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Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He eat himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his breeding and his wit;
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cried, “I vow you're mighty neat.
But Lord, my friend, this savage scene!
For God's sake, come, and live with men;
Consider, mice, like men, must die,
Both small and great, both you and I :
Then spend your life in joy and sport;
(This doctrine, friend, I learnt at court.")

The veriest hermit in the nation
May yield, God knows, to strong temptation.
Away they come, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn:
("Twas on the night of a debate,
When all their lordships had sat late.)

Behold the place, where if a poet
Shind in description, he might show it;
Tell how the moonbeam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grolesco roofs, and stucco floors :
But let it (in a word) be said,
The Moon was up, and men a-bed,
The napkins white, the carpet red :
The guests withdrawn had left the treat,
And down the mice sate, tête-à-tête.

Our courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
· Que ca est bon! Ah goûtez ca !
That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing,
Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in."
Was ever such a happy swain !
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
“ I'm quite asham'd—'tis mighty rude
To eat so much—but all's so good.
I have a thousand thanks to give-
My lord alone knows how to live."
No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all :
“A rat! a rat! clap to the door!"-
The cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the heart of Homer's mice,
Or gods to save them in a trice!
(It was by Providence they think,
For your damn'd stucco has no chink.)
“An't please your honor," quoth the peasant,
“This same dessert is not so pleasant :
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread, and liberty!"

Such were the notes thy once-lov'd poet supe.
Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue
Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mours o!
With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd!
Blest in each science, blest in every strain !
Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear-in vain!
For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend,
Fond to forget the statesman in the friend ;
For Swift and him, despis'd the farce of state,
The sober follies of the wise and great;
Dextrous the craving, fawning crowd to quit,
And pleas'd to 'scape from flattery to wit.

Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear,
(A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear,)
Recall those nights that clos'd thy toilsome :
Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays,
Who, careless now of interest, fame, or fata
Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great;
Or, deeming meanest what we greatest call
Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall.

And sure, if aught below the seats divine
Can touch immortals, 'tis a soul like thine:
A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried,
Above all pain, and passion, and all pride,
The rage of power, the blast of public breath
The lust of lucre, and the dread of Death.

In vain to deserts thy retreat is made ; | The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade: 'Tis hers, the brave man's latest steps to trace, Re-judge his acts, and dignify disgrace. When interest calls off all her sneaking train, And all th'oblig'd desert, and all the vain; She waits, or to the scaffold, or the cell, When the last lingering friend has bid farewell. Ev'n now she shades thy evening-walk with bays (No hireling she, no prostitute to praise);

Ev'n now, observant of the parting ray, Eyes the calm sun-set of thy various day, Through Fortune's cloud one truly great can see, Nor fears to tell, that Mortimer is he.

JONATHAN SWIFT,

JONATHAN Swift, a person who has carried one brought him under the heavy imputation, from species of poetry, that of humorous satire, to a de- which he was never able entirely to free himself, gree never before attained, was, by his parentage, of being a scoffer against revealed religion. of English descent, but probably born in Ireland. His prospects of advancement in the political It is known that his father, also called Jonathan, career were abortive, till 1710, when the Tories having married a Leicestershire lady, died at an came into power. His connexion with this party early age, leaving a daughter, and a posthumous son. began in an acquaintance with Harley, afterwards His widow, being left in narrow circumstances, Earl of Oxford, who introduced him to secretary was invited by her husband's brother, Godwin, St. John, afterwards Lord Boling broke; and, he who resided in Dublin, to his house ; and there, it engaged the confidence of these leaders to such a is supposed, Jonathan was born, on November 30th, degree, that he was admitted to their most secret 1667. After passing some time at a school in Kil. consultations. In all his transactions with them, by kenny, he was removed to Trinity College, Dublin, was most scrupulously attentive to preserve every in his 15th year; in which university he spent seven appearance of being on an equality, and to repress years, and then obtained with difficulty the degree every thing that lookec like slight or neglect on of bachelor of arts, conferred speciali gratia. The their parts; and there probably is not another excircumstance affords sufficient proof of the misap- ample of a man of letters who has held bis head so plication of his talents to mathematical pursuits ; high in his association with men in power. This but he is said to have been at this period engaged was undoubtedly owing to that constitutional pride eight hours a day in more congenia! studies. and unsubmitting nature which governed all his

