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But oh! with One, immortal One dispense;
The source of Newton's Light, of Bacon's Sense.
Content, each Emanation of his fires
That beams on earth, each Virtue he inspires,
Each Art he prompts, each Charm he can

Whate'er he gives, are given for you to hate.
Persist, by all divine in Man unawed, .
But ‘Learn, ye DUNCES ! not to scorn your

God'"1 Thus he, for then a ray of Reason stole 225 Half through the solid darkness of his soul; But soon the cloud returned—and thus the

Sire: “See now, what Dulness and her sons admire! See what the charms, that smite the simple

heart Not touched by Nature, and not reached by

Art." His never-blushing head he turned aside, (Not half so pleased when Goodman prophe

sied) ? And looked, and saw a sable Sorcerer rise, 1“Discite justitiam moniti, et non temnere divos.”

Virg.-P. 2 Mr. Cibber tells us, in his Life, p. 149, that Goodman being at the rehearsal of a play, in which he had a part, clapped him on the shoulder, and cried, “ If he does not make a good actor, I'll be d ---d. And (says Mr. Cibber) I make it a question whether Alexander himself, or Charles XII. of Sweden, when at the head of their first victorious armies, could feel a greater transport in their bosoms than I did in mine.”—P. W."

3 Dr. Faustus, the subject of a set of Farces, which lasted in vogue two or three seasons, in which both Playhouses strove to outdo each other for some years. All the extravagances in the sixteen lines following were introduced on the Stage, and frequented by



Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies :
All sudden, Gorgons hiss and Dragons glare, 23
And ten-horned fiends and Giants rush to wa
Hell rises, Heaven descends, and dance o

Earth : 1
Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, an

A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball,
Till one wide conflagration swallows all. 24
Thence a new world to Nature's laws un

Breaks out refulgent with a heaven its own:
Another Cynthia her new journey runs,
And other planets circle other suns.
The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, 24
Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in th

skies ; 3
And last, to give the whole creation grace,
Lo! one vast Egg produces human race.

Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought; What power,' he cries, “what power thes

wonders wrought?' “Son, what thou seek’st is in thee! Lool

and find Each monster meets his likeness in thy mind,

persons of the first quality in England, to the twe tieth and thirtieth time.-P.

1 This monstrous absurdity was actually repr sented in Tibbald's Rape of Proserpine.-P. 2“ — solemque suum, sua sidera norunt."

Virg. Æn. vi.-P. 3 “Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum.”

Hor.-P. 4 In another of these Farces Harlequin is hatch upon the stage out of a large Egg.-P. 5 “Quod petis in te est-

--Ne te quæsiveris extra.Pers.-P.

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Yet would'st thou more? In yonder cloud

behold, Whose sarsenet skirts are edged with flamy

gold, A matchless youth! his nod these worlds controls,

255 Wings the red lightning, and the thunder



Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round
Her magic charms o'er all unclassic ground : 2
Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure higher,
Illumes their light, and sets their flames on

fire. Immortal Rich ! : how calm he sits at ease 'Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; And proud his Mistress' orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

“But lo! to dark encounter in mid air 265 New wizards rise ; I see my Cibber there! Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrined.*

1 Like Salmoneus in Æn. vi. : “Dum flammas Jovis, et sonitus imitatur Olympi. -- nimbos, et non imitabile fulmen, Ære et cornipedum cursu simularat equorum.”—P.

2 Alludes to Mr. Addison's verse, in the praises of Italy:

“Poetic fields encompass me around,

And still I seem to tread on classic ground.” As ver. 264 is a parody on a noble one of the same author in The Campaign; and ver. 259, 260, on two sublime verses of Dr. Y.-P.

See Young's Epistle to Lord Lansdowne, verses 474, 475.

3 Mr. John Rich, Master of the Theatre Royal in Covent-garden, was the first that excelled in this way.-P.

4. Booth and Cibber were joint managers of the Theatre in Drury-lane.-P.


On grinning dragons thou shalt mount the

wind.? Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din, Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln'sinn;

270 Contending Theatres our empire raise, Alike their labours, and alike their praise. “And are these wonders, Son, to thee un

known ? Unknown to thee? These wonders are thy own.

These Fate reserved to grace thy reign divine,
Foreseen by me, but ah! withheld from mine.
In Lud's old walls though long I ruled, re-

Far as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound;
Though my own Aldermen conferred the bays,
To me committing their eternal praise, 280
Their full-fed Heroes, their pacific Mayors,
Their annual trophies, and their monthly wars :3
Though long my Party built on me their


1 In his Letter to Mr. P., Mr. C. solemnly declares this not to be literally true. We hope, therefore, the reader will understand it allegorically only.-P. W.

2 The Duke's Theatre, in Portugal-street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.

3 Annual trophies, on the Lord Mayor's day; and monthly wars in the Artillery-ground.-P.

* Settle, like most Party-writers, was very uncertain in his political principles. He was employed to hold the pen in the Character of a popish successor, but afterwards printed his Narrative on the other side. He had managed the ceremony of a famous Pope-burning on November 17, 1680, then became a trooper in King James's army, at Hounslow-heath. After the Revolution he kept a booth at Bartholomewfair, where, in the droll called St. George for England, he acted in his old age in a Dragon of green leather

For writing Pamphlets, and for roasting Popes; Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag on ! Reduced at last to hiss in my own dragon. 286 Avert it, Heaven! that thou, my Cibber, e'er Should'st wag a serpent-tail in Smithfield fair ! Like the vile straw that's blown about the

streets, The needy Poet sticks to all he meets, 290 Coached, carted, trod upon, now loose, now

fast, And carried off in some Dog's tail at last. Happier thy fortunes ! like a rolling stone, Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on, Safe in its heaviness, shall never stray, 295 But lick up every block head in the way. Thee shall the Patriot, thee the Courtier taste, And every year be daller than the last. Till raised from booths, to Theatre, to Court, Her seat imperial Dulness shall transport. 300 Already Opera prepares the way, The sure fore-runner of her gentle sway: Let her thy heart, next Drabs and Dice, engage, The third mad passion of thy doting age. Teach thou the warbling Polypheme to roar, 305

of his own invention; he was at last taken into the Charter-house, and there died, aged sixty years. —P.

Carruthers points out that Settle was born in 1648, and died in the Charter-house in 1724. He was therefore seventy-six at the time of his death.

? It stood in the first edition with blanks, * * and **. Concanen was sure “they must needs mean nobody but King GEORGE and Queen CAROLINE; and said he would insist it was so, till the poet cleared himself by filling up the blanks otherwise, agreeably to the context, and consistent with his allegiance.” — Pref. to a Collection of Verses, Essays, Letters, &c., against Mr. P., printed for A. Moor, p. 6..-P.

2 He translated the Italian Opera of Polifemo; but unfortunately lost the whole jest of the story. The

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