The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume I Part 45

"Here learn from moral truth and wit refined, How vice and folly have debased mankind; Strong sense and humour arm in virtue's cause; Thus her great votary vindicates her laws: While bold and free the glowing colours strike; Blame not the picture, if the picture's like."

ON PSYCHE[1]

At two afternoon for our Psyche inquire, Her tea-kettle's on, and her smock at the fire: So loitering, so active; so busy, so idle; Which has she most need of, a spur or a bridle?

Thus a greyhound outruns the whole pack in a race, Yet would rather be hang'd than he'd leave a warm place.

She gives you such plenty, it puts you in pain; But ever with prudence takes care of the main.

To please you, she knows how to choose a nice bit; For her taste is almost as refined as her wit.

To oblige a good friend, she will trace every market, It would do your heart good, to see how she will cark it.

Yet beware of her arts; for, it plainly appears, She saves half her victuals, by feeding your ears.

[Footnote 1: Mrs. Sican, a very ingenious lady, mother to the author of the "Verses" with Pine's Horace; and a favourite with Swift and Stella.--_W. E. B._]

THE DEAN AND DUKE 1734

James Brydges[1]and the Dean had long been friends; James is beduked; of course their friends.h.i.+p ends: But sure the Dean deserves a sharp rebuke, For knowing James, to boast he knows the duke.

Yet, since just Heaven the duke's ambition mocks, Since all he got by fraud is lost by stocks,[2]

His wings are clipp'd: he tries no more in vain With bands of fiddlers to extend his train.

Since he no more can build, and plant, and revel, The duke and dean seem near upon a level.

O! wert thou not a duke, my good Duke Humphry, From bailiffs claws thou scarce couldst keep thy b.u.m free.

A duke to know a dean! go, smooth thy crown: Thy brother[3](far thy better) wore a gown.

Well, but a duke thou art; so please the king: O! would his majesty but add a string!

[Footnote 1: James Brydges, who was created Duke of Chandos in 1719, and built the magnificent house at Canons near Edgware, celebrated by Pope in his "Moral Essays," Epistles iii and iv. For a description of the building, see De Foe's "Tour through Great Britain," cited in Carruthers'

edition of Pope, vol. i, p. 482. At the sale of the house by the second Duke in 1747, Lord Chesterfield purchased the hall pillars for the house he was then building in May Fair, where they still adorn the entrance hall of Chesterfield House. He used to call them his _Canonical_ pillars.--_W. E. B_.]

[Footnote 2: In allusion to the Duke's difficulties caused by the failure of his speculative investments.--_W. E. B_.]

[Footnote 3: The Hon. Henry Brydges, Archdeacon of Rochester.--_N_.]

WRITTEN BY DR. SWIFT ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS, IN SEPTEMBER, 1734

Vertiginosus, inops, surdus, male gratus amicis; Non campana sonans, tonitru non ab Jove missum, Quod mage mirandum, saltem si credere fas est, Non clamosa meas mulier jam percut.i.t aures.

THE DEAN'S COMPLAINT, TRANSLATED AND ANSWERED

DOCTOR. Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone.

ANSWER. Except the first, the fault's your own.

DOCTOR. To all my friends a burden grown.

ANSWER. Because to few you will be shewn.

Give them good wine, and meat to stuff, You may have company enough.

DOCTOR. No more I hear my church's bell, Than if it rang out for my knell.

ANSWER. Then write and read, 'twill do as well.

DOCTOR. At thunder now no more I start, Than at the rumbling of a cart.

ANSWER. Think then of thunder when you f--t.

DOCTOR. Nay, what's incredible, alack!

No more I hear a woman's clack.

ANSWER. A woman's clack, if I have skill, Sounds somewhat like a throwster's mill; But louder than a bell, or thunder: That does, I own, increase my wonder.

THE DEAN'S MANNER OF LIVING

On rainy days alone I dine Upon a chick and pint of wine.

On rainy days I dine alone, And pick my chicken to the bone; But this my servants much enrages, No sc.r.a.ps remain to save board-wages.

In weather fine I nothing spend, But often spunge upon a friend; Yet, where he's not so rich as I, I pay my club, and so good b'ye.

EPIGRAM BY MR. BOWYER

"IN SYLLABAM LONGAM IN VOCE VERTIGINOSUS A. D. SWIFT CORREPTAM"

Musarum antistes, Phoebi numerosus alumnus, Vix omnes numeros Vertiginosus habet.

Intentat charo capiti vertigo ruinam: Oh! servet cerebro nata Minerva caput.

Vertigo nimium longa est, divina poeta; Dent tibi Pierides, donet Apollo, brevem.

VERSES MADE FOR FRUIT-WOMEN

APPLES

Come buy my fine wares, Plums, apples, and pears.

A hundred a penny, In conscience too many: Come, will you have any?

My children are seven, I wish them in Heaven; My husband a sot, With his pipe and his pot, Not a farthing will gain them, And I must maintain them.

ASPARAGUS