^^ » IP ) V: ) y ) y 3 )^ ■ i 1 1 '' '^V i-^ .--■••!?■ .RSITY of CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES ^iiiRARY SEVERALOCC WRITTEN BY Dr. THOMAS PARNELL, Late Archdeacon of CLOGHER: And publiftied by Mr. POPE. Dignum laude virtim mufa vetat mon WITH HOR. The life of ZOILUS: And Hir'REMARKS on homer's battle of the FROGS and MICE. A NEW EDITION. TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, The LIFE OF Dr. PARNELL, Written by Dr. G O L D S M I T H. DUBLIN: THOMAS EWING. M,DCC,LXXIII. • • • • •• « I c-^ A 17 THE / \ V IF E O F THOMAS PARNELL, D. D. 5\r THE life of a fcholar feldom abounds with adventure. His fame is acquired in folitude, and the hiftorian who only- views him at a diftance, muft be content with a dry detail of \i actions by which he is fcarce diftinguifhed from the reft of ^ mankind. But we are fond of talking of thofe who have given us pleafure ; not that we have any thing important to fay, but becaufe the fubje6t is pleafing. Thomas Parnell, D. D. was defcended from an ancient family, that had for fome centuries been fettled at Congleton ■^ in Chefhire. His father Thomas Parnell, who had been at- tached to the commonwealth party, upon the reftoration went over to Ireland ; thither he carried a large perfonal fortune, which he laid out in lands in that kingdom. The cftates he purchafed there, as alfo that of which he was polTeftld in ,1 THE LIFE OF Chelliirc, defcended to our poet, who was his eldeft fon, mid ftill remain in the family. Thus want, which has com- pelled many of our greateft men into the fervice of the Mufes, had no influence upon Parnell ; he was a poet by incli- nation. He was born in Dublin, in the year 1679, and received the firft rudiments of his education at the fchool of Dodtor Jones in that city. Surpriling things are told us of the grcat- nefs ol his memory at that early period, as of his being able to repeat by heart forty lines of any book at the firft reading ; of his getting the third book of the Iliad in one night's time, which was given in order to confine him for fome days. Thefe ftories which are told of almoft every cele- brated wit, perhaps may be true. But for my own part, I never found any of thofe prodigies of parts, although I have known enough that were defirous, among the ignorant, of beinor thought fo. There is one prefumption, however, of the early maturity ot his underftanding. He was admitted a member of the college of Dublin at the age of thirteen, which is much fooncr than ufual, as at that univerfity they are a great deal ftrider in their examination for entrance, than either at Ox- ford or Cambridge. His progrefs through the college courfe of ftudy was probably marked with but little fplcndour j his imagination might have been too warm to rclifh the cold Jogic of Burgerfdicius, or the dreary fubtlcties of Smiglefius ; THOMAS P A R N E L L. lii but it is certain, that as a clafTical fcholar, few could equal him. His own compofitions fliew this, and the deference which the moft eminent men of his time paid him upon that head, put it beyond a doubt. He took the degree of Mafter of Arts the ninth of July, 1700, and in the fame year, he was ordained a deacon by William, bifl:iop of Derry, having a difpenfation from the primate, as being under twenty- three years of age. He was admitted into pricft's orders about three years after, by William, archbifhop of Dublin, and on the ninth of February, 1705, he was collated by Sir George Afhe, bifhop of Clogher, to the archdeaconry of Clogher. About that time alfo he married Mifs Anne Minchin, a young lady of great merit and beauty, by whom he had two fons, who died young, and one daughter, who is fdU living. His wife died fome time before him, and her death is faid to have made fo great an impreilion on his fpirits, that it ferved to haften his own. On the thirty-lirft of May, 1716, he was prefented, by his friend and patron archbifhop King, to the vicarage of Finglas, a benefice worth about 400 pounds a year, in the diocefe of Dublin, but he lived to enjoy this pre- ferment a very fiiort time. He died at Chefter, in July, 1 71 8, on his way to Ireland, and was buried in Trinity church in that town, without any monument to mark the place of his interment. As he died without male ilTue, his eftate de- volved to his only nephew, Sir John Parnell, baronet, whofe father was younger brother to the archdeacon, and one of the juftices of the King's Bench in Ireland. W '1 II I-'. ], 1 !