So profuse are the materials for the life of Swift, actions. that it has become almost a vain attempt to give, in A bishopric in England was the object at which a moderate compass, the events by which he was he aimed, and a vacancy on the bench occurring, distinguished from ordinary mortals; and it will he was recommended by his friends in the ministry therefore be chiefly in his character of a poetical to the Queen; but suspicions of his faith, and other composer that we shall now consider him. He was prejudices, being raised against him, he was passed early domesticated with the celebrated statesman, over; and the highest preferment which bis patrons Sir William Temple, who now lived in retirement could venture to bestow upon him was the deanery at Moor Park; but having made choice of the of St. Patrick's, in Dublin ; to which he was prechurch as his future destination, on parting in sented in 1713, and in which he continued for life. some disagreement from Temple, he went to Ire- The death of the Queen put an end to all contests land, with very moderate expectations, and took among the Tory ministers; and the change termiorders. A reconciliation with his patron brought nated Swift's prospects, and condemned him to an him back to Moor Park, where he passed his time unwilling residence in country which he always in harmony till the death of Sir William, who left disliked. On his return to Dublin, his temper was him a legacy and his papers. He then accepted severely tried by the triumph of the Whigs, who an invitation from the earl of Berkeley, one of the treated him with great indignity; but in length of Lords Justices of Ireland, to accompany him time, by a proper exercise of his clerical office, by thither as chaplain and private secretary; and he reforms introduced into the chapter of St. Patrick's, continued in the family as long as his lordship re- and by his bold and able exposures of the abuses mained in that kingdom. Here Swift began to practised in the government of Ireland, he rose to dis'inguish himself by an incomparable talent of the title of King of the Mob in that capital. writing humorous verses in the true familiar style, His conduct with respect to the female sex was several specimens of which he produced for the not less unaccountable than singular, and certainly amusement of the house. After Lord Berkeley's does no honor to his memory. Early in life he return to England, Swift went to reside at his attached himself to his celebrated Suella, whose real living at Laracor, in the diocese of Meath; and name was Johnson, the daughter of Sir William here it was that ambition began to take possession Temple's steward. Soon after his seulement at of his mind. He thought it proper to increase his Laracor, he invited her to Ireland. She caine, acconsequence by taking the degree of doctor of companied by a Mrs. Dingley, and resided near divinity in an English university; and, for the pur- the parsonage when he was at home, and in it when pose of forming connexions, he paid annual visits he was absent; nor were they ever known to lodge to that country. In 1701, he first engaged as a in the same house, or to see each other without a political writer; and, in 1704, he published, though witness. In 1716, he was privately married to her, anonymously, his celebrated “Tale of a Tub," but the parties were brought no nearer than before which, while it placed him high as a writer, dis- and the act was attended with no acknowledgment tinguished by wit and humor of a peculiar cast, that could gratify the feelings of a woman who had so long devoted herself to him. About the humorous and sarcastic was his habitual taste, year 1712, he became acquainted, in London, with which he frequently indulged beyond the bounds of Miss Esther Vanhomrigh, a young lady of fortune, decorum; a circumstance which renders the task with a taste for literature, which Swift was fond of of selection from his works somewhat perplexing. cultivating. To her he wrote the longest and most In wit, both in verse and prose, he stands foremost finished of his poems, entitled Cadenus and in grave irony, maintained with the most plausible Vanessa ; and her attachment acquired so much air of serious simplicity, and supported by great strength, that she made him the offer of her hand. minuteness of detail. His “Gulliver's Travels” Even after his marriage to Stella, Swift kept are a remarkable exemplification of his powers in Miss Vanhomrigh in ignorance of this connexion; this kind, which have rendered the work wonder. but a report of it having at length reached her, she fully amusing, even to childish readers, whilst the took the step of writing a note to Siella, requesting keen satire with which it abounds may gratify the to know if the marriage were real. Stella assured most splenetic misanthropist. In general, however, her of the affirmative in her answer, which she his style in prose, though held up as a model of inclosed to Swift, and went into the country without clearness, purity, and simplicity, bas only the merit seeing him. Swift went immediately to the house of expressing the author's meaning with perfect of Miss Vanhomrigh, threw Stella's letter on the precision. table, and departed, without speaking a word. She Late in life, Swift fell under the fate which he never recovered the shock, and died in 1723. dreaded : the faculties of his mind decayed before Stella, with her health entirely ruined, languished those of his body, and he gradually settled into abon till 1728, when she expired. Such was the fate solute idiocy. A wtal silence for some months which he prepared for both.

