THE DUNCIAD

Book the Third

But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd,

On Dulness lap th' Anointed head reposed.

Him close she curtained round with vapors blue,

And soft besprinkled with Cimmerian dew.

Then Raptures high the seat of sense o'erflow, 5

Which only heads refin'd from reason know:

Hence, from the straw where Bedlam's Prophet nods,

He hears loud Oracles, and talks with Gods;

Hence the Fool's paradise, the Statesman's scheme,

The air-built Castle, and the golden Dream, 10

The Maid’s romantic wish, the Chymist's flame

And Poet's vision of eternal fame.

And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd,

The King descended to th' Elyzian shade.

There, in a dusky vale where Lethe rolls, 15

Old Bavius sits, to dip poetic souls,

And blunt the sense, and fit it for a skull

Of solid proof, impenetrably dull.

Instant when dipt, away they wing their flight,

Where * Brown and Mears unbar the gates of Light, 20

Demand new bodies, and in Calf's array

Rush to the world, impatient for the day.

Millions and millions on these banks he views,

Thick as the Stars of night, or morning-dews,

As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly, 25

As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory.

* Booksellers

Wond'ring he gazed: when lo! A Sage appears,

By his broad shoulders known, and length of ears,

Known by the band and suit which Settle wore,

(His only suit) for twice three years before, 30

All as the Vest, appear'd the wearer's frame,

Old in new state, another yet the same.

Bland and familiar as in life, begun

Thus the great Father to the greater Son.

Oh born to see what none can see awake! 35

Behold the wonders of th' Oblivious Lake.

Thou, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred shore,

The hand of Bavius drench'd thee o'er and o'er.

But blind to former, as to future, Fate,

What mortal knows his pre-existent state? 40

Who knows how long, thy transmigrating soul

Did from Bœotian to Bœotian roll?

How many Dutchmen she vouchsaf'd to thrid?

How many stages thro' old Monks she rid?

And all who since, in mild benighted days, 45

Mix'd the Owl's ivy with the Poet's bays?

As Man’s maeanders to the vital spring

Roll all their tydes, then back their circles bring;

Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain,

Suck the thread in, then yield it out again: 50

All nonsense thus, of old or modern date,

Shall in thee centre, from thee circulate.

For this, our Queen unfolds to vision true

Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view:

Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind, 55

Shall first recall'd, rush forward to thy mind;

Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising reign,

And let the past and future fire thy brain.

Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands

Her boundless Empire over seas and lands. 60

See round the Poles where keener spangles shine,

Where spices smoke beneath the burning Line,

Earth's wide extrearas) her sable flag display'd:

And all the nations cover'd in her shade!

Far Eastward cast thy eye, from whence the Sun 65

And orient Science at a birth begun.

One man immortal all that pride confounds,

He, whose long Wall the wand'ring Tartar bounds.

* Heav'ns!' what a pile! whole ages perish there:

And one bright blaze turns Learning into air. 70

* Ho-am-ti, Emperor of China, the same who built the great wall between China and Tartary, destroyed all the books and learned men of that empire.

Thence to the South as far extend thy eyes;

There rival flames with equal glory rise,

From shelves to shelves † see greedy Vulcan roll,

And lick up all their Physick of the Soul.

† The Caliph, Omar I. Having conquer’d Ægypt caus’d his General to burn Ptolomæan library, on the gates of which was this inscription, Medicina Animæ.

How little, see! that portion of the ball, 75

Where, faint at best, the beams of Science fall.

Against her throne, from Hyperborean skies,

In dulness strong, th’ avenging Vandals rise;

Lo where Mœotis sleeps, and hardly flows

The freezing Tanais thro' a waste of snows, 80

The North by myriads pours her mighty sons,

Great nurse of Goths, of Alans and of Huns.

See Alaric's stern port, the martial frame

Of Genseric, and Attila’s dread name!

See! the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall; 85

See! the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul.

See! where the morning gilds the palmy shore,

(The soil that arts and infant letters bore)

His conqu'ring tribes th' Arabian prophet draws,

And saving Ignorance enthrones by Laws. 90

See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep,

And all the Western World believe and sleep.

Lo Rome herself, proud mistress now no more

Of arts, but thund’ring against Heathen lore;

Her gray-hair'd Synods damning books unread, 95

And Bacon trembling for his brazen Head.

Lo statues, temples, theatres o'erturn’d,

Oh glorious ruin! and Apelles burn'd.

