Say, by what Witchcraft, or what Dæmon led,
Preferr't thou Litter to the Marriage Bed!
SOME fay the Devil himself is in that Mare: If fo, our Dean fhall drive him forth by Pray'r. Some think you mad, fome think you are poffeft, That Bedlam and clean Straw will fuit you beft. Vain Means, alas, this Frenzy to appease! That Straw, that Straw would heighten the Difeafe. My Bed (the Scene of all our former Joys, Witnefs two lovely Girls, two lovely Boys) Alone I prefs; in Dreams I call my Dear, I stretch my Hand, no Gulliver is there! Iwake, I rife, and fhiv'ring with the Froft, Search all the Houfe, my Gulliver is lost! Forth in the Street I rush with frantick Cries; The Windows open, all the Neighbours rise ; Where fleeps my Gulliver? O tell me where! The Neighbours anfwer, "With the Sorrel Mare. Ar early Morn, I to the Market hafte, (Studious in ev'ry Thing to please thy Taste ;) A curious Fowl and Sparagrafs I chofe, (For I remember you were fond of thofe,) Three Shillings coft the first, the last fev'n Groats; Sullen you turn from both, and call for Oats.
OTHERS bring Goods and Treasure to their Houfes, Something to deck their pretty Babes and Spouses; My only Token was a Cup like Horn,
That's made of nothing but a Lady's Corn.
'Tis not for that I grieve; no, 'tis to fee
The Groom and Sorrel Mare preferr'd to me!
THESE, for fome Moments when you deign to quit,
And (at due diftance) sweet Difcourfe admit,
'Tis all my Pleasure thy past Toil to know,
For pleas'd Remembrance builds Delight on Woe.
At ev'ry Danger pants thy Confort's Breaft,
And gaping Infants fquawl to hear the reft.
How did I tremble, when by thousands bound,
I faw thee ftretch'd on Lilliputian Ground?
When fcaling Armies climb'd up ev'ry Part,
Each Step they trod, I felt upon my Heart.
But when thy Torrent quench'd the dreadful Blaze,
King, Queen, and Nation, ftaring with Amaze,
Full in my View how all my Husband came,
And what extinguish'd theirs, increas'd my Flame.
Thofe Spectacles, ordain'd thine Eyes to fave,
Were once my Prefent; Love that Armour gave.
How did I mourn at Bolgolam's Decree !
For when he fign'd thy Death, he sentenc'd me.
WHEN Folks might fee thee all the Country round
For Six-pence, I'd have giv'n a thousand Pound.
Lord! when the Giant-Babe that Head of thine
Got in his Mouth, my Heart was up in mine!
When in the Marrow-Bone fee thee ramm'd;
Or on the House-top by the Monkey cramm'd;
The Piteous Images renew my Pain,
And all thy Dangers I weep o'er again.
But on the Maiden's Nipple when you rid,
Pray Heav'n, 'twas all a wanton Maiden did!
Glumdalelitch too! with thee I mourn her Cafe:
Heav'n guard the gentle Girl from all Disgrace!
O may the King that one Neglect forgive,
And pardon her the Fault by which I live!
Was there no other Way to set him free!
My Life, alas! I fear prov'd Death to thee.
O TEACH me,Dear, new Words to speak my Flame!
Teach me to wooe thee by thy best-lov'd Name!
Whether the Style of Grildrig please thee moft,
So call'd on Brobdingnag's stupendous Coast,
When on the Monarch's ample Hand you fate,
And hollow'd in his Ear Intrigues of State;
Or Quinbus Flefirin more Endearment brings;
When like a Mountain you look'd down on Kings:
If Ducal Nardac Lilliputian Peer,
Or Glumglum's humbler Title footh thy Ear:
Nay, wou'd kind Jove my Organs fo difpofe,
To hymn harmonious Houyhnhnm thro' the Nofe,
I'd call thee Houybnbnm, that high founding Name,
Thy Children's Noses all should twang the fame.
So might I find my loving Spoufe of Course
Endu'd with all the Virtues of a Horfe.
*To QUINBUS FLESTRIN, the Man→ Mountain. A Lilliputian Ode.
N Amaze
Loft, I gaze,
Can our Eyes
Reach thy Size?
May my Lays
Swell with Praise,
Worthy thee!
Worthy me!
Mufe inspire,
All thy Fire!
Bards of old
Of him told,
When they faid
Atlas Head
Propt the Skies:
See! and believe your Eyes?
SEE him ftride
Valleys wide,
Over Woods,
Over Floods,
When he treads,
Mountains Heads
Groan and shake:
Armies quake:
Let his Spurn
Overturn
Man and Steed,
Troops take Heed!
Left and Right,
Speed your Flight!
Left an Hoft
Beneath his Foot be loft.
TURN'D afide,
From his Hide,
Safe from Wound
Darts rebound.
From his Nofe
Clouds he blows:
When he speaks,
Thunder breaks!
When he eats,
Famine threats!
When he drinks,
Neptune fhrinks!
Nigh thy Ear,
In mid Air,
On thy Hand,
Let me ftand;
So fhall I,
Lofty Poet! touch the Sky.
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