• L O ]. Such is the very unpoctical detail of the life of a poet. Some dates, and a few fadls fcarce more interefling than thofc that make the ornaments of a country tomb-ftone, are all that remain of one whofe labours now begin to excite uni- verfal ciiriofity. A poet, while living, is feldom an object fufficiently great to attrad: much attention ; his real merits are known but to a few, and thefe are generally fparing in their praifes. When his fame is increafed by time, it is then too late to inveftigate the peculiarities of his difpofition ; the dews of the morning are pafl, and we vainly try to continue the chace by the meridian fplendour. There is fcarce any man but might be made the fubjed: of a very interefting and amuUng hiftory, if the writer, befide a thorough acquaintance with the charad:er he draws, were able to mark thofe nice diftinftions which feparate it from all others. The ftrongeft minds have ufually the moft ftriking peculiarities, and would confequently afford the richefl; ma- terials : but in the prefent inftance, from not knowing Doc- tor Parnell, his peculiarities are gone to the grave with him, and we are obliged to take his character from fuch as knew but little of him ; or who, perhaps, could have given very little information if they had known more. Parnell, by what I have been able to colledt from my father and uncle, who knew him, was the moft capable man in the world to make the happinefs of thofe he converfcd with, and the leaft able to fecure his own. He wanted that T II O M AS PA R N L I, 1 v evcnncfs of difpohtioii which bears difappointmciit \\ ith phlccrm, and joy with indiiFerence. He was ever very much elated or depreiTed ; and his whole life fpent in agony or rapture. But the turbulence of thefe paflions only afFeded himfelf, and never thofe about him, he knew the ridicule of his own charadler, and very efFedually raifed the mirth of his companions, as well at liis vexations as at his triumphs. How much his company was defired, appears from the ex- tenlivenefs of his connexions, and the number of his friends. Even before he made any figure in the literary world, his friendfliip was fought by perfons of every rank and party. The wits at that time differed a good deal from thofe who are moft eminent for their underftanding at prefent. It would now be thought a very indifferent fign of a writer's good {en{c to difclaim his private friends for happening to be of a differ- ent party in politics ; but it was then otherwife ; the Whig wits held the Tory wits in great contempt, and thefe reta- liated in their turn. At the head of one party were Addifon, Steele, and Congreve ; at that of the other, Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot. Parnell was a friend to both fides, and with a liberality becoming a fcholar, fcorned all thofe trifling dif- tincftions, that are noify for the time, and ridiculous to pof- terity. Nor did he emancipate himfelf from thefe without fome oppofition from home. Having been the fon of a com- monwealth's man, his Tory connexions on this fide of the water, gave his friends in Ireland great offence ; they were much enraged to fee him keep company with Popc^ and VI HE L I F i. O !• Swift, and Gay ; they blamed his iindiftinguirhing tafte, and wondered what plcafure he could find in the converfation of men who approved the Treaty of Utrecht and diHiked the duke of Marlborough. His converfation is faid to have been extremely pleaiing, but in what its peculiar excellence confifted is now unknown. The letters which were written to him by his friends, are all full of compliments upon his talents as a companion, and his eood nature as a- man. I have feveral of them now before me. Pope was particularly fond of his company, and feems to regret his abfence more than any of the reft. A letter from him follows thus : DEAR SIR, London, Ju-ly 29. * I W I S H it were not as ungenerous as vain to complain * too much of a man that forgets me, but I could expoftulate ' with you a whole day upon your inhuman filence ; I call it * inhuman; nor would you think it lefs, if you were truly * fenfible of the uneafinefs it gives mc. Did I know you fo * ill as to think you proud, I would be much lefs concerned ' than I am able to be, when I know one of the beft-naturcd * men alive negledls me ; and if you know me fo ill as to * think amifs of me, with regard to my frienddiip for you,. * you really do not deferve half the trouble you occafion me. * I need not tell you, that both Mr. Gay and myfelf have * written feveral letters in vain ; that we are conftantly THOMAS P A R N E L L. VII enquiring of all who have feen Ireland, if they faw you, and that, forgotten as we are, we arc every day remembering you in our mofl: agreeable hours. All this is true, as that we are fincerely lovers of you, and deplorers of your abfence, and that we form no wifh more ardently than that which brings you over, to us, and places you in your old feat between us. We have lately had fome diftant hopes of the Dean's defign to revifit England ; will not you accompany him ? or is England to lofe every thing that has any charms for us, and mufl: we pray for banifbment as a benedidlion. — I