Page images
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

PART OF A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND

SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS

A ROMAN KNIGHT WHOM CAESAR FORCED UPON THE

STAGE

PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS

1

WHAT! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage,
And save from infamy my sinking age!
Scarce half alive, oppress'd with many a year,
What in the name of dotage drives me here?
A time there was, when glory was my guide,
Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside;
Unaw'd by pow'r, and unappall'd by fear,
With honest thrift I held my honour dear:
But this vile hour disperses all my store,
And all my hoard of honour is no more.
For ah! too partial to my life's decline,
Caesar persuades, submission must be mine;
Him I obey, whom heaven itself obeys,
Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please.
Here then at once, I welcome every shame,
And cancel at threescore a line of fame;
No more my titles shall my children tell,
The old buffoon will fit my name as well;
This day beyond its term my fate extends,
For life is ended when our honour ends.

[First printed at pp. 176-7 of Goldsmith's Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning, 1759 (ch. xii.-"Of the Stage"). The original lines are to be found in the Saturnalia of Macrobius, lib. ii. cap. vii. ed. Zeunii, pp. 369-70.]

ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND

WITH LIGHTNING1

(Imitated from the Spanish)

SURE 'twas by Providence design'd,
Rather in pity, than in hate,
That he should be, like Cupid, blind,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.

THE GIFT

TO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT GARDEN

SAY, cruel IRIS, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
What annual offering shall I make,
Expressive of my duty?

My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once e deliver,
Say would the angry fair one prize
The gift, who slights the giver?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give-and let 'em :
It gems, or gold, impart a joy,
I'll give them when I get 'em.
I'll give-but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion;
Such short-liv'd offerings but disclose
A transitory passion.

I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil:

I'll give thee--Ah! too charming maid,
I'll give thee-To the Devil.

[ First printed in The Bee, 6th October, 1759.]

[ First printed in The Bee, 13th October, 1759. It is an adaptation some lines headed Etrene à Iris in Part iii. of the Ménagiana.]

THE LOGICIANS REFUTED

IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT

LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd
As rational the human kind;
Reason, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.
Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius,
By ratiocinations specious,

1

Have strove to prove with great precision,
With definition and division,
Homo est ratione praeditum,-

[ocr errors]

But for my soul I cannot credit 'em ;
And must in spite of them maintain,
That man and all his ways are vain ;
And that this boasted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature;
That instinct is a surer guide

Than reason-boasting mortal's pride;
And that brute beasts are far before 'em
Deus est anima brutorum.

Who ever knew an honest brute

At law his neighbour prosecute,
Bring action for assault and battery,

Or friends beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd,

No politics disturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court;

They never to the levee go

To treat as dearest friend, a foe;
They never importune his Grace,

Nor ever cringe to men in place;

['First printed in The Busy Body, 18th October, 1759, with the heading:- "The following poem, written by Dr. SWIFT, is communicated to the Public by the BUSY BODY, to whom it was presented by a Nobleman of distinguished Learning and Taste." But tradition, and the early editors, ascribe the lines to Goldsmith.]

Nor undertake a dirty job,

Nor draw the quill to write for B-b.1
Fraught with invective they ne'er go,
To folks at Paternoster Row;
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,
No pickpockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honest quadrupeds;
No single brute his fellow leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each other's throats, for pay.
Of beasts, it is confessed, the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape;
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion;
But both in malice and grimaces
A courtier any ape surpasses.
Behold him humbly cringing wait
Upon a minister of state;
View him soon after to inferiors,
Aping the conduct of superiors;
He promises with equal air;
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators;

At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters,
Their master's manners still contract,
And footmen, lords and dukes can act.
Thus at the court both great and small
Behave alike, for all ape all.

A SONNET

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight;

MYRA, too sincere for feigning,

Fears th' approaching bridal night.,

[Sir Robert Walpole.]

[2 First printed in The Bee, 20th October, 1759. It is said to be an imitation of Denis Sanguin de St. Pavin, d. 1670.]

« PreviousContinue »