proud Faiume's gate:
When, lo! to meet them came a solemn band,
The pilgrim's staff each bearing in his hand;
Their hats with scallops grac'd; the Flemish green,
In numerous crosses, on their robes was seen.

Who thus: Hail, great Scriblerus, nor disdain
A friendly welcome to this reverend train.
By adverse fates and ceaseless tempests tost
From sad Judæa's desolated coast,
To Alexandria's port our course we steer'd,
And there the hallow'd footsteps we rever'd
Of princes, prelates, saints, and martyrs dead,
Who greatly triumph'd, or who bravely bled.
There first with joy we heard thy spreading fame;
And thence to welcome thy return we came.
But, generous sage, sincere and free declare,
Are you, of manly growth, Scriblerus' heir?

117

For sure his features in your look appear,
And in the son the father we revere.

Oft have I heard from my chaste mother's tongue,
That from the great Cornelius' loins I sprung,
The sage replies: but O! what mortal knows
Th' undoubted sire to whom his birth he owes?
O! might I now, tho' born of meaner race,
With him the mazy paths of wisdom trace,
With him unfold the metaphysick store,
And science, thro' each dark recess, explore—

118

But fate pronounc'd th' irrevocable doom,
And death has sunk him in the silent tomb.
Behold me now, deserted and forlorn,
The sport of fortune and her abject scorn:
Weary'd with woes, and old in travel grown,—
Still flatt'ring hope reserv'd yon wond'rous town—
Thither we journey'd; but the gods ordain
Our search successless and our labour vain.

Then they: With sympathetick grief we moan
Thy fate, alas! so sad, so like our own.
Yet say, Scriblerus, since thy daring soul,
Superior still to fortune's vain controul,
Has many a glorious enterprize atchiev'd,
New arts invented and lost arts retriev'd;
Say, shall thy friends thy various labours hear,
And thy sage conduct glad their longing ear?

Scriblerus then: Ah! seek not now to know
A series of unutterable woe.
For, lo! to Thetis' bed the god of day,
Thro' western skies, precipitates his way.
Give we to feast and sleep the peaceful night—
To distant Cairo, with the morning light,
Our course we speed: but if so great desire
To hear our fates your friendly breasts inspire,
As on the peaceful bosom of the Nile,
We sail, the tedious passage to beguile,

119

Your fond request, tho' hard, shall be obey'd,
And every debt to sacred friendship paid.

Soon as the sun th' enlightened vault ascends,
Th' impatient chief embarks his ready friends.

Now all in silence eyed the godlike man,
Who thus with tears th' eventful tale began.

From native Albion, a selected band,
We spread the sail and reach th' Ausonian strand:
The sacred flame which Pliny's breast inspir'd,
Urg'd our resolves, and every bosom fir'd:
But our dull stars th' expected boon delay,
And three slow years steal unimprov'd away.
Tho' heaving fire Vesuvio's womb distends,
No bursting deluge o'er the plain descends.
—O! curst impatience! O! severe disgrace!
Scarce had we left, unwilling left, the place,
When forth the flames, with wild explosion, broke,
The lab'ring mountain to its basis shook:
A molten deluge cover'd all the ground,
And ashes fill'd the hemisphere around,

Unmov'd, tho' baffled, we renew our toil,
And seek, Jamaica, thy unstable soil.

120

Where mountains rock, where yawning caverns roar,
And bellowing gulphs sulphureous torrents pour;
Majestic scene! whose aweful glories fire
Our drooping souls, and kindle new desire.
With prosp'rous gales, we reach Madeira's height,
And load delicious wines, a welcome freight.
Thence, o'er the bosom of the boundless sea,
Twice ten days blest pursue th' unruffled way;
When lo! deep clouds, with sable horrors rise,
And, low'ring, menace from the western skies;
Impetuous winds old ocean's face deform,
The vessel drives before the swelling storm;
Six long tempestuous weeks, by Corus tost,
And borne far distant from the wish'd-for coast.
Now as beneath the sultry line we run,
We bear unshaded the meridian sun.
Now far beyond the tropick as we stray,
Mourn the weak influence of th' obliquer ray.
Twice had the changeful moon full orb'd her light
Display'd; twice yielded to the shades of night;

121

When lo! at once the boist'rous winds subside,
At once abates the restless rolling tide.
Soft Zephyr rising o'er the wat'ry plain,
Fans with his gentle wing the level main;
When now Aurora, with auspicious light,
Reveals a beauteous harbour to the sight.

Bewitching scenes encompass us around,
And the whole region seems enchanted ground.
Gold buds and branches on the radiant trees,
And melting musick floats on ev'ry breeze.
From flowers, unfading thro' the varied year,
Incense and ambergris perfume the air;
Eternal verdure clothes the cloud-topt hills,
In tuneful measure fall the tinkling rills;
Rubies and em'ralds load the teeming groves,
Where vocal phœnixes record their loves.
The boars their sides in crystal fountains lave,
The painted panther swims the briny wave.

122

In myrtle groves the wanton dolphins play;
While sea-calves o'er th' enamelled meadows stray.
Around our ships the warbling mermaids glide,
And with their musick sooth the swelling tide.

Th' enchanting scene my ravish'd crew possest,
And calentures had seiz'd on ev'ry breast;
This I perceiv'd, and sudden gave command
To drive the vessel on the oozy strand.
Ere yet they touch'd the shore, th' impatient crew
O'er the high decks with heedless rapture flew.
And wand'ring onward, with amazement, found
A well-spread table on the verdant ground.
On beds of fragrant roses we recline,
And quaff full bowls of unexhausted wine.
Indulge with various meats unsated taste,
And, thoughtless, revel in the rich repast.
When issuing from the woods on either hand,
In martial guise advanc'd a num'rous band.

123

In martial guise they march'd: ill-judging fear
Misdeem'd the pomp inhospitable war,
Unmindful of Ascanius' harmless train,
And bloodless battles on Sicilia's plain.
Hence my rash hand, by fatal fury led,
Drew show'rs of woes on each devoted head.

Firm and compact in three fair columns wove,
O'er the smooth plain, the bold Acrosticks move;
High o'er the rest the tow'ring leaders rise
With limbs gigantick and superior size.
They lead the van, unmov'd in the career,
And Bout-rimeès bring up the lagging rear.

Not thus the looser Chronograms prepare,
Careless their troops, undisciplin'd to war;

124

With ranks irregular, confus'd, they stand,
The chieftains mingling with the vulgar band.

But with still more disorder'd march, advance
(Nor march it seem'd, but wild fantastick dance)
The uncouth Anagrams, distorted train,
Shifting, in double mazes, o'er the plain.

From different nations next the Centos crowd;
With borrow'd, patcht, and motley ensigns proud.
Not for the fame of warlike deeds they toil,
But their sole end the plunder and the spoil.

125

Next, an uncertain and ambiguous train
Now forward march, then countermarch again.
The van now first in order, duly leads,
And now the rear the changeful squadron heads.
Thus onward, Amphisbæna springs to meet
Her foe; nor turns her in the quick retreat.

To join these squadrons, o'er the champaign came
A num'rous race of no ignoble name;
The mighty Crambo leads th' intrepid van:
The rest a forward loud industrious clan.
Riddle, and Rebus, Riddle's dearest son;
And false Conundrum, and insidious Pun;
Fustian, who scarcely deigns to tread the ground;
And Rondeau, wheeling in repeated round.
Here the Rhopalics in a wedge are drawn,
There the proud Macaronians scour the lawn.

126

Here fugitive and vagrant o'er the green,
The wanton Lipogrammatist is seen.
There Quibble and Antithesis appear,
With Doggrel-rhymes and Echos in the rear.

On their fair standards, by the wind display'd,
Eggs, altars, wings, pipes, axes were pourtray'd.

Alarm'd and all-suspended with the sight,
Nor yet determin'd to retire or fight,
A wond'rous omen from directing fate,
Fix'd our resolves, and urg'd our quick retreat.

As on the ground, reclin'd, Thaumastes lay,
Fill'd with the feasting of the genial day;
(Uncertain if some godhead sway'd his mind,
Or mov'd by chance) he broke the walnut's rind:
Fear and amazement seiz'd his shuddering soul,
When for the nut, he found a scribbled scroll.

127

He trac'd the characters with secret dread;
Then thus aloud the mystick verses read.

In love the victors from the vanquis'd fly,
They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.

Silent a while and thoughtful we remain,
At length the verse unanimous explain;
That where no triumphs on the conquest wait,
Ev'n virtue's self and honour bids retreat,
So Jove declares, so wills eternal fate.
With eager zeal, we hoist the spreading sails,
And, from the deck, invoke the tardy gales.
When now the shore the fancy'd armies reach,
And form their mimick legions on the beach.
Insulting shouts the deafen'd sense invade,
Sarcasms and scoffing taunts our fears upbraid.

I catch my bow, (the same which Aster bore
'Gainst the rash monarch on Thessalia's shore,)
The string with meditated vengeance drew,
And pierc'd a leader of th' acrostick crew.

128

The giant scoffer falls consign'd to death,
And thus, prophetic, sung his parting breath:
C oward and slave, ne'er shalt thou reap the fruit
O f thy long labours and severe pursuit.
W ith sorrow shalt thou leave thy suff'ring crew,
A venging justice shall their steps pursue,
R ude draughts of iron shall they drink at need,
D rink, and deplore thy rash inhuman deed.

These threats denouncing, in the dust he rolls:
Cold thrilling fear invades our troubled souls.
Prostrate, we supplicate all-ruling Jove,
Th' impending curse, relenting, to remove.
With sad reluctance leave th' enchanting plain;
And anxious plough the hoarse-resounding main.

Nine tedious days a doubtful course we steer;
The tenth, bold rocks and tow'ring cliffs appear.
The least, as Atlas tall, o'erlook'd the strand:
Nor shapeless they, but shap'd by nature's hand.

129

Some like smooth cones aspiring to the skies,
Others aloft in spiral volumes rise.
These seem vast cannon planted on the shore,
Well-turn'd and hollow'd with cylindrick bore.
Here columns or tall obelisks appear;
There a vast globe or polish'd hemisphere.
Tow'ring on high proud battlements are seen:
And saliant bastions bear a warlike mien.

What breast, unmov'd, the dreadful sight could bear?
What eye behold it unappall'd with fear!
I strove their drooping courage to awake,
And thus, with animating accents, spake:

See, dear companions, what the gods have giv'n,
And praise th' indulgence of propitious heav'n.
How great the scene, where'er we turn our eyes!
The prospects various all, yet all surprize.
Ply well your oars to gain th' auspicious land;
And raise a grateful altar on the strand.
Then let some chief, by lot decreed, explore
The latent glories of this wond'rous shore.