See'st thou an Isle, by Palmers, Pilgrims trod,

Men bearded, bald, cowl'd uncowl'd, shod, unshod, 100

Peel'd, patch'd, and pieball’d, linsey-woolsey brothers,

Grave mummers sleeveless some, and shirtless others.

That once was Britain — Happy! had she seen

No fiercer sons, had * Easter never been.

In peace, great Goddess! ever be ador'd; 105

How keen the war, if dulness draw the sword?

Thus visit not thy own! on this blest age

Oh spread thy Influence, but restrain thy Rage!

‡ Wars in England anciently, about the right time of celebrating Easter.

And see my son, the hour is on its way

That lifts our Goddess to imperial sway: 110

This fav'rite Isle, long sever'd from her reign,

Dove-like, she gathers to her wings again.

Now look thro' Fate! behold the scene she draws!

What aids, what armies, to assert her cause!

See all her progeny, illustrious sight! 115

Behold, and count them, as they rise to light.

As Berecynthia, while her offspring vye

In homage, to the mother of the sky,

Surveys around her in the blest abode

A hundred sons, and ev'ry son a God. 120

Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd,

Shall take thro' Grubstreet her triumphant round,

And all Parnassus glancing o'er at once,

Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce.

Mark first the youth who takes the foremost place 125

And thrusts his person full into your face.

With all thy Father's virtues blest, be born!

And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn.

See yet a younger, by his blushes known,
And modest as the maid who sips alone: 130

From the strong fate of drams if thou get free,

Another Durfey, * * * shall sing in thee.

For thee each Ale-house, and each Gill-house mourn,

And snsw'ring Gin-shops sowrer sighs return.

Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd; 135

How like their manners, and how like their mind!

Fam'd for good-nature, Burnet and for truth;

Ducket for pious passion to the youth.

Equal in wit, and equally polite,

Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler, write; 140

Like are their merits, like rewards they share,

That shines a Consul, this Commissioner.

Ah Dennis, Gildon ah! what ill-starred rage

Divides a friendship long confirmed by age?

Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, 145

But fool with fool is barb'rous, civil war.

Embrace, embrace my Sons! be foes no more!

Nor glad vile Poets with true Criticks' gore.

See next two slip-shod Muses traipse along,

In lofty madness meditating song, 150

With tresses staring from poetic dreams,

And never wash'd, but in Castalia’s streams,

Haywood and Thomas, Glories of their race!

Lo Horneck's fierce, and Michel’s rueful face!

Woolston, the sourge of Scripture, mark with awe! 155

And mighty Jacob, Blunderbus of Law!

Lo thousand thousand, ev'ry nameless name,

All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame?

How proud! how pale! how earnest all appear!

How rhymes eternal gingle in their ear! 160

Pass these to nobler sights: Lo Henly stands

Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands,

How honey'd nonsense trickles from his tongue!

How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung!

Still break the benches, Henly with thy strain, 165

While Kennet, Br—d, W—n preach in vain.

Round him, each Science by its modern type

Stands known; Divinity with box and pipe,

And proud Philosophy with breeches tore,

And English Musick with a dismal score: 170

While happier Hist’ry with her comrade Ale,

Sooths the sad series of her tedious tale.

Fast by, in darkness palpable inshrin'd

Watts, Baker, Millbourn, all the poring kind,

A lumberhouse of Books in ev'ry head, 175

Are ever reading, and are never read.

But who is he, in closet close y-pent,

With visage from his shelves with dust besprent?

Right well mine eyes arede that myster wight,

That wonnes in haulkes and hernes, and Herne he hight. 180

To future ages may thy dulness last,

As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past!

But oh! what scenes, what miracles behind?

Now stretch thy view, and open all thy mind.

He look'd, and saw a sable *seer arise, 185

Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies,

All sudden, gorgons hiss, and dragons glare,

And ten-horn'd fiends and giants threaten war.

Hell rises, Heav'n descends, to dance on Earth,

Gods, monsters, furies, musick, rage, and mirth; 190

A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball,

Till one wide conflagration swallows all.

* Dr. Faustus, the subject of a set of Farces which lasted in vogue two or three seasons, in which both Play-houses strove to outdo each other in the years 1726, 27. All the extravagancies in the sixteen lines following were introduced on the Stge, and frequented by persons of the first quality in England to the twentieth and thirtieth time.