have once been witncfs of fome, I hope all of your fplene- tic hours, come and be a comforter in your turn to me, in mine. I am in fuch an unfettled ftate, that I can't tell if I fhall ever fee you, unlefs it be this year ; whether I do or not, be ever afllired, you have as large a fhare of my thoughts and good wifhes as any man, and as great a portion of gratitude in my heart as would enrich a monarch, could he know where to lin^ it. I fliall not die without teflifying fomething of this nature, and leaving to the world a memo- rial of the friendfhip that has been fo great a pleafurc and pride to me. It would be like writing my own epitaph, to acquaint you what I have loft fince I faw you, what I have done, what I have thought, where I have lived, and where I now repofe in obfcurity. My friend Jervas, the bearer of this, will inform you of all particulars concerning me, and Mr. Ford is charged with a thoufand loves, and a thoufand complaints, and a thoufand commiffions to you on my part. They will both tax you with the negledl of fome c VJll HE LIFE O * promifcs which were too agreeable to us all to be forgot ; if * you care for any of us tell them fo, and write fo to me. I * can fay no more, but that I love you, and am in fpite of ' the longeft negledl or abfence, Dear Sir, Your moft faithful affectionate friend And fervant, A. POPE. ' Gay is in Devonfhire, and from thence goes to Bath ; * my father and mother never fail to commemorate you.' Amon2 the number of his moft: intimate friends was Lord Oxford, whom Pope has fo finely complimented upon the delicacy of his choice. For him, thou oft haft bid the world attend. Fond to forget the ftatefman in the friend ; For Swift and him, defpis'd the farce of ft:ate, The fober follies of the wife and great ; Dextrous, the craving, fawning croud to quit. And pleas'd to fcape from flattery to wit. Pope himfelf was not only exceflively fond of his company, but under feveral literary obligations to him for his afliftance THOMAS PAR NELL IX in the tranflation of Homer. Gay was obliged to him upon another account ; for being always poor, he was not above receiving from Parncll the copy-money which the latter got for his writings. Several ol their letters, now before me, are proofs of this, and as they have never appeared before, it is probable the reader will be much better pleafed with their idle efFuftons, than with any thing I can hammer out for his amufement. BiNFIELD, NEAR OaKINCHAM, TuESDAY. D E A R S 1 R, M BELIEVE the hurry you were in hindred your giving * me a word by the laft poll:, fo that I am yet to learn whe- * ther you got well to town or continue fo there ? I very much ' fear both for your health and your quiet ; and no man liv- * ing can be more truly concerned in any thing that touches * cither than myfelf. I would comfort myfelf, however, * with hoping that your bufinefs may not be unfuccefsful, for * your fake ; and that, at Icaft, it may foon be put into * other proper hands. For my own, I beg earneflly of vou * to return to us as foon as poflible. You know how very ' much I want you, and that however your bufinefs may de- ' pend upon any other, my bufinefs depends entirely upon ' you, and yet flill I hope you will find your man, even ' though I lofe you the mean while. At this time the more ' I love you the more I can fpare you ; which alone will, I T 11' E L IFF. O F dare fay, be a rcafon to you to let me have you back the fooncr. The minute I loft you, Euftathius with nine hun- dred pages, and nine thoufand contradions of the Greek character, arofe to my view ! Spendanus, with all his aux- iliaries, in number a thoufind pages, value three (liillings, and Dacier's three volumes, Barne's two, Valterie's three, Cuperus, half in Greek, Leo Allatius, three parts in Greek ; Scaliger, Macrobius, and, worfe than them all, Aulus Gellius ! All thefe rufhed upon my foul at once, and whelm- ed me under a fit of the head-ach. I curfcd them all re- ligioufly, damn'd my beft friends among the reft, and even blafphcmed Homer himfelf. Dear Sir, not only as you are a friend, and a good-natured man ; but as you are a chriftian and a divine, come back fpeedily, and prevent the increafe ot my fins ; for at the rate I have begun to rave, I ftiall not only damn all the poets and commentators who have gone before me, but be damn'd myfelf by all wlio come after me. To be ferious, you have not only left me to the laft degree impatient for your return, wJio at all times fliould have been fo ; tho' never fo much as fince I knew you in beft health here, but you have wrought feveral mira- cles upon our family ; you have made old people fond of a young and gay pcrfon, and inveterate papifts of a clergy- man of the church of England ; even nurfe herfelf is in danger of being in love in her old age, and, for all I know, would