preceded his decease, which took place in October, Of the poems of Swift, some of the most striking 1744, when he was in his 781h year. He was inwere composed in mature life, after his attainment terred in St. Patrick's cathedral, under a monuof his deanery of St. Patrick; and it will be ad- ment, for which he wrote a Latin epitaph, in which mitted that no one ever gave a more perfect ex. one clause most energetically displays the state of ample of the easy familiarity attainable in the his feelings :—“Ubi sæva indignatio ulterius cor English language. His readiness in rhyme is lacerare nequit.” He bequeathed the greatest part truly astonishing; the most uncommon associations of his property to an hospital for lunatics and of sounds coming to him as it were spontaneously, idiots, in words seemingly the best adapted to the occasion. That he was capable of high polish and elegance,

To show, by one satiric touch, some of his works sufficiently prove; but the

No nation wanted it so much.

CADENUS AND VANESSA.*

WRITTEN AT WINDSOR, 1713.

The shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian queen.
The counsel for the fair began,
Accusing the false creature man.
The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd,
On which the pleader much enlarg'd;
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart ;-
His altar now no longer smokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes :
This tempts freethinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine ;
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)

Against our sovereign lady's peace,
Against the statute in that case,
Against her dignity and crown:
Then pray'd an answer, and sat down.

The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lack'd,
With impudence own'd all the fact;
But, what the gentlest heart would vex
Laid all the fault on t'other sex.
That modern love is no such thing
As what those ancient poets sing ;
A fire celestial, chaste, refin'd,
Conceiv'd and kindled in the mind ;
Which, having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the same,
In different breasts together burn,
Together both to ashes turn.
But women now feel no such fire,
And only know the gross desire.
Their passions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers.
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
Or some worse brute in human shape,
Engross the fancies of the fair,
The few soft moments they can spare,

Founded on an offer of marriage made by Miss Von. homrigh to Dr. Swift, who was occasionally her preceplor. The lady's unhappy story is well known.

From visits to receive and pay;

For Cowley's briefs, and pleas of Waller. From scandal, politics, and play ;

Still their authority was smaller. From fans, and flounces, and brocades,

There was on both sides much to say: From equipage and park-parades,

She'd hear the cause another day. From all the thousand female toys,

And so she did ; and then a third From every trifle that employs

She heard it—there, she kept her word: The out or inside of their heads,

But, with rejoinders or replies, Between their toilets and their beds.

Long bills, and answers stuff 'd with lies, In a dull stream, which moving slow,

Demur, imparlance, and essoign, You hardly see the current flow;

The parties ne'er could issue join : If a small breeze obstruct the course,

For sixteen years the cause was spun, It whirls about, for want of force,

And then stood where it first begun. And in its narrow circle gathers

Now, gentle Clio, sing or say, Nothing but chaff, and straws, and feathers What Venus meant by this delay. The current of a female mind

The goddess, much perplex'd in mind Stops thus, and turns with every wind;

To see her empire thus declin’d, Thus whirling round together draws

When first this grand debate arose, Fools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws. Above her wisdom to compose, Hence we conclude, no women's hearts

Conceiv'd a project in her head Are won by virtue, wit, and parts :

To work her ends; which, if it sped, Nor are the men of sense to blame,

Would show the merits of the cause For breasts incapable of flame;

Far better than consulting laws. The fault must on the nymphs be plac'd,

In a glad hour Lucina's aid Grown so corrupted in their taste.