Thus I, dissembling; but pale fear possest
Each livid cheek, and chill'd each manly breast.
Fresh in their mind th' Acrostick's threats they dread,
And curse, denounc'd on their devoted head.
Still I persist, and urge the hard command:
With slow reluctant steps, they press the sand.

130

In equal parts I strait divide the crew:
Then in the urn the lots inscrib'd I threw,
And shook the hallow'd vase, till chance decreed
The sage Deidemon for the hardy deed:
And join'd the brave Thaumastes to his side,
By social love and like pursuits ally'd.

Sheath'd in bright arms, o'er the suspected plain,
Pensive they march, and pensive we remain.
In vain th' enliv'ning banquet's charms we try,
In vain the mirth-inspiring goblet ply.
Dread and despair each rising joy controul,
And horror, brooding o'er the sparkling bowl.
Nor less in vain we seek the balm of sleep,
For still the wretched painful vigils keep.
Then first, my friends, I own, this manly breast
Damp wav'ring doubt, fear's harbinger, confest.
When, all-propitious to my raptur'd eyes,
I saw Priapus' awful form arise;
And thus the god: Dispel this causeless dread;
For know, an hospitable land ye tread.

131

What tho' the chiefs report a dreadful tale,
Fearless do thou the glorious task assail.
Nor war, nor hostile perils shalt thou prove:
But the soft blandishments of proffer'd love.
Myself the powerful passion will impart
To the fond queen, and melt her yielding heart:
Thy manly limbs with heighten'd charms I'll grace,
And breathe resistless beauties o'er thy face:
As artful sages give the modern stone
Time's honour'd stains, and glories not its own;
The canker'd coin with verdegris incrust,
Or grace the polish'd bronze with reverend rust.
With confidence proceed, my ready pow'r
Shall never fail thee in th' important hour.

He said, and vanish'd at th' approach of morn:
When, lo! the chiefs with downcast look return.
Aghast, with speechless tongue and bristling hair,
Deidemon stood; an emblem of despair.

132

Scarce could Thaumastes o'er his fears prevail:
Who thus, at length, brought out the broken tale.

We went, Scriblerus—(such was thy command)
Thro' yon lone rocks to view this wond'rous land—
Long had we roam'd—sudden a noise we heard
Of mighty wings—and saw a monst'rous bird.
I grasp'd my jav'lin, startled at th' alarm,
But sage Deidemon stopt my desp'rate arm.
Oh, well restrain'd! for, by its nearer flight,
An human face, conspicuous to the sight,

133

And human limbs appear'd.—With wild amaze,
Astonish'd at the dire portent, we gaze,
And meditate return—when, from the flood,
(For near a spacious river's bank we stood)
A bark emergent rose; with oars well-tim'd,
Cut the smooth wave, and o'er the surface skim'd.
Then sunk again, but still her course pursu'd,
Clear was the stream, and all beneath we view'd.

Swift we retire, with oft-retorted eye,
Lest magick charms o'ertake us as we fly.
Long unpursued we run, at length retreat
Where an arch'd rock affords a welcome seat.

134

Chearful we enter, but within behold
A serpent shape with many a jointed fold.
Each friendly pow'r invoking to my aid,
The sleeping form, intrepid, I invade.
Direct my faulchion on the monster's hide,
And in the midst his bloodless frame divide.
But soon, repentant, my rash deed deplore,
For lo! two foes vindictive on the floor;
Both rear the horned head, and both assail
With the sharp terrors of the pois'nous tail.
Again our trenchant blades aloft we heave,
Dauntless again the sever'd bodies cleave,
And triumph in the deed. Alas! how blind,
How fond, how prone to err, the human mind!
How vain our joy! for, (such the will of fate)
Our conquests still new enemies create.
Again th' unequal combat we renew,
Again, surpriz'd, encrease the reptile crew.

135

And now a numerous fry o'erspread the ground,
By slaughter rais'd, and fertile from the wound.

O! for that warning voice which Cadmus heard,
When from the glebe his growing foes appear'd!
Or the strong charms of Colchis' pow'rful maid,
In like distress the valiant Jason's aid!

A while retreating we maintain the fight,
Then quit th' enchanted cave with sudden flight:
And chear'd, th' auspicious land-marks to review,
Thro' the known path, our glad return pursue.

136

He ended, trembling: strait I grasp'd my sword,
And bade them follow. At the dreadful word,
Fear and confusion ev'ry breast invade;
All join the desp'rate purpose to dissuade;
But chief Thaumastes.—Hence; ignoble slave,
Stern I reply, whose fears infect the brave.
You, heroes once, inglorious, here remain,
Aw'd by his words, a dastard, abject train.
Alone I triumph, if my arms succeed,
Or perish single in the hardy deed.
Indignant thus, confiding in the god,
O'er the drear plain, with haughty steps I strode.

THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

Medea.

137

BOOK III.

138

ARGUMENT.

A Priestess of Rumour relates to Scriblerus the history of the Queen of the country. He is struck with the beauties of an elegant temple, which he describes, as also the Queen's magnificent entry and her personal endowments. He makes himself known to her. She professes her regard for his family and for his own merits, to which she is no stranger: after which she invites him to a partnership of her bed and throne. Scriblerus consults with Albertus, and is advised by him to accede to her proposal of marriage: Saturn endeavours to deter him from it by fearful dreams and omens: notwithstanding which the marriage is celebrated, but the consummation prevented by the flight of two owls, which, added to the foregoing portents, intimidate the hero to that degree, that he resolves to fly from his beloved Queen. Her reproaches and entreaties prevail on him to return, but not till her unhappy impatience has impelled her to give herself a desperate wound, upon which Saturn cuts her fatal hair and she dies.

139

Haply I stray'd, where midst the cavern'd cells
Of vocal cliffs, fantastic Echo dwells.
My way through serpent windings I pursu'd,
Which deep within the hollow'd rocks were hew'd.

140

The walls, inclining with an inward slope,
End in a narrow groove and join at top.
From side to side reverberate, they bear
The quick vibrations of the trembling air;
Hence weakest sounds the vaulted cavern shake,
And whispers deaf'ning on the senses break.
The cave of Rumour. O'er a spacious vent,
With head reclin'd, her list'ning Priestess bent.
(The Pythian thus imbib'd th' inspiring steam;
Thus gave Trophonius the prophetic dream.)
Swift from her seat, at my approach, she sprung,
And thus she spake with more than mortal tongue.

Thrice welcome, wand'rer, to this happy land,
The work and glory of its Sov'reign's hand.
Our Queen, with kind compassion, all receives,
But the first honours to the stranger gives:
Herself a stranger once, tho' here she reigns:
A distant exile from her native plains.

141

Northward as far beyond the torrid zone,
Her husband held an indisputed throne.
Till restless faction, big with murd'rous strife,
Depriv'd th' unguarded monarch of his life.
Dread and despair the drooping Queen affright:
Grief wastes the day, and ghastly dreams the night.
Before her eyes her husband stood confest;
Rear'd his pale face, and bar'd his bleeding breast.
At length advis'd her flight, but first reveal'd
Where all his choicest treasures lay conceal'd.
A chosen band the sacred stores convey
O'er the rude waves; a woman leads the way.
This isle she chose, her growing empire's seat;
Here she enjoys an undisturb'd retreat:
Here, where no pitchy keels pollute the sea,
Nor restless commerce ploughs the wat'ry way.
The Priestless thus my longing bosom fir'd—
I left the tale unfinish'd and retir'd.

Soon I descry'd where, near a cypress wood,
A dome, upheld by stately columns, stood:

142

Where brass and variegated marbles join
Their mingled beams to grace the splendid shrine.
Here glitt'ring ores their native charms unfold;
There yellow mundic shines like burnish'd gold.
Sulphurs and marcasites their beams display,
And lucid crystals rival Titan's ray.
Rang'd as a cornice, various fossils stand,
The mimic sport of nature's wanton hand.
Mitre and turban-forms the work adorn,
Triton's huge trump, and Ammon's boasted horn.
Here fibrous plants with many a branching vein,
And there the curious texture of the brain.
But how, O! how shall fancy's pow'r recall
The forms that breath'd along the pictur'd wall!

143

Where in Mosaic wrought, the shells surpass
The pencil'd canvass or the sculptur'd brass.
Dearest to nature first are seen a race
Who bear the marks of her peculiar grace.
Here griffons, harpies, dragons mix in flight,
Here wild chimera rears her triple height.
In glowing colours mighty Geryon stands,
And bold Briareus wields his hundred hands.

While thus my soul these empty shades possest,
What sudden pangs invade my heedless breast!
When, in blest shells of liveliest hue pourtray'd,
I saw fair Lindamira's form display'd:
I started at the sight: adown my cheek
The swelling tears, in rapid torrents break:
Then thus: What region in the world but knows
My hapless passion and illustrious woes?
Lo! as in life, the dear sad object stands,
And makes my suff'rings known in distant lands—
When sudden, ent'ring at the lofty gate,
The Queen herself approach'd in solemn state.

144

Her head th' inextricable Plica grac'd:
Whose folds descending, veil'd her beauteous waist,
Then length'ning downwards, form'd a regal train,
And swept, with awful majesty, the plain.
On her fair front a goodly horn she bore:
But nor the crown or gay tiara wore.
Frequent and thick, o'er all her limbs were seen
Th' elongated papillæ of the skin.
Graceful excrescence of resplendent horn,
Like the shagg'd velvet, or the new-reap'd corn.
Never but once beheld I, till that hour,
Such finish'd charms. I gaze and I adore.
She mounts the throne, and hearing ev'ry cause,
Directs her judgment by great Nature's laws.

145

Where nice distinction doubtful claims divides,
Duly she weighs, impartial she decides.
To her the vegetable kingdom owes
A sure protection from invading foes,
Who oft the sprouting coral strive to gain,
And earth-born mandrake, from its rightful reign.

Now solemn heralds led me to the throne,
And bade my nation and my name make known.
Thus, to the monarch, I my speech addrest:
O! foremost still to succour the distrest,
From northern isles, from a far distant strand,
By adverse winds, I tread this pleasing land.
Behold Scriblerus, no ignoble name;
(Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.)
Now a sad fugitive, and tempest-tost,
Driv'n with confusion, from each neighbour coast,
O! grant the refuge of thy friendly shores:
Supply with bounteous hand our wasted stores:

146

Else rashly we attempt th' unmeasur'd way,
And death awaits us on the barren sea.

