(And then how much a nothing is mankind! 180 Whofe reafon is weigh'd down by popular air, Who by that vainly talks of baffling death; And hopes to lengthen life by a transfufion of breath,

Which yet whoe'er examines right will find To be an art as vain as bottling up of wind): 185 And when you find out these, believe true fame is there,

Far above all reward, yet to which all is due ; And this, ye great unknown, is only known in you. VIII.

The juggling fea-god, when by chance trepann'd By fome inftructed querift fleeping on the fand, 190 Impatient of all anfwers, ftrait became

A ftealing brook, and ftrove to creep away

Into his native fea,

Vex'd at their follies. murmur'd in his stream; But difappointed of his fond defire,

Would vanifh in a pyramid of fire.

This furly, flipp'ry god. when he defign'd
To furnifh his efcapes,

Ne'er borrow'd more variety of shapes
Than you to pleafe and fatisfy mankind,

195

200

And feem (almoft) transform'd to water, flame,

and air,

So well you answer all phenomenas there : Tho' madmen and the wits, philofophers and fools, With all that factious, or enthufiaftic dotards dream, And all the incoherent jargon of the schools; 205 Though all the fumes of fear, hope, love and

fhame,

Contrive to fhock your mind with many a fenfeless doubt;

Doubts where the Delphic god would grope in ignorance and night,

The god of learning and of light

Would want a god himself to help him out. 210

* Θεός ἀπὸ μήχανης

IX. Philofophy

IX.

Philofophy, as it before us lies,

Seems to have borrow'd fome ungrateful tafte
Of doubts, impertinence, and niceties,

From ev'ry age through which it pafs'd,
But always with aftronger relifh of the last.
This beauteous queen, by heav'n defign'd
To be the great original

215

For man to drefs and polish his uncourtly mind,
In what mock-habits have they put her fince the fall!
More oft in fools and madmens hands than fages.
She feems a medly of all ages,

With a huge fardingal to fwell her fuftian stuff,
A new commode, a top-knot and a ruff,
Her face patch'd o'er with modern pedantry,
With a long sweeping train

Of comments and difputes, ridiculous and vain,
All of old cut with a new die :

How foon you have reftor'd her charms,
And rid her of her lumber and her books,
Drefs'd her again genteel and neat,

And rather tight than great,

How fond we are to court her to our arms!
How much of heav'n is in her naked looks!

X.

221

225

230

Thus the deluding mufe oft blinds me to her ways,

And ev'n my very thoughts transfers

And changes all to beauty and the praise
Of that proud tyrant fex of hers.
The rebel mufe, alas, takes part
But with my own rebellious heart,

And

235

you with fatal and immortal wit confpire 240 To fan th' unhappy fire.

Cruel unknown! what is it you intend? (friend! Ah, could you, could you hope a poet for your Rather forgive what my first transport said:

May all the blood, which fhall by woman's fcorn be

fhed,

245

Lie

upon you, and on your childrens head; For you (ah, did I think I e'er should live to fee The fatal time when that could be !)

Have e'en increas'd their pride and cruelty. Woman feems now above all vanity grown, 250Still boafting of her great unknown

Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile, Or the vast charges of a fmile;

Which 'tis a fhame to fee how much of late You've taught the covetous wretches to o'er-rate, And which they've now the confcience to weigh 256 In the fame balance with our tears,

And with fuch fcanty wages pay The bondage and the flavery of years,

[us,

261

Let the vain fex dream on, their empire comes from
And had they common generofity,
They would not use us thus.

Well-though you have rais'd her to this high
Ourselves are rais'd as well as fhe

And spite of all that they or you can do, 'Tis pride and happinfs enough to me Still to be of the fame exalted fex with you.

XI.

Alas, how fleeting, and how vain,

[degree,

265

Is even the nobler man, our learning and our wit! I figh whene'er I think of it!

As at the clofing an unhappy scene

279

Of fome great king and conq'rors's death, When the fad melancholy mufe

275

Stays but to catch his utmost breath,
I grieve, this noble work fo happily begun,
So quickly and fo wonderfully carry'd on,
Muft fall at laft to intereft, folly, and abufe.
There is a noon-tide in our lives,
Which still the fooner it arrives,
Although we boaft our winter fun looks bright,
And foolishly are glad to fet it at its height,
Yet fo much fooner comes the long and gloomy
night.

VOL. VIII.

281

No

No conqueft ever yet begun,

And by one mighty hero carried to its height,
E'er flourish'd under a fucceffor or a fon;

285

It loft fome mighty pieces through all hands it past,
And vanith'd to an empty title in the last.
For when the animating mind is fled,
(Which Nature never can retain,
Nor e'er call back again),

200

The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead. XII.

295

And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare, With what unhappy men fhall dare To be fucceffors to thefe great unknown, On learning's high establish'd throne. Cenfure, and Pedantry, and Pride, Numberless nations, ftretching far and wide, Shall (I forefee it) foon with Gothic fwarms come From Ignorance's univerfal north,

[forth And with blind rage break all this peaceful go

vernment :

Yet fhall these traces of your wit remain,

Like a just map, to tell the vaft extent
Of conqueft in your fhort and happy reign :
And to all future mankind fhew
How ftrange a paradox is true,

300

305.

That men, who liv'd and dy'd without a name, Are the chief heroes in the facred lift of faine,

TOLAND'S

TOLAND'S Invitation to DrSMAL, to dine with the CALVES-HEAD CLUB *,

Imitated from HORACE, Epift. 5. lib. 1.

IF, deareft Difmal, you for once can dine
Upon a fingle fish and tavern wine,
T-1-nd to you this invitation sends,
To eat the calves head with your trusty friends.
Sufpend a while your vain ambitious hopes,
Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes.

Si potes archaicis convivia recumbere lectis,
Nec modica coenare times olus omne patella;
Supremo te fole domi, Torquate manebo.

* * * * *

*

*

*

Mitte leves fpes, et certamina divitiarum,

The members of the Calves-head club were about fixteen of the greatest men in England. They dined once a week at each others houses, or at taverns, if more convenient, by rotation. Swift wrote this invitation in December 1711, occafioned by his friend the Lord Treasurer Oxford's hinting to him one evening, that he wished a ballad were made on the Earl of ***. The ballad, which, according to Swift's obfervation, is two degrees above Grubstreet, was written and fent to the press the next morning; and when it was brought by the printer to that famous and grand fociety, whereof Swift was a member, and read by one of the company, it made them all laugh a dozen times; as we are told in a letter from Swift to Stella. It has abundance of wit and humour, ftrangely adapted to the proceedings and outrage of the Woigs at that particular jun&ture; and will gratify the men of taste and spirit, who are all of them admirers of the Doctor. Swift.

Z 2

Ta.