Produc'd on Earth a wondrous maid, The pleader, having spoke his best,

On whom the queen of love was bent Had witness ready to attest,

To try a new experiment. Who fairly could on oath depose,

She threw her law-books on the shelf, When questions on the fact arose,

And thus debated with herself. That every article was true;

“Since men allege, they ne'er can find Nor further these deponents knew :

Those beauties in a female mind, Therefore he humbly would insist,

Which raise a flame that will endure The bill might be with costs dismiss'd.

For ever uncorrupt and pure ; The cause appear'd of so much weight,

If 'tis with reason they complain, That Venus, from her judgment-seat,

This infant shall restore my reign. Desir'd them not to talk so loud,

I'll search where every virtue dwells, Else she must interpose a cloud :

From courts inclusive down to cells : For, if the heavenly folk should know

What preachers talk, or sages write ; These pleadings in the courts below,

These I will gather and unite, That mortals here disdain to love,

And represent them to mankind She ne'er could show her face above;

Collected in that infant's mind." For gods, their betters, are too wise

This said, she plucks in heaven's high bowers To value that which men despise.

A sprig of amaranthine flowers, " And then," said she, “my son and I

In nectar thrice infuses bays, Must stroll in air, 'twixt land and sky;

Three times refin'd in Titan's rays; Or else, shut out from heaven and earth,

Then calls the Graces to her aid, Fly to the sea, my place of birth ;

And sprinkles thrice the new-born maid: There live, with daggled mermaids pent,

From whence the tender skin assumes And keep on fish perpetual Lent.”

A sweetness above all perfumes : But, since the case appear'd so nice,

From whence a cleanliness remains She thought it best to take advice.

Incapable of outward stains : The Muses, by their king's permission,

From whence that decency of mind, Though foes to love, attend the session,

So lovely in the female kind, And on the right hand took their places

Where not one careless thought intrudes, In order ; on the left, the Graces :

Less modest than the speech of prudes; To whom she might her doubts propose

Where never blush was call'd in aid, On all emergencies that rose.

That spurious virtue in a maid, The Muses oft were seen to frown;

A virtue but at second-hand ; The Graces half-asham'd look down ;

They blush because they understand. And 'Iwas observ'd there were but few

The Graces next would act their part, Of either sex among the crew,

And show'd but little of their art; Whom she or her assessors knew.

Their work was half already done, The goddess soon began to see,

The child with native beauty shone ; Things were not ripe for a decree :

The outward form no help requir'd: And said she must consult her books,

Each, breathing on her thrice, inspir’d The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, Cokes.

That gentle, soft, engaging air, First to a dapper clerk she beckon'd,

Which in old times adorn'd the fair : To turn to Ovid, book the second ;

And said, “Vanessa be the name She then referr'd them to a place

By which thou shalt be known to fame; In Virgil (vide Dido's case :)

Vanessa, by the gods enrollid: As for Tibullus's, reports,

Her name on Earth shall not be told." They never pass'd for law in courts :

But still the work was not complete;
When Venus thought on a deceit:
Drawn by her doves, away she flies,
And finds out Pallas in the skies.
“Dear Pallas, I have been this morn
To see a lovely infant born;
A boy in yonder isle below,
So like my own without his bow,
By beauty could your heart be won,
You'd swear it is Apollo's son:
But it shall ne'er be said a child
So hopeful has by me been spoil'd ;
I have enough besides to spare,
And give him wholly to your care.”

