That mighty ebb never to flow again (When this huge body's moifture was fo great, That mountain, which was highest first of all, To blefs the primitive failor's weary fight! And nigh to Heaven as is its name : When Learning's little houfhold did embark At the firft ebb of noife and fears, Philofophy's exalted head appears; And the Dove-Mufe will now no longer stay, But plumes her filver wings, and flies away; To fhew the flood begins to cease, And brings the dear reward of victory and peace. II. The II. The eager Mufe took wing upon the waves' decline, And pluck'd a laurel branch (for laurel was the firft that grew, The firft of plants after the thunder, storm, and rain); And made an humble chaplet for the King *. And the Dove-Mufe is fled once more (Glad of the victory, yet frighten'd at the war); And now difcovers from afar A peaceful and a flourishing shore: No fooner did fhe land On the delightful strand, Then ftraight the fees the country all around, Where fatal Neptune rul'd erewhile, Scatter'd with flowery vales, with fruitful gardens crown'd, And many a pleasant wood! As if the univerfal Nile Had rather water'd it than drown'd: It feems fome floating piece of paradise, Preferv'd by wonder from the flood, Long wandering through the deep, as we are told * The Ode I writ to the King in Ireland. SWIFT.This cannot now be recovered. And And the transported Mufe imagin'd it Charming her greedy ears With many a heavenly fong Of nature and of art, of deep philofophy and love, III. Pardon, ye great unknown, and far-exalted men, (Yet curiofity, they fay, Is in her fex a crime needs no excufe) Has forc'd to grope her uncouth way After a mighty light that leads her wandering eye. And all we fools, who are the greater part of it, Yet wherefoe'er you look, you 'll always find * See Dr. Swift's very remarkable Letter to the Athe-nian Society, in the Supplement to his Works. In In me, who am of the firft fect of these, All merit, that tranfcends the humble rules And our good brethren of the furly fect Muft e'en all herd us with their kindred fools: For though, poffefs'd of prefent vogue, they 've made Railing a rule of wit, and obloquy a trade; Yet the fame want of brains produces each effect. But cenfure 's to be understood. Th' authentic mark of the elect, The public ftamp Heaven fets on all that's great and good, Our shallow fearch and judgemnent to direct. The war methinks has made Our wit and learning narrow as our trade; Of every cenfuring privateer; Forcing a wretched trade by beating down the fale, The wits, I mean the atheists of the age, Who fain would rule the pulpit as they do the ftage; Wondrous Wondrous refiners of philofophy, Of morals and divinity, By the new modish system of reducing all to sense, V. This hopeful fect, now it begins to fee To cenfure, to cry down, and rail, Of folving all appearances they please, We soon shall fee them to their ancient methods fall, And straight deny you to be men, or any thing at all. I laugh at the grave anfwer they will make, Which they have always ready, general, and cheap: 'Tis but to fay, that what we daily meet, And by a fond mistake Perhaps imagine to be wondrous wit, And think, alas! to be by mortals writ, Juftling fome thousand years till ripen'd by the fun; They 're now, juft now, as naturally born, VI. But |