Then a new world, to nature's laws unknown,

Refulgent rises, with a heav'n its own:

Another Cynthia her new journey runs, 195

And other planets circle other suns:

The forests dance, the rivers upward rise,

Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies,

And last, to give the whole creation grace,

Lo! one vast Egg produces human race. 200

Silent the monarch gaz'd; yet asked in thought

What God or Dæmon all these wonders wrought?

To whom the Sire: In yonder cloud, behold,

Whose sarcenet skirts are edg'd with flamy gold,

A godlike youth: See Jove’s own bolt he flings, 205

Rolls the loud thunder, and the light'ning wings!

Angel of Dulness. sent to scatter round

Her magic charms on all unclassic ground:

Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher,

Illumes their light, and sets their flames on fire. 210

Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease,

Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease!

And proud his mistress' orders to perform,

Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

But lo! to dark encounter in mid air 215

New wizards rise: here Booth, and Cibber there.

Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd,

On grinning dragons Cibber mounts the wind:

Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din,

Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln's-Inn; 220

Contending Theatres our empire raise,

Alike their labours, and alike their praise.

And are these wonders, Son, to thee unknown?

Unknown to thee? These wonders are thy own.

These, Fate reserv'd to grace thy reign divine, 225

Forseen by me, but ah! withheld from mine.

In Lud's old walls, tho' long I rul'd renown’d,

Far as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound;

Tho’ my own Aldermen conferr'd my bays,

To me committing their eternal praise, 230

Their full-fed Heroes, their pacific May'rs,

Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars.

Tho’ † long my Party built on me their hopes,

For writing pamphlets, and for roasting Popes

(Different our parties, but with equal grace

Our Goddess smiles on Whig and Tory race,

'Tis the same rope at sev'ral ends they twist,

To Dulness, Ridpath is as dear as Mist.)

Yet lo! in me what Authors have to brag on!

Reduc'd at last to hiss in my own dragon. 240

Avert it, heav'n! that thou or Cibber e'er

Should wag two serpent tails in Smithfield fair.

Like the vile straw that's blown about the streets,

The needy Poet sticks to all he meets,

Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now fast, 245

In the Dog's tail his progress ends at last.

Happier thy fortunes! like a rolling stone,

Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on,

Safe in its heaviness, can never stray,

And licks up every blockhead in the way. 250

Thy dragons Peers and Potentates shall taste,

And from each show rise duller than the last:

Till rais'd from Booths to Theatre, to Court,

Her seat imperial/ Dulness shall transport.

(Already, Opera prepares the way, 255

The sure fore-runner of her gentle sway.)

To aid her cause, if heav'n thou can'st not bend,

Hell thou shalt move; for Faustus is thy friend:

Pluto with Cato thou for her shalt join,

And link the Mourning-Bride to Proserpine. 260

Grubstreet! thy fall should men and Gods conspire,

Thy stage shall stand, ensure it but from Fire.

Another Æschylus appears! prepare

For new * Abortions, all ye pregnant Fair!

In flames, like Semele’s, be brought to bed, 265

While opening Hell spouts wild-fire at your head.

† Settle was once famous for party papers, but very uncertain in his political principles. He was employ’d to hold the pen in the Character of a popish successor, but afterwards printed his Narrative on the contrary side.

He managed the ceremony and pageants at the burnong of a famous Pope, ans was at length employ’d in making the machinery at Bartholomew fair, where, in his old age he acted in a dragon of leather of his own invention.

* It is reported of Æschylus that when his Tragedy of the Eumenides was acted, the audience were so terrified that the children fell into fits, and the bigbelly’d women miscarry’d. T—d is translating this Author.

Now Bavius, take the poppy from thy brow,

And place it here! here all ye Heroes bow!

This, this is He, foretold by ancient rhymes,

Th’Augustus, born to bring Saturnian times! 270

Beneath his reign, shall Eusden wear the bays,

Cibber preside Lord-Chancellor of Plays,

Benson sole Judge of Architecture sit,

And Ambrose Philips be prefer'd for Wit!

I see th' unfinish'd Dormitory wall! 275

I see the Savoy totter to her fall!

The sons of Isis reel! the towns-men sport;

And Alma Mater all dissolv'd in Port!

Then, when these signs declare the Mighty Year,

When the dull stars roll round and re-appear; 280

Let there be darkness! (the dread pow'r shell say)

All shall be darkness, as it ne'er were Day;

To their first Chaos Wit's vain works shall fall,

And Universal Dulness cover all!

No more the Monarch could such raptures bear; 285

He wak'd, and all the Vision mix'd with air.

F I N I S