Wisdom 's above suspecting wiles :
The queen of learning gravely smiles,
Down from Olympus comes with joy,
Mistakes Vanessa for a boy ;
Then sows within her tender mind
Seeds long unknown to woman-kind;
For manly bosoms chiefly fit,
The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit,
Her soul was suddenly endued
With justice, truth, and fortitude ;
With honor, which no breath can stain,
Which malice must attack in vain;
With open heart and bounteous hand.
But Pallas here was at a stand;
She knew, in our degenerate days,
Bare virtue could not live on praise ;
That meat must be with money bought:
She therefore, upon second thought,
Infus'd, yet as it were by stealth,
Some small regard for state and wealth ;
Of which, as she grew up, there staid
A tincture in the prudent maid :
She manag'd her estate with care,
Yet lik'd three footmen to her chair.
But lest he should neglect his studies
Like a young heir, the thrifty goddess
(For fear young master should be spoil'd)
Would use him like a younger child ;
And, after long computing, found
"Twould come to just five thousand pound.

The queen of love was pleas'd, and proud,
To see Vanessa thus endow'd :
She doubted not but such a dame
Through every breast would dart a flame;
That every rich and lordly swain
With pride would drag about her chain;
That scholars would forsake their books,
To study bright Vanessa's looks ;
As she advanc'd, that woman-kind
Would by her model form their mind,
And all their conduct would be tried
By her, as an unerring guide ;
Offending daughters oft would hear
Vanessa's praise rung in their ear:
Miss Betty, when she does a fault,
Lets fall her knife, or spills the salt,
Will thus be by her mother chid,
“ 'Tis what Vanessa never did!”
"Thus by the nymphs and swains ador'd,
My power shall be again restor’d,
And happy lovers bless my reign—"
So Venus hop'd, but hop'd in vain.

For when in time the martial maid
Found out the trick that Venus play'd,
She shakes her helm, she knits her brows,
And, fir'd with indignation, vows,

To-morrow, ere the setting sun,
She'd all undo that she had done.

But in the poeis we may find
A wholesome law, time out of mind,
Had been confirm'd by fate's decree,
That gods, of whatsoe'er degree,
Resume not what themselves have given.
Or any brother-god in Heaven ;
Which keeps the peace among the gods,
Or they must always be at odds:
And Pallas, if she broke the laws,
Must yield her foe the stronger cause ;
A shame to one so much ador'd
For wisdom at Jove's council-board.
Besides, she fear'd the queen of love
Would meet with better friends above.
And though she must with grief reflect,
To see a mortal virgin deck'd
With graces hitherto unknown
To female breasts, except her own;
Yet she would act as best became
A goddess of unspotted fame.
She knew, by augury divine,
Venus would fail in her design;
She studied well the point, and found
Her foe's conclusions were not sound,
From premises erroneous brought;
And therefore the deduction's nought,
And must have contrary effects
To what her treacherous foe expects.

In proper season Pallas meets The queen of love, whom thus she greets. (For gods, we are by Homer told, Can in celestial language scold :) “ Perfidious goddess! but in vain You form'd this project in your brain; A project for thy talents fit, With much deceit and little wit. Thou hast, as thou shalt quickly see, Deceiv'd thyself, instead of me: For how can heavenly wisdom prove An instrument to earthly love ? Know'st thou not yet, that men commence Thy votaries, for want of sense ? Nor shall Vanessa be the theme To manage thy abortive scheme : See 'll prove the greatest of thy foes ; And yet I scorn to interpose, But, using neither skill nor fotce, Leave all things to their natural course."

The goddess thus pronounc'd her doom.
When, lo! Vanessa in her bloom
Advaac'd, like Atalanta's star,
But rarely seen, and seen from far:
In a new world with caution stept,
Watch'd all the company she kept,
Well knowing, from the books she read,
What dangerous paths young virgins tread;
Would seldom at the park appear,
Nor saw the play-house twice a year ;
Yet, not incurious, was inclin'd.
To know the converse of mankind.

First issued from perfumers' shops,
A crowd of fashionable fops :
They ask'd her, how she likid the play?
Then told the tattle of the day :
A duel fought last night at two,
About a lady-you know who;
Mention'd a new Italian come
Either from Muscovy or Rome ;

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