Elate with pleasure, stagger'd with surprize,
So wills the mindful god, the Queen replies,
Are you the great Scriblerus, dear to fame,
Who, from high Pliny trac'd, your lineage claim?
The same whom learned Barthius' daughter bore
To fam'd Cornelius on the British shore?
I lov'd old Gaspar; greatly lov'd thy sire:
Nor less thy virtues, courteous guest, admire.
Accept that name; and, if thou not disdain,
Friend to my soul and partner of my reign.

Then I. Ah! cease, too gen'rous, to o'erpow'r
Thine humblest slave with all thy bounty's store.
Such godlike blessings from so fair a hand,
Eternal praise and gratitude demand.

147

While on earth's surface fruits and flowrets blow
And fossils vegetate in beds below,
In coral polypes haunt, in snow the bear,
Whales sport in seas, and eels in vinegar,
While bright volcanos spout eternal flame,
So long shall last the glories of thy name.

I said,—the gracious monarch instant sends
The wish'd refection to my dubious friends:
But from their longing arms their chief detains,
And strives to bind with love's resistless chains.
At her desire the series I relate
Of my long wand'ring and disast'rous fate.
Deep sunk my suff'rings in her yielding heart,
Transpierc'd with love's inevitable dart,
And fix'd as some impal'd and helpless fly,
Who bleeds a victim to the optician's eye,

148

Before his glass spins in repeated round,
And strives to flutter from the deadly wound:
Firm and unmov'd the speculative sage
Eyes the vain efforts of its insect rage.

Soon as the morn dispens'd her earliest ray,
Strait to the shore I urg'd my speedy way.
Dissolv'd in tears my anxious friends I found,
The untouch'd cates neglected on the ground.
As when some ass (hir'd haply to repair
The riot-wasted rake or love-sick fair)
From her fond young, the tedious morning strays,
Driv'n thro' some pop'lous city's crouded ways;
Her absence, pent in dismal cots, they mourn:
But wild with rapture, at her blest return,
They leap, they bound, their braying fills the plain,
And the glad hills repeat the harmonious strain.

149

So round me prest, now rescued from despair,
Th' exulting crew, my fortunes I declare.
The welcome stores they to the bark convey:
Then chearful follow where I lead the way.

Soon as we reach'd the dome, the Queen invites
To the spread feast and hospitable rites.
Again she asks to hear the moving tale,
Again big tears her melting heart reveal.

Now all to rest retire: but sleep denies
His balmy blessings to my anxious eyes.
Long ere the sun had left his eastern goal,
Thus to Alburtus I disclose my soul.

Seest thou, with eyes like mine, this matchless Queen,
Her rare endowments, her majestic mein?
With ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace is join'd,
And as her form, prodigious is her mind.
What gen'rous proffers has her bounty made,
Of half her throne and half her blissful bed!
Yes, I confess, since Lindamira's love,
No other charms, like these my breast could move:
The same their merits, my desire the same:
I feel rekindling all my former flame.
Were I not bound by ev'ry sacred vow,
Never again at Hymen's shrine to bow,

150

Perhaps her peerless beauties might controul
The weak resolves of my unstable soul.—

While my rack'd breast these struggling tumults shook,
Thus on my speech the kind Albertus broke;
Say, will you still a joyless wanderer rove,
And never taste the soft delights of love?
Nor in your offspring glad th' astonish'd earth,
The happy parent of a wond'rous birth?
And sure, no less shall grace your nuptial bed,
For can aught vulgar from the Queen proceed?
Wisely, I grant, you shunn'd the weak alarms
Of common beauty and quotidian charms;
But O! imprudent, should you now disclaim
A pleasing passion and auspicious flame.
With mutual warmth, her proffer'd love receive,
And taste the joys her heavenly beauties give.
While thus his pleasing counsel he addrest,
Alas! too grateful to my love-sick breast!
Sudden aloud the good Albertus sneez'd:
I yield, and follow with the omen pleas'd.

151

The monarch now her learned treasures shows,
And pleas'd each mystic science to disclose,
Illustrates by what powers huge vessels glide,
Conceal'd beneath the surface of the tide.
How, by her arts, her subjects learn to rise
On silken wings, and cut the liquid skies.
Or, to the winds, in cars of lightest cane,
Spread the broad sail, and swiftly skim the plain.

152

Much I applaud, for much I all admire.
Thus mutual pleasures fan our growing fire.

As when in vinegar, at distance plac'd,
To join two self-mov'd Astroites haste;
Our heaving hearts, with fond impatience, move,
And pant for contact, with attractive love.

Nor can our eager passion brook delay,
We, for our spousals, name th' ensuing day.

How shall my tongue the sad reverse of fate,
And terrors of the dreadful night relate?
Oft rose fair Lindamira's frowning shade:
My purpose oft with boding voice forbade.
So Julia menac'd round her Pompey's bed,
Ere Cæsar conquer'd, and Pharsalia bled.
With her, my swarthy rival blasts my sight,
And casts a blacker horror on the night.
Th' assembled lawyers next (tremendous band)
Rose to my view, and all my soul unman'd.
But chief, O! chief! the Queen herself opprest,
And, with dire om'nous action, chill'd my breast.

153

Stern she approach'd, and, with contemptuous look,
The horn opprobrious from her forehead took
And fix'd on mine: when, sudden o'er my head,
Portentous growth! luxuriant antlers spread.
Wide and more wide the teeming branches shoot,
And ceaseless suckers issue from the root.
Such ghastly visions waste the dismal night:
I rose, dejected, with the morning light.
The sun I sought: behind a murky cloud,
Shorn of his beams, he dimly frown'd in blood,
And now, already at my gate was seen
An early herald from th' impatient Queen.
Dissembling, I suppress the rising tear,
And strive th' unprosp'rous moments to defer.
In vain: already at the altar stands
Th' officious priest to join our hapless hands.
Oh sad effects of too neglectful haste!
No hymeneal rites our nuptials grac'd.

154

No hallow'd priest the festal victim slew,
And the curs'd gall behind the altar threw.
Nor did the slaves the flaming torches bear,
Nor burn the axle of the bridal car;
With flow'rs or woolly fillets deck the door,
Or figs, the type of future plenty, pour;
Nor wild asparagus at once imply'd
The courtship and possession of the bride;
No sportive songsters hail'd the genial time,
Chaunting the fescennine licentious rhime.
Nor did the bride the solemn barley bear,
Nor with the spear divide her flowing hair,
Or yellow veil of mystic purport wear.
No matron's voice her eager steps forbad
The sacred threshold of the porch to tread.
No decent zone secur'd her looser waist,
But ev'ry rite was lost in shameless haste!
Hymen his sacred influence withdraws,
And sees, with anger, his neglected laws.

155

Soon as within the sacred fane I came,
Sudden, extinguish'd, sunk the hallow'd flame.
Ghosts howling, sadden the long isle's dark gloom,
And sweats of blood distil from ev'ry tomb.

To wait a more propitious hour, I move;
But she o'er-rules my fears with eager love.
Th' obedient priests dispatch with trembling haste,
Thence move, with pomp, to grace the nuptial feast.
The bride, transported, smiles with open soul,
Gay from the feast, and wanton from the bowl;
To her lov'd grot, with fond desire, invites,
There to consummate Hymen's blissful rites.

Deep in the dark recesses of the wood
A cave obscur'd with gloomy laurels stood.
Ivy, within, the verdant roof o'erspread
With pendant foliage, a luxuriant shade!
The ruin'd walls the monarch's hand adorns
With mould'ring stones, rough moss, and broken urns.
O'er these, with studied negligence, she spreads
Strange roots, gay garlands, and fantastic weeds.
Rough unhewn steps lead to the dark retreat,
And a vast mat presents an ample seat.

This grot she destin'd for the nuptial night,
Sacred to love and conscious of delight.
Unstable state of wretched human kind!
Faithless as seas, and fickle as the wind:

156

The gentlest blast may nip our blooming joy:
The slightest wave our baseless bliss destroy.
Our fleeting pleasure no duration knows,
But ebbs, ere well we can perceive it flows.

Now, happiest pair, we reach th' auspicious bow'r,
Big with the transports of the genial hour;
When lo! two owls, who, with the like design,
Retir'd, in silence, to the secret shrine;
Rush forth, with loud complainings, from the cave,
And, with sad sighs, their loves unfinish'd leave.
Saturn, to thwart my rising joys intent,
The boding augury, terrific, sent;
He, with foul dreams, my trembling bosom chill'd
And all my soul with deadly horror fill'd.
Hence, at the last portent, with wild affright,
From the fond Queen I wing my speedy flight.
And, urg'd with shame, not knowing how to bear
Her just reproach for my dishonest fear,
Strait to the ready crew I give the word,
And summon all with swiftest speed on board.

Aurora now had left Tithonus' bed:
When to the shore by fatal fury led,

157

The monarch hastes; the parting bark she view'd,
And thus, with scoffs, my coward flight pursu'd.

Unmanly traitor, whom nor honor awes,
Nor sacred gratitude's eternal laws;
Vaunt not thyself from great Scriblerus sprung;
Thy coward soul belies thy boastful tongue.
Thee not the learned Barthius' daughter bore,
Bred 'midst the rocks of Scotia's barren shore,
The lifeless offspring of her blasted trees,
Nurs'd, as brought forth, amidst thy kindred geese.

158

Ah whither do my various passions rove?
Still must I censure whom I still must love?
How could'st thou, cruel, from thy consort run,
The sacred rites of Hymen but begun?
Scorn'd and neglected leave the nuptial bed,
And all the mighty debt of love unpaid?
Oh! had you but bestow'd one fond embrace,
Ere yet you fled from this once valued face;
Perhaps I had not then despair'd to see
Some young Scriblerus, heav'nly fair, like thee.
If fate, reluctant to compleat my joy,
Denied the blessing of a sprightly boy,
Some embrio semblance of thy form divine,
At least had floated in the glassy shrine.
Fond flatt'ring hope possession had supply'd,
Nor had you left me so forlorn a bride.

159

Fir'd at that sacred name, again contest
The jarring passions in my bleeding breast.
The friendless vagrant, not content to save,
Rare arts I taught, and choicest presents gave;
Not ev'n ourself with-held, but fondly led
The coward boaster to my bridal bed—
Now signs are seen—now Saturn omens sends—
And visions bode, and augury portends—
Such cares, forsooth, disturb the peaceful fowl,
And to distress poor lovers flies the owl.

