The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume I Part 16

ON ANOTHER WINDOW[1]

A bard, on whom Phoebus his spirit bestow'd, Resolving t'acknowledge the bounty he owed, Found out a new method at once of confessing, And making the most of so mighty a blessing: To the G.o.d he'd be grateful; but mortals he'd chouse, By making his patron preside in his house; And wisely foresaw this advantage from thence, That the G.o.d would in honour bear most of th'expense; So the bard he finds drink, and leaves Phoebus to treat With the thoughts he inspires, regardless of meat.

Hence they that come hither expecting to dine, Are always fobb'd off with sheer wit and sheer wine.

[Footnote 1: Written by Dr. Delany, in conjunction with Stella, as appears from the verses which follow.--_Scott_.]

APOLLO TO THE DEAN.[1] 1720

Right Trusty, and so forth--we let you know We are very ill used by you mortals below.

For, first, I have often by chemists been told, (Though I know nothing on't,) it is I that make gold; Which when you have got, you so carefully hide it, That, since I was born, I hardly have spied it.

Then it must be allow'd, that, whenever I s.h.i.+ne, I forward the gra.s.s, and I ripen the vine; To me the good fellows apply for relief, Without whom they could get neither claret nor beef: Yet their wine and their victuals, those curmudgeon lubbards Lock up from my sight in cellars and cupboards.

That I have an ill eye, they wickedly think, And taint all their meat, and sour all their drink.

But, thirdly and lastly, it must be allow'd, I alone can inspire the poetical crowd: This is gratefully own'd by each boy in the College, Whom, if I inspire, it is not to my knowledge.

This every pretender in rhyme will admit, Without troubling his head about judgment or wit.

These gentlemen use me with kindness and freedom, And as for their works, when I please I may read 'em.

They lie open on purpose on counters and stalls, And the t.i.tles I view, when I s.h.i.+ne on the walls.

But a comrade of yours, that traitor Delany, Whom I for your sake have used better than any, And, of my mere motion, and special good grace, Intended in time to succeed in your place, On Tuesday the tenth, seditiously came, With a certain false trait'ress, one Stella by name, To the Deanery-house, and on the North gla.s.s, Where for fear of the cold I never can pa.s.s, Then and there, vi et armis, with a certain utensil, Of value five s.h.i.+llings, in English a pencil, Did maliciously, falsely, and trait'rously write, While Stella, aforesaid, stood by with a[3] light.

My sister[2] hath lately deposed upon oath, That she stopt in her course to look at them both; That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding; And still as he writ, stood smiling and reading: That her eyes were as bright as myself at noon-day, But her graceful black locks were all mingled with grey: And by the description, I certainly know, 'Tis the nymph that I courted some ten years ago; Whom when I with the best of my talents endued, On her promise of yielding, she acted the prude: That some verses were writ with felonious intent, Direct to the North, where I never once went: That the letters appear'd reversed through the pane, But in Stella's bright eyes were placed right again; Wherein she distinctly could read ev'ry line,[4]

And presently guessed the fancy was mine.

She can swear to the Parson whom oft she has seen At night between Cavan Street and College Green.

Now you see why his verses so seldom are shown, The reason is plain, they are none of his own; And observe while you live that no man is shy To discover the goods he came honestly by.

If I light on a thought, he will certainly steal it, And when he has got it, find ways to conceal it.

Of all the fine things he keeps in the dark, There's scarce one in ten but what has my mark; And let them be seen by the world if he dare, I'll make it appear they are all stolen ware.

But as for the poem he writ on your sash, I think I have now got him under my lash; My sister transcribed it last night to his sorrow, And the public shall see't, if I live till to-morrow.

Thro' the zodiac around, it shall quickly be spread In all parts of the globe where your language is read.

He knows very well, I ne'er gave a refusal, When he ask'd for my aid in the forms that are usual: But the secret is this; I did lately intend To write a few verses on you as my friend: I studied a fortnight, before I could find, As I rode in my chariot, a thought to my mind, And resolved the next winter (for that is my time, When the days are at shortest) to get it in rhyme; Till then it was lock'd in my box at Parna.s.sus; When that subtle companion, in hopes to surpa.s.s us, Conveys out my paper of hints by a trick (For I think in my conscience he deals with old Nick,) And from my own stock provided with topics, He gets to a window beyond both the tropics, There out of my sight, just against the north zone, Writes down my conceits, and then calls them his own; And you, like a cully, the bubble can swallow: Now who but Delany that writes like Apollo?

High treason by statute! yet here you object, He only stole hints, but the verse is correct; Though the thought be Apollo's, 'tis finely express'd; So a thief steals my horse, and has him well dress'd.

Now whereas the said criminal seems past repentance, We Phoebus think fit to proceed to his sentence.

Since Delany hath dared, like Prometheus his sire, To climb to our region, and thence to steal fire; We order a vulture in shape of the Spleen, To prey on his liver, but not to be seen.

And we order our subjects of every degree To believe all his verses were written by me: And under the pain of our highest displeasure, To call nothing his but the rhyme and the measure.

And, lastly, for Stella, just out of her prime, I'm too much revenged already by Time, In return of her scorn, I sent her diseases, But will now be her friend whenever she pleases.

