Than straight she sees the country all around, Scatter'd with flow'ry vales, with fruitful gardens crown'd, And many a pleasant wood! As if the universal Nile Had rather water'd it than drown'd: And the transported Muse imagin'd it Charming her greedy ears, With many a heavenly song, Of nature and of art, of deep philosophy and love; While angels tune the voice, and God inspires the tongue. In vain she catches at the empty sound, In vain pursues the music with her longing eye, III. Pardon, ye great unknown, and far-exalted men, * The wild excursions of a youthful pen; * I cannot help inserting one question put to these “great unknown and far-exalted men," with their sapient response. What Swift would have thought of their dulness at a future period of his life it is vain to inquire. "Query. Since in your advertisement you make it known, that a chirurgeon is taken into your society, I have thought fit to propound the following question, withal assuring you the Forgive a young and (almost) virgin Muse, (Yet curiosity, they say, Is in her sex a crime needs no excuse) Has forced to grope her uncouth way, And all we fools, who are the greater part of it, Yet wheresoe'er you look, you'll always find matter of fact is true. A sailor on board the fleet, by an unlucky accident broke his leg, being in drink, and refusing the assistance of the surgeon of the ship, called for a piece of new tarpaulin that lay on the deck, which he rolled some turns about his leg, tying up all close with a few hoopsticks, and was able immediately to walk round the ship, never keeping his bed one day. I would know whether the cure is not to be attributed to the emplastic nature of the tarred cloth bound on strait with the hoopsticks, &c. or rather, whether it may not be solved according to the Cartesian philosophy ? "Answer. Des Cartes has less to do with this question than Copernicus, who, in a drunken fit, by the course of his brain, found out the great secret of the world's turning round; and so might our drunken sailor be inspired with this novel way of curing himself. But to the question, If the lesser focil was only broken, he might not be decumbent one day; the greater (his head being pretty light) being able to support his body; but if both the bones were broken, he could not stand, unless the splinters that were tied round his leg came below his heel, and rested upon his ham, which would take away that weight the leg would otherwise bear. Besides, the tarpaulin is a good categmatic, which, with a sober and a regular diet, might succeed, though it is no rule to walk by."-Athenian Oracle, Vol. II. p. 349. It is hardly necessary to point out to the reader, unless quali fied by nature to join the Athenian Society, that the fracture must have befallen a wooden leg. We join, like flies and wasps, in buzzing about wit. And our good brethren of the surly sect, Must e'en all herd us with their kindred fools: For though possess'd of present vogue, they've made Railing, a rule of wit, and obloquy, a trade; IV. But censure's to be understood Th' authentic mark of the elect, Th' public stamp Heaven sets on all that's great and good, Our shallow search and judgment to direct. Our wit and learning narrow as our trade; Forcing a wretched trade by beating down the sale, The wits, I mean the atheists of the age, Who fain would rule the pulpit, as they do the stage, Wond'rous refiners of philosophy, Of morals and divinity, By the new modish system of reducing all to sense, V. This hopeful sect, now it begins to see Their first and chiefest force Of solving all appearances they please, And by a fond mistake Perhaps imagine to be wond'rous wit, Justling some thousand years, till ripen'd by the sun: VI. But as for poor contented me, Who must my weakness and my ignorance confess, That this new, noble, and delightful scene, (That epidemic error and depravity, We often search contentedly the whole world round, And scorn it when 'tis found. Just so the mighty Nile has suffer'd in its fame, That feeds the huge unequal stream. By which some fondly boast they shall forever live, Won't pay th' impertinence of being known : Else why should the fam'd Lydian king, Whom all the charms of an usurped wife and state, With all that power unfelt, courts mankind to be great, Did with new unexperienc'd glories wait) Still wear, still doat on his invisible ring? VII. Were I to form a regular thought of Fame, I would not draw th' idea from an empty name; Although they praise the learning and the wit, The name and man by whom the book was writ, Yet how shall they be brought to know, Whether that very name was he, or you, or I? Less should I daub it o'er with transitory praise, And water-colours of these days: |