160

If ere futurity by signs was known,
To me some omen had thy baseness shown;
Victims had wanted ev'ry nobler part,
And, to denote thee truly, chief the heart.

Her rueful moanings my compassion move,
And to my breast recall affrighted love.
I feel his dictates o'er my fears prevail,
And call to change our course and shift the sail.
But oh! I scarce had giv'n the tardy word,
Ere her rash hand her bleeding bosom gor'd.
Shock'd at the dreadful sight, ply ev'ry oar,
Eager, I cry, and instant make the shore—
Rous'd by my well-known voice, again revive
Her drooping spirits, and she strives to live.
When lo! vindictive Saturn reach'd the strand,
And seiz'd the Plica with relentless hand.

161

Then wav'd aloft his glitt'ring scythe in air,
And cropt, for ever cropt, the fatal hair.
A deathful slumber clos'd her beauteous eyes:
And her freed soul regain'd her native skies.

THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

163

BOOK IV.

164

ARGUMENT.

The Queen appearing to Scriblerus, as he lies in a swoon, informs him that all his misfortunes are owing to the murder of the Acrostick, for whose death he must make atonement, and celebrate games to his memory. The hero returns to the violated island, and submissively sues for peace. Then follow the games. Scriblerus establishes a lasting friendship with the islanders, and retires loaded with presents. He pursues his course up the Red Sea, and travels over the desart to Cairo. He briefly touches his journey from thence in quest of the petrified city, and concludes with his affliction for the loss of his treasures. The pilgrims condoling with him thereon, are interrupted by an omen which they interpret in his favour; then praying for his success, and presenting him with the most valuable of their treasures, they depart.

165

My shudd'ring frame, unnerv'd with horror, sunk
Extended on the deck a lifeless trunk.
My soul uncumber'd with corporeal ties,
At large thro' fancy's boundless empire flies,
Full in my sight the Queen's lov'd form appears,
Awakes reflexion, and renews my tears.
But soon her voice my rising griefs forbad,
And thus began the visionary shade.

I come not fondly to upbraid, but show
The fatal origin of all thy woe,
And to direct its cure. From one rash deed,
Th' Acrostick's murder, all thy woes proceed.
Then seek with speed the violated coast;
With sacrifice appease his injur'd ghost.
Games and lustrations must avert thy doom,
And rites exequial grace his honour'd tomb.

166

Yet, ere from hence the parting sail you spread
Be one sad office to my mem'ry paid.

In yon lone grove's remotest corner stands
A structure, rais'd by these ill fated hands.
Huge intermingling fibrous roots, dispos'd
With curious art, a pyramid composed.
Bones lin'd the walls, in rustick order placed:
The gloomy roof the smoak of tapers graced:
Skulls grinn'd around, and ashes lay beneath:
The bow'r of contemplation and of death.
Here as I sat and moan'd my widow'd love
With tears, my hapless hands Asbestus wove,
And form'd a shroud. To this my corse intrust,
And save my ashes from the vulgar dust:

167

While quick-consuming flames at once devour
My poor remains, and death-devoted bower.
With marble then the pyramid replace;
And let my bones inurn'd the summit grace.

With sighs she ended. Thrice in vain I strove
To clasp the fleeting object of my love.
She flies my grasp unfelt, as shadows pass,
Or hands protruded from the concave glass.

Obedient to the visionary fair,
Her obsequies employ our pious care.
The pile consum'd, with marble we replace,
And with her bones inurn'd the summit grace.
Then naked run, in frantick courses, round
Th' anointed tomb with flow'rs and chaplets crown'd.

168

Such mystick rites to great Pelides' shade,
On Xanthus' banks, Æmathia's hero paid.

With prosp'rous winds we sail. The joyful crew
Transported hail the wish'd-for shores in view.
Strait we select a venerable band;
The peaceful olive waves in every hand.
Onward they march, and to the chiefs explain
Our deep contrition for th' Acrostick slain:
And sue for peace. The bards accept our love
With mutual zeal, and to the temple move
To ratify their vows. An awful shrine!
Sacred to Phœbus; where at once combine
Whate'er of splendor, beauty, grace, or art,
The most exalted fancy can impart.
Nor yields this pile to that celestial fane,
The work of Vulcan, in th' ætherial plain.

Within the dome, in lofty niches stood
Six statues carv'd of cedar's od'rous wood.

169

The sacred band great Triphiodorus leads;
High o'er the baffled alphabet he treads.
Next him th' intrepid Chœrilus appears;
His boastful hand the royal bounty bears.
Elate with ancient praise, old Bavius sits
There Leoninus, first of modern wits.
On the proud elephant, in triumph, thron'd,
Querno, with Rome's imperial laurel crown'd,
Shakes his anointed head, in act to speak,
While tears of joy run trickling down his cheek.
The next, a lofty poetess was seen;
Beauteous her face, majestic was her mien.

170

Severe reward of pride! that lovely form
No more thy transmigrated soul shall warm;
Chang'd to a bird, for ever doom'd to fly
With party-colour'd plumes, a chatt'ring pye.

Soon as I tread the temple's sacred floor,
The laurel shakes, the hollow caverns roar:
Bedew'd with sweat, each awful image stood,
And big round drops fell from the hallow'd wood.
The vulgar tremble, and would quit the fane,
But the skill'd seer pronounc'd their terrors vain.
No threaten'd ills these boding signs portend:
The great Scriblerus comes your dearest friend.
A copious subject for your labour'd song,
To tire each hand, and weary ev'ry tongue:
Th' extensive theme his glorious deeds afford,
Shall sweat six well-breath'd poets to record.
He said: and bade them ply the genial feast.
Thence, sated, all retire to needful rest.

Soon as Aurora's beams disperse the gloom,
The pious croud surround th' Acrostick's tomb:

171

With solemn pomp begin the rites divine,
Pouring the tepid milk and sparkling wine,
And consecrated flour—when, round the grave,
Strange to relate, the ground was seen to heave.
A batten'd mole arises midst the heaps
Of crumbled earth, and to the viands creeps:
Around he strays, the rich libation sips,
And tastes the sacred flour with harmless lips.
Thus fed with holy food, the wond'rous guest
Within the hollow tomb retires to rest.

Then I: Suspect no more, thrice-honor'd train,
Our vows rejected, or lustration vain.
See the familiar of th' industrious dead,
Propitious omen, on our off'rings fed!
Or shall we deem him genius of the place,
By Phœbus sent our festal pomp to grace?

Yon sloping hill's umbrageous side commands
The spacious ocean and the level sands:

172

The living marble there shall yield a seat,
While solemn games the hallow'd rites compleat.
Thither the prizes bring ordain'd to grace
The rapid victor in th' ærial race.

Before the rest an ox majestic stalks:
Six monstrous legs support him as he walks.
On his bold front he rolls three glaring eyes,
And twice ten vulgar oxen was his price.
Deidemon next conducted to the shore
A female captive valued but at four.
To her, Machaon, all thy arts were known,
To strain the bandage, or replace the bone.

My swelling heart unable to restrain,
I rose, and thus addrest the list'ning train.

173

Behold yon matchless beast ordain'd to grace,
The rapid victor in th' ærial race.
None from ourself that prize should bear away;
But not for triumph is this mournful day.
Far other thoughts my sorrowing hours employ,
And sad contrition holds the place of joy.
Let brisker youths their active nerves prepare,
Fit their light silken wings, and skim the buxom air.
Mov'd by my words, two youths of equal fire
Spring from the croud, and to the prize aspire.
The one a German of distinguish'd fame:
His rival from projecting Britain came.
They spread their wings, and with a rising bound,
Swift at the word together quit the ground.
The Briton's rapid flight outstrips the wind:
The lab'ring German urges close behind.
As some light bark, pursu'd by ships of force,
Stretches each sail to swell her swifter course,
The nimble Briton from his rival flies,
And soars on bolder pinions to the skies.

174

Sudden the string, which bound his plumage, broke;
His naked arms in yielding air he shook:
His naked arms no more support his weight,
But fail him sinking from his airy height.
Yet as he falls, so chance or fate decreed,
His rival near him urg'd his winged speed,
Not unobserv'd. (despair suggests a thought)
Fast by the foot the heedless youth he caught,
And drew th' insulting victor to the ground:
While rocks and woods with loud applause resound.

Then I: Behold yon matchless youth compell'd
By fortune, not superior skill to yield
His juster glories in the well-flown field.
But not unhonor'd shall he halt away,
Or giftless mourn this unauspicious day.
Yon damsel, for the present, suits not ill:
For much, alas! he wants her ablest skill;
And to his tent, ere morning, shall be brought,
A statue of resplendent metals wrought;
Where Icarus his silver wings expands,
And boasts the labour of his father's hands.

175

Now for those chiefs who cut their calmer way
Beneath the boist'rous surface of the sea,
From the tall bark the rich rewards are born:
And first was seen great Ammon's twisted horn,
By nature's hand exprest in massive stone:
Twice six stout porters with the burthen groan.
Rich Surinam produc'd the second prize;
A toad prolific, of enormous size.
High on her pregnant back her young are born,
(Her pregnant back with frequent labour torn)
Thro' her burst skin they force their painful way,
And issue a portentous birth, to-day.

176

To grace the third, a flowing robe was brought:
Of spider's web the curious texture wrought.

First, great Agrippa to the prize pretends:
From learn'd Cornelius' lineage he descends.
His skilful hand the speedy mermaid guides
Safe from tempestuous winds and thwarting tides.
Next, long-inur'd beneath the waves to dwell,
The two descendants of the great Drebell.

177

One guides the Crocodile's stupendous size;
Six banks of oars, in six degrees, arise:
The other in the lighter Hydra flies,

Far in the sea a grove of coral stood,
The waves o'ershadowing with a branching wood.
To this, their destin'd goal, they urge their flight,
And, at the stated signal, sink from sight;
Their oars now move with wide-expanded sweep,
And now return contracted thro' the deep.
The Hydra leads: Drebell, elate of soul,
His rivals eyes, regardless of the goal:
With fond assurance deems the prize his own;
And oft in thought he weighs the pond'rous stone.

178

O justest picture of the human mind,
Rash tho' unknowing, confident tho' blind.
Plung'd in the depths of error, we decree:
Boldly we judge of what we dimly see;
And, too impatient for Truth's sober pace,
We follow light-wing'd hope's delusive chace.
Some air-drawn phantom leads our eyes astray,
Blind to the nearer rocks which choak our dang'rous way.