And the gifts I bestow'd her will find her a lover Though she lives till she's grey as a badger all over.

[Footnote 1: Collated with the original MS. in Swift's writing, and also with the copy transcribed by Stella.--_Forster_.]

[Footnote 2: Stella's copy has "the."--_Forster_.]

[Footnote 3: Diana.]

[Footnote 4: As originally written, this pa.s.sage ran: "Wherein she distinctly could read ev'ry line And found by the wit the Fancy was mine For none of his poems were ever yet shown Which he in his conscience could claim for his own."

_Forster_.]

NEWS FROM PARNa.s.sUS BY DR. DELANY

OCCASIONED BY "APOLLO TO THE DEAN" 1720

Parna.s.sus, February the twenty-seventh.

The poets a.s.sembled here on the eleventh, Convened by Apollo, who gave them to know He'd have a vicegerent in his empire below; But declared that no bard should this honour inherit, Till the rest had agreed he surpa.s.s'd them in merit: Now this, you'll allow, was a difficult case, For each bard believed he'd a right to the place; So, finding the a.s.sembly grow warm in debate, He put them in mind of his Phaethon's fate: 'Twas urged to no purpose; disputes higher rose, Scarce Phoebus himself could their quarrels compose; Till at length he determined that every bard Should (each in his turn) be patiently heard.

First, one who believed he excell'd in translation,[1]

Founds his claim on the doctrine of man's transmigration: "Since the soul of great Milton was given to me, I hope the convention will quickly agree."-- "Agree;" quoth Apollo: "from whence is this fool?

Is he just come from reading Pythagoras at school?

Begone, sir, you've got your subscriptions in time, And given in return neither reason nor rhyme."

To the next says the G.o.d, "Though now I won't chuse you, I'll tell you the reason for which I refuse you: Love's G.o.ddess has oft to her parents complain'd, Of my favouring a bard who her empire disdain'd; That at my instigation, a poem you writ, Which to beauty and youth preferr'd judgment and wit; That, to make you a Laureate, I gave the first voice, Inspiring the Britons t'approve of my choice.

Jove sent her to me, her power to try; The G.o.ddess of Beauty what G.o.d can deny?

She forbids your preferment; I grant her desire.

Appease the fair G.o.ddess: you then may rise higher."

The next[2] that appear'd had good hopes of succeeding, For he merited much for his wit and his breeding.

'Twas wise in the Britons no favour to show him, He else might expect they should pay what they owe him.

And therefore they prudently chose to discard The Patriot, whose merits they would not reward: The G.o.d, with a smile, bade his favourite advance, "You were sent by Astraea her envoy to France: You bend your ambition to rise in the state; I refuse you, because you could stoop to be great."

Then a bard who had been a successful translator,[3]

"The convention allows me a versificator."

Says Apollo, "You mention the least of your merit; By your works, it appears you have much of my spirit.

I esteem you so well, that, to tell you the truth, The greatest objection against you's your youth; Then be not concern'd you are now laid aside; If you live you shall certainly one day preside."

Another, low bending, Apollo thus greets, "'Twas I taught your subjects to walk through the streets."[4]

You taught them to walk! why, they knew it before; But give me the bard that can teach them to soar.

Whenever he claims, 'tis his right, I'll confess, Who lately attempted my style with success; Who writes like Apollo has most of his spirit, And therefore 'tis just I distinguish his merit: Who makes it appear, by all he has writ, His judgment alone can set bounds to his wit; Like Virgil correct, with his own native ease, But excels even Virgil in elegant praise: Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due Yet writes in a manner entirely new; Though none with more ease their depths can explore, Yet whatever he wants he takes from my store; Though I'm fond of his virtues, his pride I can see, In scorning to borrow from any but me: It is owing to this, that, like Cynthia,[5] his lays Enlighten the world by reflecting my rays.

This said, the whole audience soon found out his drift: The convention was summon'd in favour of SWIFT.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Trapp or Trap, ridiculed by Swift in "The Tatler," No.

66, as parson Dapper. He was sent to Ireland as chaplain to Sir Constantine Phipps, Lord Chancellor, in 1710-11. But in July, 1712, Swift writes to Stella, "I have made Trap chaplain to Lord Bolingbroke, and he is mighty happy and thankful for it." He translated the "Aeneid" into blank verse.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Prior, concerning whose "Journey to France," Swift wrote a "formal relation, all pure invention," which had a great sale, and was a "pure bite." See Journal to Stella, Sept., 1711.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: Pope, and his translations of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey."--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 4: Gay; alluding to his "Trivia."--_N_.]

[Footnote 5: Diana.]

APOLLO'S EDICT OCCASIONED BY "NEWS FROM PARNa.s.sUS"

Ireland is now our royal care, We lately fix'd our viceroy there.

How near was she to be undone, Till pious love inspired her son!

What cannot our vicegerent do, As poet and as patriot too?

Let his success our subjects sway, Our inspirations to obey, And follow where he leads the way: Then study to correct your taste; Nor beaten paths be longer traced.

No simile shall be begun, With rising or with setting sun; And let the secret head of Nile Be ever banish'd from your isle.