Thus wrapt in thought, the Chief incautious drove
His vessel's side against th' entangling grove.
The branching coral snapt th' extended oars,
And the rash youth his vanish'd hopes deplores.
And now the wretch beholds, with jealous eyes,
The Mermaid next advancing for the prize.
Fraternal love a treach'rous thought inspires,
He loads his engines with the Grecian fires:

179

And, as the rival barge triumphant past,
Against her sides the fierce bitumen cast.
Wide rage the fires. The crew with hasty care,
The raw bull-hides and vinegar prepare
To damp the flames, and quit the needful oar:
Swift flies the well-row'd Crocodile before,
Sweeps circling round the grove and makes the shore.
Now, her defrauded honors to regain,
The Mermaid plies her oars, but plies in vain.
Too well the fraudful brother's arts prevail;
Applauding shouts her conqu'ring rival hail.
At length the young Drebellides returns,
Tho' half her oars the crippled Hydra mourns.
As when the hungry Crab in India's main,
Whose body two unequal legs sustain,

180

Intent some oyster's op'ning shell to spoil,
Moves to the gaping prey with aukward toil;
His larger claw, with treach'rous pebbles load,
Drives him obliquely sideling from the road;
The Hydra thus, impell'd by partial force,
Steer'd thro' the waves her lame and tardy course.

Once more, I thus bespoke th' attentive train;
Advance the skilful marksmen on the plain,
Who, with the air's comprest elastic force,
From wind-guns speed the bullet's rapid course.

181

High on the summit of yon lofty hill,
The milk-white courser by the sculptor's skill,
Vast as the Trojan horse, conspicuous stands,
And speaks the labor of no vulgar hands.
Who smite the steed shall share one gen'ral prize,
This radiant store of matchless butterflies.
But he whose happier ball with nicer aim
Shall strike the flank, the victor's glory claim;

182

For, on the flank, Laocoon's furious dart
Pierc'd the vast structure of Epeus' art.
Be his reward this valued volume, fraught
With all the stores of Wor'ster's pregnant thought.

I said: and in the hallow'd helmet threw
The lots inscrib'd; the first Deidemon drew.
His well-aimed engine he directs with care,
And instant frees the close-imprison'd air.
Th' unerring ball pursu'd its rapid course,
And smote, with furious stroke, the sacred horse.
By strong repulsion, thence return'd, again
Roll'd back and lay, conspicuous, on the plain.
The rest, by turns, succeed their art to try,
And wing the pond'rous metal thro' the sky:

183

With like amaze the prodigy repeat,
And find the fatal bullet at their feet.

Mov'd by the impulse of some power divine,
I now resolve the solemn games to join.
When lo! a stranger omen greets our eyes,
And fills the gazer's soul with new surprize;
As thro' the air I drove the whizzing lead,
An ambient flame around the metal spread:
Such and so bright yon argent circles glow,
Which ceaseless round the orb of Saturn flow;
High o'er the rock, metereous, it flies,
Borne unextinguish'd to the lofty skies.

Then thus the bards explain the great portent:
To thee, Scriblerus, is this omen sent;
By this unerring sign the Gods decree
Peaceful return to all thy friends: to Thee,
Successive scenes of wonder to explore
In realms far distant from thy native shore.

184

Fix'd and suspended for a while I stand:
At length approaching the prophetic band;
Perplex'd, I spake: within my dubious soul,
Hope and distrust, by turns, tumultuous roll.

Blest be the seer whose hallow'd tongue imparts
These sounds of comfort to our dubious hearts;
Yet tho' each omen point a prosp'rous end,
Still o'er our heads th' Acrostick's threats impend:
O! teach us by what sacrifice or pray'r
T' avert the curse, or bravely how to bear:
And, if so far thy science reach, relate
What distant realms my future toil await.
The seer replies: suffice it that you know
(For Saturn's wrath forbids the rest to show)
A prosp'rous end to all your woes decreed;
Then, spight of boding prophecies, proceed.
Such threats, nor fear to meet, nor wish to shun,
Perhaps the menace of an empty pun.
Well has thy care appeas'd th' Acrostick's soul
No doubt remains thy purpose to controul;
With speed to Egypt's sacred coast repair;
There shall a surer oracle declare

185

Thy future course; yet ere thou hence depart,
Receive these tokens of a friendly heart.
He said, and twelve resplendent Axes brought;
Twelve choice Ænigmas on the steel were wrought.
A shepherd's Pipe, whose each decreasing line
Resounds the honours of the tuneful Nine.
Then march six Bards, who, studious to rehearse
Our deathless labours in Pindaric verse,
Bear them, inscrib'd on six expanded wings,
And each, in turn, th' unequal measure sings.

Then joining hands, ere yet I thence withdrew,
In words like these I paid my last adieu;
May Phœbus ever bless this peaceful land;
To endless time your letter'd altars stand;
Still may your groves their radiant fruits unfold;
Still bloom with sparkling gems and burnish'd gold:
May music flow from ev'ry Naiad's urn,
And echoing rocks the melting sounds return.
Nor Critic pow'rs invade this blest retreat,
To bruise your flow'rets with their hostile feet.

And now confirm'd our vows of mutual love;
From the gay coast, with mournful steps, we move.

186

Six tedious weeks we spread the swelling sails,
And drive at large before the southern gales.
When, from Arabia's spicy borders, spring
The Eastern breezes, and with od'rous wing,
Fanning the wanton air, around dispense
A grateful fragrance to the ravish'd sense.
The Erythræan sea before us lay
Our destin'd course: a far-extended bay.
In twice ten days, the inmost coast we reach,
And land our treasures on the spacious beach.
To camels now consign the precious load,
And toil, intrepid, thro' the pathless road:
The fifteenth sultry morn's auspicious light
Reveal'd great Cairo's minarets to sight.
From thence we journey'd o'er the desart plain:
There all my treasures, solace of my pain,
Sav'd through a thousand toils, but sav'd in vain,
Perish'd at once. This stroke no boding sign
Foretold: nor did the dire Acrostic join

187

Amidst his ruthless curses: this surpast
All other woes: the greatest and the last.

Abrupt the Hero ends the wond'rous tale;
While tears in torrents o'er his words prevail.
When, rushing from the sky, the bird of Jove
A team of twenty ducks before him drove:
With trembling wing, beneath the flood they shoot,
The whelming waves elude his vain pursuit.
Ruffled with rage, th' indignant tyrant glows:
'Till from the stream a pamper'd goose arose.
Eager to her he wings his deathful way,
And his strong talons seize the goodly prey.

With friendly joys thus spake the pious train:
Not hard this mystic omen to explain
As yon proud bird indignant grief exprest,
With wild disorder'd flight and ruffled crest,

188

Or wheeling thro' the wide ætherial way,
Or vainly hov'ring o'er his vanish'd prey;
Now rais'd on sounding pinions seeks the skies,
At length successful in a nobler prize:
So shall thou meet thy rich reward at last,
And lose in present joys thy suff'rings past.
But O! for us what promised boon remains,
What gleam of hope for all our endless pains?
With these bare feet, in vain, yon hallow'd ground
Whole years we trod: no precious relic found:
No blest remains of better days could trace
'Midst impious Ottoman's usurping race;
Where barb'rous rage the sainted forms devours,
Foe to the chizzel's consecrating pow'rs.
While listless drones the Pontiff's chair degrade,
And zeal no more awakens the Crusade.

They said, and from the bark a plenteous store
Of strong Asphaltos to the Hero bore.
And twelve fair apples beauteous to behold,
Whose rind refulgent vies with burnish'd gold.

189

But, for the fruit, a nauseous pulp is found,
Or ashes fill the vain delusive round.

These gifts the Chief receives with grateful hand,
And to proud Cairo leads the wearied band.
He venerates the Soldan's ruin'd state,
And burns to find the Prophet of his fate.

THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

191

BOOK V.

192

ARGUMENT.

Scriblerus, having consulted the Morosoph, relates to his friends the result of his enquiry. That he must leave them to go in search of the philosopher's stone, which is promis'd him. That they must return to England and found a society, of which he is to be visitor; and being assured, by possession of the stone, of longævity, if not immortality, he promises to visit the society every century. After a variety of hardships which our Hero undergoes in twelve months travel from Genoa, where his friends leave him, he arrives at a grove near Munster in Germany. In this city, after several fruitless attempts to transmute lead into gold, the alchymists agree to postpone the farther trial of their art to the next day, hoping it might be more auspicious, as being the first day of April, the birth-day of that successful alchymist Basilius Valentinus. That night Plutus appears to the Hero, and directs him to the fatal root which is to procure the transmutation of metals and prolongation of life. Inspired with gratitude and devotion, Scriblerus sacrifices a goose and thirty goslins, which engages him in a sharp conflict with a revengeful maiden, whom at length he vanquishes, and, with a moderation singular in a conqueror, leaves, to pursue his journey to Munster.

193

All night, the sleepless sage impatient lay,
Big with the fortunes of the following day.
Soon as the wish'd-for morn with purple streaks
Th' horizon's utmost bound, Scriblerus seeks
The raptur'd seer. A long successless day
Thro' every street he takes his tiresome way.
The night approach'd: when, seated on the ground,
Alone, the pensive Morosoph he found.
A woolly sheepskin veil'd his rev'rend head:
Thence lengthen'd downwards and beneath him spread.
(Thus, near Albunea's hallow'd fount, repos'd
On fleecy skins, the priest of Faunus doz'd)

194

But all before, his sacred body bare,
Ill-brook'd the rigour of th' inclement air.
A deep capacious bowl, replete with store
Of potent opium in his hand he bore.
So fam'd Theangelis with hallow'd rage
Fills the swoll'n bosom of the Persian mage.
The scratching-stick with which the Seer subdu'd
The tingling tumults of his boiling blood,
Seem'd, as he whirl'd it, the Chaldean rod,
Or Thyrsus, symbol of the Lybian god.

195

Scriblerus now approach'd with rev'rence low,
The Seer observ'd; and dealt a furious blow
Full on his head: whose force impetuous stunn'd
Th' unwary sage, and fell'd him to the ground.
Frantic awhile with ideot grin he gaz'd;
At length the Hero from the earth he rais'd:
Then to his lips convey'd the balmy draught;
The senseless Chief the slumb'rous potion quaft.
His heavy eyes the slumb'rous potion clos'd,
Ere yet his tongue his various doubts propos'd.
Wrapt in th' embrace of sleep, he past the night,
And rising, joyful, with the morning light,
His friends he sought, impatient to relate
Their glories promis'd by propitious fate.
Eager alike his dear companions ran
To meet their chief; Scriblerus thus began.

Hear, blest associates of my various pains,
What rich reward to crown our toil remains.
Last night, so Jove ordain'd, alone I found
The heav'n-taught Prophet seated on the ground.
An hallow'd rage already had possest
His raptured soul, and heav'd his swelling breast.

196

High on his head uprose the bristling hair:
His turgid eye-balls roll'd an hideous glare;
With chatt'ring teeth, the working foam he churn'd,
And thrice the solid earth, impatient, spurn'd;
Then, wildly starting, danced with frantic bounds,
Whirling his rapid head in giddy rounds:
He wav'd th' Edonian Thyrsus in his hand,
And look'd a priest of Bacchus' furious band.

In admiration lost, awhile I wait
Till the first efforts of his rage abate:
When by his arm the Thyrsus urged around,
Full on my temples gave this goary wound.
Prostrate I lay. At length the pitying sage,
Calm'd and recover'd from his holy rage,
With friendly steps advancing, seiz'd my hand:
Chear'd with his voice and raised me from the sand;
Then with Nepenthes crown'd a mantling bowl,
Whose sov'reign charms restored my drooping soul.

197

Thus Helen mix'd the mirth-inspiring draught;
From these rich shores the virtuous drugs she brought.
My spirits soon reviving in my breast,
I thus the hallow'd Morosoph addrest:

Illustrious Seer, whose all-enlighten'd eyes
Dart thro' the distant regions of the skies:
To thee an earnest suppliant am I come,
To hear thy dictates and enquire my doom.

The raptured Seer his rev'rend tresses shakes,
Then, fill'd with sacred inspiration, speaks.

Heav'n-favour'd Sage, to whom the fates allow
Those secrets wrapt from vulgar minds, to know.
Hear with a grateful and attentive heart,
The precepts which thy kinder stars impart.

198

First, in obedience to their high decree,
Again embarking on a length of sea,
Fair Genoa seek: there quit thy mournful friends,
But learn what fortune their return attends.
I see, I see them spread their swelling sails:
Some fav'ring pow'r supplies the friendly gales.
I see fair Albion's tow'ring cliffs arise,
While to the wish'd-for port the vessel flies.
Now, now, behold, their hopes successful crown'd,
With wisest laws an infant state they found—
See how her sons with gen'rous ardour strive,
Bid ev'ry long-lost Gothic art revive.
Each British science studiously explore:
Their dress, their building, and their coins restore.—

Be these your arts. Proceed, illustrious race,
And yon fair isle with ancient glories grace.
Let others view with astronomic eyes,
Yon lucid vagrants in the peopled skies:
Let them the habitable dome design,
Taught by Vitruvius, or old Euclid's line;

199

Carve the rough block, inform the lumpish mass,
Give canvas life, and mould the breathing brass;
With storied emblems, stamp th' historic coin;
The painter's skill and poet's fancy join:
Be yours the task, industrious, to recal
The lost inscription to the ruin'd wall;
Each Celtic character explain; or shew
How Britons ate a thousand years ago:
On laws of jousts and tournaments declaim,
Or shine the rivals of the herald's fame.
But chief the Saxon wisdom be your care,
Preserve their idols, and their fanes repair;
The cold devotion of the moderns warm
With Friga's fair hermaphroditic form:
And may their deep mythology be shown
By Seater's wheel and Thor's tremendous throne.

Thus far the Sage by sacred raptures born,
Reveals the fame of ages yet unborn.
He paused and fix'd his eyes as tho' he view'd
Those glories present, then his speech renew'd:

Such honour crowns thy dear companions fates;
Superior far thy glorious self awaits.

200

The grand elixir art thou doom'd to know:
But first must roam a mendicant in show;
Naked and pennyless thro' distant lands,
And eat thy bread the alms of stranger hands.
The rugged Alps must those bare feet assail,
Froz'n on the hill, or swelt'ring in the vale;
Scorn and contempt thy painful lot remain,
Till Munster's venerable walls thou gain.
Munster the destin'd period of thy woe:
There, on a lake, white as the new-fall'n snow,
A goose, majestic, o'er the waves shall ride,
And thirty milk-white goslins by her side.

201

Nigh to the borders of the silver flood,
Sacred to Plutus, stands a lofty wood,
Beneath its shadowing branches, grows a flow'r
Whose root the god endues with wondrous pow'r;
Not the famed Moly which great Hermes bore
To sage Ulysses on th' Ææan shore;
Nor that restorative the Tartar boasts,
Nor all the growth of Arab's blissful coasts,
Nor balsams which from northern trees transpire,
Tho' six successive months th' ætherial fire
With constant rays the balmy juice sublime,
Can match this offspring of the German clime.

158

What tho' no radiant metal grace the rind,
No golden branches crackle to the wind;
What tho' it seem (so Plutus has decreed)
To vulgar eyes, a despicable weed:
Yet from this herb, a thousand virtues flow;
This pow'rful antidote for every woe.
Nor meagre sickness, nor consuming care,
Shall waste thy vigour with intestine war.
Tho' age thy wither'd front with wrinkles plough,
And blanch the hoary honours of thy brow;
Tho' sanguine gamesters bett against thy life,
Thou unconcern'd shalt hear the wagering strife.

203

From this inestimable root calcined,
The great hermetic secret shalt thou find;
On baser ores the pow'rful ashes strow;
And purest gold shall from the furnace flow.
If fav'ring Plutus, bounteous pow'r, ordain
That thou, Scriblerus, the high prize obtain,
A sudden radiance of cœlestial light
Shall guide thy footsteps, and direct thy sight:
But if the god the precious gift with-hold
Averse, nor deem thee worthy of the gold,
Fruitless and vain thy weary search is made:
The plant lies buried in eternal shade.
If e'er thou swerve from rigid virtue's path,
Expect the vengeful god's severest wrath.

204

The root its virtue shall retain no more:
Like Midas thou the useless gift deplore.
Let humble thoughts thy vanity controul,
And meekness temper thine elated soul.

Pride rears her giant form aloft and treads
Injurious o'er the cow'ring gazers heads.
By pride obnoxious, jealousy and hate
Shall drive thee skulking from each envious state.

205

But lowly charity's unheeded pace
Nor envy spies, nor can suspicion trace.
Then chief be heaven-born charity thy care,
Nor pass one hour without a grateful pray'r.
Thus far the Seer, when sleep's resistless god
Shook o'er my eye-lids his Lethæan rod.

206

At morn I waked, astonish'd and alone,
For ah! the prophet from my side was gone.

Thus to his gladden'd friends the Chief relates
The tale prophetic of their future fates.
Elate with hope a vessel they prepare
And load the needful stores with zealous care.
With prosp'rous gales they cut the liquid way,
And moor secure in Genoa's destined bay.
There, drown'd in tears and dumb with friendly grief,
His sad companious leave their mournful Chief;
Yet as the Hero bids his last adieu,
He vows, ere long, their growing schemes to view,
And, each revolving cent'ry, to repeat
His solemn visit to their foster state.

Tho' Portugal her lost Sebastian mourn,
And weary heav'n in vain for his return:

207

On surer prophecies you build your faith;
Nor part I hence to exile or to death,
Like Regulus amidst th' opposing fears
Of friends, of kindred, and the senate's tears;
Nor like Lycurgus, in his country's cause,
His life devoting to enforce his laws.
Nor shall your Chief a baffled wretch return,
An outcast loaded with reproach and scorn;
But rich in glories, honour'd and adored,
And more than mortal, to your arms restored.

He said, and pensive prest the sounding shore,
While the waves foam beneath their brushing oar.
Twelve tedious months, with painful steps and slow,
Thro' a long series of opprobrious woe,
Naked and pennyless, in unknown lands,
He ate his bitter bread, the alms of strangers hands.

But now, with lighter wings the moments fly,
And bring the period of his labours nigh.
In Munster's walls, assiduous fate prepares,
With endless honours to reward his cares.
Munster, which gave th' illustrious father birth,
Shall now be conscious of the filial worth.

208

In this, his future glory's destined scene,
The great Adepts in Hermes' art convene,
Who boast, with vain fallacious science bold,
To change each baser ore to purest gold.

But ne'er will righteous heav'n its gifts impart
To the corrupted and ungrateful heart,
Where lawless lust and wild ambition reign,
And pride and base insatiate thirst of gain.
Hence, all in vain, they bring their boasted stone,
In vain their powders on the mass are thrown.
Their weak attempts the juster fates oppose,
And unmatured, unchanged the metal flows.
Then one advancing, who possest alone,
A fluid extract from th' all-pow'rful stone,
Three fatal drops amid the furnace spills:
The liquid mass a sudden vapour fills,
By quick dilation; and with dreadful sound,
Exploded, drives the glowing metal round.

The fearful omen all the fabric shook,
When thus the race of great Bombastus spoke:

209

Oh! why, my friends, for this divine essay,
Why have you chose this unauspicious day?
Twere wiser sure your trials to postpone
Till the last eve of frowning Mars be gone.
Your cares suspended till the rising dawn,
By prosp'rous Venus, usher'd o'er the lawn,
Shall sure succeed: for on that sacred morn
Was great Basilius Valentinus born.
With solemn rites invoke his learned shade,
So may his genius your projection aid.

210

Thus far the Sage, when loud applauses rung
In glad assent, from each approving tongue.
To feastful mirth they dedicate the night,
And hail the morning with the solemn rite.

That night, so Fate decreed, Scriblerus gains
The sacred grove on Munster's neighb'ring plains.
There stretcht at ease, his wearied limbs he laid,
And slept unconscious of the friendly shade.

Lo! ere the morn dispensed her earliest light,
Great Plutus' form, conspicuous to the sight,
Before him stood, and thus his speech addrest:
Thrice happy Sage, by fav'ring fortune blest,
On this auspicious morn th' unwearied sun
His annual course around the globe has run,
Since parting from thy friends on Genoa's sands,
Thou trod'st with toilsome steps a length of barren lands.
Arise, and thro' the grove pursue thy way:
Observe the course of yon propitious ray:
That splendid guide shall lead thee to the flow'r
Whose root alone can boast th' aurific power.
But, lest thou doubt, or think the promise vain,
Soon as Aurora glads th' enlighten'd plain,

211

A goose majestic o'er the lake shall ride,
And thirty milk-white goslins by her side.

Be thy chief care with sacrifice t' asswage,
And humble off'rings, injur'd Saturn's rage.
Nor less due honours to my pow'r belong,
Selected victims and a grateful song.
That god am I, whose universal sway
All nations own, and willing all obey.
Tho' not from heav'n I boast my honour'd birth,
Yet ever dearest to the sons of earth.
He said, and disappear'd; when from the ground,
The Hero starting, cast his eyes around.
Lo! all-propitious to his raptured sight,
An ignis-fatuus, with portentous light,
From the dank earth exhaled, began to move:
His course directing thro' the dusky grove.
With zeal the Sage revered th' auspicious ray,
And toil'd intrepid thro' the thorny way.
At length the vapour stopt. With eager eyes,
Awhile he view'd, then seized the matchless prize.
The matchless prize its conscious leaves expands,
Springs to the fated touch and meets his hands.

212

And now the rosy morn began to dawn:
He quits the grove and issues on the lawn;
When wond'rous to relate! a strange portent
Gives fresh assurance of the wish'd event.
He sees the stately goose in swan-like pride
The silver lake with oary feet divide;
And thirty milk-white goslins by her side.
Inspir'd with grateful zeal he hastes to seize
The goodly prey, and to the gods decrees.

When lo! the dying victims plaints alarm
The mournful shores and reach the neighb'ring farm;
Their well-known voice the startled Sylvia hears,
And flies, impell'd by sad prophetic fears.

This flock the Virgin cherish'd with her care,
With pens protected from the evening air;

213

Each morning from her hand they ate their food,
Then sought their cackling kindred on the flood;
There bathing all the day, at night they came
To their known lodgings, and their Country Dame.

Now all alarm'd, she hastes to their relief:
But oh! what language can express her grief,
When she, like wretched Niobe, beheld
Her hopes all welt'ring on th' ensanguin'd field!
Yet soon her sorrow yields to nobler rage,
And furious she attacks th' astonish'd Sage.
Frequent and thick her desperate blows she deals;
Beneath her arm the stagger'd champion reels.
Again the maiden lifts her vengeful hands,
But now prepared the bold Scriblerus stands;
With watchful eyes he wards the threaten'd blow;
And strives to grapple with his active foe.
Artful she baffles his superior might,
And doubtful holds the fortune of the fight.

So fought the Thracian Amazons of old,
While tinged with virgin blood Thermodon roll'd.
Such and so brave was great Alcides seen,
When dauntless he engaged the Maiden Queen.

The bold virago her dread arm extends;
Full on his cheek the weighty blow descends.
Crush'd with the stroke, his shatter'd jaws resound;
And his loose teeth fall frequent to the ground.

214

Firm and unmoved the Hero keeps the field,
And bold with passive valour, scorns to yield:
At length observing her defenceless waist,
Th' unguarded virgin in his arms embraced;
His griping arms her struggling limbs confine,
And on the plain the Heroine falls supine.
Scriblerus following, the fall'n maiden prest,
And prostrate lay, victorious on her breast.

Thus sage Ulysses, for his art renown'd,
O'erturn'd the strength of Ajax on the ground:
He shook the yielding earth, an helpless load,
The victor chief his giant limbs bestrode.

Thus as he lay, the Sage triumphant spoke:
Behold how fate, by one decisive stroke,
To me the laurels of the day ordains;
To thee subjection and opprobrious chains;
To thee the laws of combat to fulfil,
The vanquish'd yielding to the victor's will.
Thus was the chaste Hippolyte compell'd
To the proud foe her virgin charms to yield.

215

And thus each stoutest Amazonian Dame,
Resign'd her beauties to the Conqu'rors flame,

Yet not my heart these vanities inspire,
Nor sensual burns my breast with lawless fire,
Or knows my chaster soul a thought so base,
To force thee helpless to a lewd embrace.
Not thus the Sage his great pursuit attains:
But endless travel, and incessant pains,
Severest abstinence from ev'ry joy,
Must all his thoughts engage, and all his hours employ.

Then rise a spotless virgin from my arms,
And bear unrifled hence thy maiden charms.

216

Thus, gracious, the self-conquer'd conqu'ror spoke,
And by the hand the trembling maiden took.
Her soul possest, at once, with grief and rage
She flies, regardless of th' assiduous Sage,
Springs from his grasp, and seeks the thickest grove
Like sullen Dido from her faithless Love.
The borders of the lucid lake he seeks,
And hastes to cleanse his blood-polluted cheeks.

Now Phœbus, o'er the lofty mountain's height,
Pours on fair Munster's tow'rs his golden light.
Scriblerus hails the birth-place of his fire,
And joy and filial love his soul inspire.

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

217

BOOK VI.

218

ARGUMENT.

Scriblerus meets with the son of Faustus the Alchymist, who invites him to his house. Faustus explains to him the cause of their festival, and relates the history of Basilius Valentinus. The Alchymists are again baffled in their attempt to transmute the lead. Scriblerus desires to make a trial; is refused on account of his mean appearance, but discovering his name and family, is admitted with honour to the furnace. He soon obtains a colour, which success is received with universal applause. They contend who shall pay him the greatest respect, and eagerly embrace the proposal of Bossius to beatify him. The Hero, by a presentiment, is aware of the accidents that may happen at this important crisis, and advises to postpone the honours designed him 'till the great work be fully accomplished, left vanity, which already begins to possess his mind, should stop the progress of it, and perhaps entirely disappoint their expectations. His speech is interrupted by their enthusiastic zeal, and they immediately proceed to beatification. And now the Poet having conducted Scriblerus through a series of adventures, with success beyond the expectation of a mortal, concludes his poem with the Apotheosis of his Hero.

219

Thus, wrapt in thought, the Hero trod the plain,
When, sudden, rushing from the hills amain,
A youthful sportsman flies with rapid pace,
And, o'er the lawn, pursues his insect chace.
A waistcoat of the thinnest silk he wore,
And in his hand, of slightest texture, bore
A curious net, whose meshes light and rare
Scarce shone distinguish'd from th' unbodied air.
And now the plain's remotest verge he treads,
Now, nigh the Sage, the chace his footsteps leads;
Now in his slender toils he holds the prey,
And joyful to Scriblerus bends his way.
Stranger, contemplate well, with earnest eyes,
Eager he calls, this paragon of flies.
Observe him o'er; and tell if thou hast seen,
Or on the trees, or on the level green,
His pregnant mate, the precious insect show,
And claim whate'er my bounty can bestow.

220

O! youth, the Sage replies, nor have I seen
Or on the trees, or on the level green,
The pregnant consort of your beauteous game,
Nor aught, tho' needy, from your bounty claim.
Yet oh! vouchsafe one hospitable boon,
Declare the name os yon majestic town,
And point the way. To Munster's proud abode,
The youth replies, companion of the road
Myself thy steps will guide. Be thou my guest:
For sure some secret pow'r informs my breast
Thou draw'st thy lineage from no vulgar race,
And thro' thy rags a godlike mien I trace.
From far-fam'd ancestors my birth I claim,
A glorious lineage! Faustus is my name.
My great exploits th' Aurelian sages show,
Their walls resplendent with my labours glow.
Propitious Hermes to my sire imparts
The greatest, noblest of all human arts.
Obedient Vulcan owns his high commands,
Nor changeful Proteus can elude his hands.

221

He said: his words the Hero's breast inflame;
But chief, O Faustus, thy auspicious name,
Sure presage of success. With streaming eyes,
His joys dissembling, thus the Sage replies.

Thrice bounteous youth, my grateful thanks receive,
'Tis all alas! that poverty can give.

222

Once happier days were mine; and not the least
In Hermes' art, was known your wretched guest;
And O! were now some chymic task assign'd,
The god would still support th' industrious mind.
To temper lute; the never-dying flame
To tend, assiduous as the Vestal dame.
With muffled face corroding fumes to dare,
Nor pounded poison's subtlest atoms fear.
Not undeserving would I eat my bread,
An idle loit'rer on your bounty fed.

Scriblerus thus disguised his promised fate,
And now they reach great Faustus' friendly gate.
When thus the courteous youth his Sire addrest:
Disdain not to receive this stranger guest,
Tho' mean the garb which wraps the man of woe,
Tho' thus he roam a mendicant in show.
Oft, like the sun behind some dusky cloud,
Is Learning known her radiant head to shroud
In tatter'd robes; and frequent have we seen
Ev'n wit, affecting a neglected mien,
In rags like these, all specious pomp abjured,
Chuse to reside; his glory unobscured.

223

Stranger, the Sire replies, in happy hour
Thou com'st, directed by some fav'ring pow'r.
Propitious Venus sped thee on thy way
To share the triumphs of this glorious day
Sacred to science and to festal mirth,
The day which gave the great Basilius birth.
Free and unquestion'd enter, and prepare
The due libation and the solemn prayer.
Or if thy curious bosom burn to hear
Why thus Basilius mem'ry we revere;
Or why to his distinguish'd shade belong
The hallow'd victim and the votive song,
Attend. To this illustrious Sage were known
The long-sought virtues of the wond'rous stone,
Potent the fleeting spirit to restore,
Or to pure gold convert the baser ore.
Thus had th' adept prolong'd his niggard span,
Thus had he liv'd immortal, tho' a Man.
But wayward fortune takes a spleenful joy
The wisest schemes of mortals to destroy.

The Sage, long wasted with consuming cares,
His body bending with a weight of years,
When now he felt the tyrant hand of death,
Thus to his son addrest his latest breath:

224

With painful watching and incessant pray'r,
Nine tedious months I labour'd to prepare
The precious drops this chrystal vase contains,
The rich reward of all my wasting pains.
Now mark, my son, and with attentive ear,
The virtues of our great Elixir hear.

When hast'ning age the call of fate obeys,
When the soul sickens, and the sense decays,
When all the weaken'd organs lose their tone,
The nerves relax'd, th' elastic vigour gone,
When ev'n the life-blood stagnates in my heart,
Soon as thou seest my latest breath depart,
Within my lips the sacred med'cine pour;
The draught vivific shall my soul restore;
Course thro' the veins, the springs of life renew,
And ev'ry nerve with active force endue.
So may your pious gratitude bestow
On me the life which to your Sire you owe;
And when thy soul obeys the call of fate,
To thee the precious gift will I repeat.
Thus may we oft renew the mutual boon,
Thus lose the names of Father and of Son.

He said, and sunk to death. Th' unduteous boy,
Drunk with delusive hopes of worldly joy,
And still mistrustful of his Sire's controul,
Checks ev'ry thought of duty in his soul.

225

To common earth commits the lifeless corse,
Nor hears great nature's call, or feels remorse.

And now he hastes new pleasures to explore;
Some new expence to vent his endless store.
From vice to vice, with tasteless ardour roves,
And cloy'd, ere night rejects his morning loves.

A son he had; Renatus was he nam'd:
Transmitted vice his genuine birth proclaim'd.
No generous passion warm'd his brutal breast,
But basest av'rice all his soul possest.
Suspicion, which in vicious minds supplies
Bright wisdom's post, and points the jealous eyes,
Directs the Sire his sordid soul to scan,
Who thus prepared his artful speech began.

Thou know'st, my son, thy Grandsire's virtues claim
An ample tribute from the voice of fame.
And oft have I confest this plenteous tide
Of endless treasure by his art supply'd.
Yet one important secret still remains;
One blest attainment of his pious pains.

'Twas on an hallow'd and auspicious hour,
When thus, inspired by strange prophetic pow'r,
The great Basilius spake:

Behold the yellow Lion shall go forth,
A potent monarch from the frozen North:

226

The swift-wing'd eagle from his claws shall fly,
The griffon shall but see his face and die:
The crow, cameleon, and the dragon's blood,
Mixt with the virgin's milk shall be his food;
The salamander shall his rule obey;
And all the sons of earth shall own his sway.

Thus he by figurative signs exprest
The truths that roll'd tumultuous in his breast,

227

With pray'r and fasting then the holy man
The sacred heav'n-directed work began.

Nine months within the womb of time it lay;
At length began its glories to display.

Then spake the lab'ring Sage: my son, attend;
Learn thy conception, and thy wond'rous end.
On that auspicious ever-honoured morn
Wast thou conceived, on which thy Sire was born.
The sun himself presided at thy birth;
Nor shall thy body turn to common earth.

228

The sacred influence of his virtuous ray
Exalts thine essence, and sublimes thy clay.
Thy body thus prepared, these drops shall save
From foul corruption and the loathsome grave;
Th' elixir swallow'd ere thy corse be cold,
Shall all thy limbs convert to purest gold.
Basilius thus his wond'rous art display'd,
And to my hands the precious drops convey'd.
Then, when in death, a recent corse, I lie,
Be thine the pow'rful med'cine to apply.

Renatus heard the tale with secret joy,
And thus, with frequent tears, reply'd the boy:

Obedient, I receive thy great commands;
Yet think not, that, with sacrilegious hands,
Thy son shall e'er thy dear remains abuse,
Or prostitute thy limbs to common use.
But in the consecrated fane bestow'd,
Adore at once the statue and the god:
Before thy shrine perpetual incense burn,
And filial duty to devotion turn.

Thus while he spake, he views his father's height
With rapture, and compute's his future weight.
The limbs he measures with desiring eyes,
Impatient to transmute the bulky prize.

229

Nor long laments the promised boon delay'd,
But soon with joy the breathless corse survey'd.
Then, big with hope, the potent med'cine brought,
And the rich drops pour'd, trembling, down his throat.
Already the rich drops their virtues prove;
And half the dose impell'd the limbs to move.
Up-rose the body, with a sudden bound,
And dash'd the shiver'd chrystal on the ground.
Th' elixir lost, the corse returns to dust.
Great is our ruler; all his ways are just.

Thus holy Faustus ends the wond'rous tale,
And all the great Basilius' fate bewail,
Cursing his race, degenerate: then repair,
Regardful of the day, to fervent pray'r.

Scriblerus now a crucible provides,
And spreads the glowing heat around it's sides.
Then, placed within, the fatal root calcines;
And soon his hospitable friends rejoins.

Unwitting Faustus to his guest declares
What great designs employ their present cares.
Then leads him where in solemn order sate
Th' assembled sages of th' hermetic state.

Up-rose the learned Paracelsus' heir,
And, pious, first preferr'd his solemn pray'r.
When thus: My friends, on this auspicious day,
Let each with confidence his art essay.

230

Nor shall your last attempt your art controul,
For sure some pow'r prophetic tells my soul,
That long ere Hesper's radiant lamp shall glow,
Yon mass impure in genuine gold will flow.
He said: and straitway to the furnace past,
And on the molten lead his powders cast.
No change, alas! their fancied pow'rs impart,
The boaster mourns his ineffectual art.
Again, in turn, advance the learned train
Their art to try, they try their art in vain.

When thus Scriblerus to the chiefs addrest
The secret thoughts long-lab'ring in his breast:
Ye great Adepts, thrice-honour'd Sages, hear,
And chief O! Faustus, lend a fav'ring ear.
And O! forgive that 'till this destin'd hour,
Th' unutter'd secret in my breast I bore.
Great Plutus, patron of th' hermetic art,
To me has deign'd th' elixir to impart.
Has giv'n me to possess the sacred flow'r,
Whose root alone can boast th' aurific pow'r:
Alone transmute yon mass impure and base,
And vindicate our science from disgrace.

Th' Adepts in silence witness'd their surprize,
But scann'd his garments with contemptuous eyes:
Till Faustus rose, and in his arms embraced
The tatter'd sage, and near the furnace placed.

231

When thus the race of great Bombastus spoke;
His haughty frame indignant anger shook.

O! thoughtless, shall yon mendicant engage
This arduous task which baffles ev'ry sage?
Shall hinds and beggars to that art aspire
Which foils th' attempts of Munster's learned choir?
But grant him with success and glory crown'd,
To us how grateful must his glories sound?
The voice of fame shall thus our honours stain.
“The learn'd Adepts their art essay'd in vain:
“In came a Stroller of th' empyric crew,
“And did what all those sages could not do.”

The Hero now disclaims his base disguise,
And thus with conscious dignity replies:
Behold Scriblerus, no ignoble name:
Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heav'n my fame.

So great a name amazed each hearer's breast,
A reverential awe their hearts possess'd.

232

Now on the Sage their eager eyes they bent;
And, all-suspended, wait the great event.
Thus as they stood around, Scriblerus spread
The pow'rful ashes on the molten lead.
Soon the dull mass assumed a nobler hue;
With sudden change the heighten'd colours grew.
Now Luna shines with pallid radiance bright,
Now Sol begins to dart his ruddy light;
Scriblerus' praise employ'd each raptured tongue,
And all around the loud applauses rung.

Then thus the Sage the learn'd Adepts address'd:
As yet ye see but half my art express'd:
For know, this precious med'cine boasts the pow'r
The fleeting life, departed, to restore.
Tho' cold and breathless at my feet ye lay,
My potent art should animate your clay;
Nay more, to youth recall the drooping sire,
And in his nerves infuse their pristine fire.
O! would some Sage, th' elixir's force to try,
Here in the cause of science bravely die,

233

Science should soon restore his yielded breath,
And claim her martyr from the jaws of death.
Scarce had he spoke when all with eager strife,
Stretch their bare throats and pant to meet the knife.

When lo! a casuist from the croud arose,
Their rash designs, by reas'ning to oppose.
With cited cases, points, quotations, saws,
Expounds what conscience wills, and what the laws.
If man shall murder man; the laws decide
The punishment decreed on homicide.
And this must follow, if the lawyers plead,
That tho' restor'd, the man in fact was dead.
If to your throats yourselves the weapon guide,
Th' indictment then will lie for suicide.
O! think how dreadful at the bar to stand,
For your own death by your own desp'rate hand!
What shame, what horror shall your bosoms shake
Condemn'd alive to feel the piercing stake!

The casuist's words the stagger'd croud divide;
When calmly thus the thoughtful man reply'd:
On this blest day no human blood be shed,
This day to science and to mirth decreed.
No, rather let an aged cow be brought,
While, careful, I prepare the potent draught.

234

Unscrup'lous will we drain her torpid blood,
And soon renew the meliorated flood.
Long ere the sun completes his daily round,
A frisking calf shall o'er the meadows bound.
Thus pow'rful Colchis drench'd the feeble ram,
And from the cauldron leapt a wanton lamb.

Now crown'd with wreaths an aged cow they bring,
While shouts of joy from every quarter ring.
Not in more pomp, with mystic garlands dress'd,
March'd Apis, usher'd by the Memphian priest.

Her aged veins, impatient, they divide,
And drain, at length, her slowly-ebbing tide.
They pour the med'cine, bind the weeping wound,
And leave her corse extended on the ground,

235

Confiding in the draught. Again they raise
Their voice in rapture to Scriblerus' praise.

Then Bossius spake: Sure Heav'n my soul inspires,
And prompts me to excite th' electric fires.
Raise then, my friends, the well-constructed stage,
There, placed on high, beatify the Sage,
Stripp'd of these rags unseemly to the sight,
And cloath'd with radiance and celestial light.

He said. His words the pleased assembly caught,
Who soon, obedient to his dictates, brought
Of pitch and rosin an enormous mass:
Six ample globes, and six vast tubes of glass.
From these th' Adepts a mystic structure made;
And in the midst the great Scriblerus laid
In naked majesty, tremendous sight!
Then haste to execute the solemn rite.
Yet ere they fill the chorus of his praise,
Thus spake the man long versed in fortune's ways.

Alas! my friends, forbear this rash design,
Nor crown a mortal with rewards divine.
I fear this premature, this thoughtless joy
Has raised a vice our triumphs to destroy.

236

Yes, I confess myself have felt its pow'r,
The hapless victim of this fatal hour.
I, whom in vain, Ambition strove to move,
And baffled Lust, beside yon conscious grove:
Whom not all-conqu'ring Luxury could gain,
Whom sordid Avarice assail'd in vain.

O Vanity, thou fixt and ling'ring guest,
Thou last of vices in the noble breast!
Who like the worm within the specious rind,
Prey'st undiscover'd on the fairest mind—

Thus spake the moral Sage; but thoughtless They
Whirl the loud wheel, and tune the lofty lay.
Impetuous zeal with wild unruly noise,
Breaks on his speech, and drowns his sapient voice.

And now the glass by strong attrition urged,
First the foul atmosphere around him purged.
Then at the Hero's feet began to play
A flame more brilliant than the solar ray.
The golden beams ascending now embraced
Th' illustrious Sage, and circled round his waist.
Now fixt, and by encreased effluvia fed,
Diffused a glory from his awful head.
Thus as he darts around electric fire,
To vocal hymns they tune the sounding lyre;

237

His high atchievements in their songs relate,
And hail him Monarch of th' Hermetic State.

Such honours Munster to her Hero paid;
And lambent flames around his temples play'd.

238

THE END OF THE SIXTH AND LAST BOOK.