even marry Dennis tor your lake, be- caufe he is your man, and loves his mafter. In fhort, come down forthwith, or give me good reafons for delaying, THOMAS P A R N E L L. XI * though but for a day or two, by the next poft. If I find * them juft, I will come up to you, though you know how * precious my time is at prefent ; my hours were never worth * {o much money before ; but perhaps you are not fenfible of * this, who give away your own works. You are a generous * author, I a hackney fcribbler ; you are a Grecian, and * bred at an univerfity ; I a poor Englishman, of my own ' educating ; you are a reverend parfon, I a wag ; in fhort, ' you are Dr. Parnelle, with an E at the end of your name, *and I * Your moft obliged and * AfFe6tionate friend and * Faithful fervant, 'A. POPE. * My hearty fervice to the Dean, Dr. Arbuthnot, Mr. * Ford, and the true genuine fhepherd, J. Gay of Devon, I ' expert him down with you.' We may eafily perceive by this, that Parnell was not a lit- tle neceffary to Pope in conducing his tranflation ; however he has worded it fo ambiguoufly, that it is impoflible to bring the charge diredlly againft him. But he is much more expli- cit, when he mentions his friend Gay's obligations in another letter, which he takes no pains to conceal. d xi'. THE L I F F. DEAR SIR, I WRITE to you with the fame warmth, the fame zeal of good will and friendfhip with which I iifcd to convcrfc with you two years ago, and can't think myfclf abfcnt, when I feci you fo much at my heart ; the pidurc of you, which Jervas brought me over, is infinitely lefs lively a reprefcnta- tion, than that I carry about with me, and which rifes to my mind whenever I think of you. I have many an agreeable reverie, through thofe woods and downs, where we once rambled together ; my head is fometimes at the Bath, and fometimes at Letcomb, where the Dean makes a great part of my imaginary entertainment, this being the cheapeft way of treating me ; I hope he will not be difpleafed at this manner ol paying my fefpedls to him, inftcad of following my friend Jervas 's example, which to fiy the truth, I have as much inclination to do as I want ability. I have been ever fince December lafl: in greater variety of bufinefs than any fuch men as you, that is^ divines and philofophers, can pof- fibly imagine a reafonable creature capable of. Gay's play, among the reft, has coft much time and long fuffering, to ftem a tide of malice and part)', that certain authors have raifed againft it ; the beft revenge upon fuch fellows, is now in my hands, I mean your Zoilus, which really tranfccnds the exped:ation I had conceived of it. I have put it into the prefs, beginning with the poem Batrachom : for you feem by the firft paragraph of the dedication to it, to dcfign THOMAS P A R N E L L. xJii to prefix the name of fome particular perfon. I beg there- fore to know for whom you intend it, that the publication may not be delayed on this account, and this as foon as is poilible. Inform me alfo upon what terms I am to deal with the bookfeller, and whether you dcfign the copy- money for Gav, as you formerly talk'd, what number of books you would have yourfelf, Sec. I fcarce fee any thing to be altered in this whole piece ; in the poems, you fent I will take the liberty you allow me ; the ftory of Pandora, and the Eclogue upon Health, are two of the moft beautiful things I ever read. I don't fay this to the prejudice of the reft, but as I have read thefe oftner. Let me know how far my commifTion is to extend, and be confident of my punctual performance of \^ hatever you enjoin. I muft add a para- graph on this occafion, in regard to Mr. Ward, whofe verfes have been a great pleafure to me ; I will contrive they fhall be fo to the world, whenever I can find a proper opportuni- ty of publifhing them. ^ ' I fhall very foon print an entire coliedlion of my own ma- drigals, which I look upon as making my laft will and tefta- ment ; fince in it I fhall give all I ever intend to give, which ril beg yours and the Dean's acceptance of, you mufi: look * on me no more a poet, but a plain commoner, who lives ' upon his own, and fears and flatters no man. I hope bc- ' fore I die to difcharge the debt I owe to Homer, and get * upon the whole juft fame enough to ferve for an annuity for * my own time, though I leave nothing to poflerity. XIV HE LIFE O *■ I beg our correfpondcncc may be more frequent than it * has been of late. I am fure my eftcem and love for you ne- * ver more defcrved it from you, or more prompted it from * you. I delired our friend Jervas, in the greateft hurry of * my bufinefs, to fay a great deal in my name, both to yourfelf * and the Dean, and muft once more repeat the aflurances to * you both, of an unchanging friendfhip and unalterable ■* cfteem. I am, dear Sir, moll entirely * Your affectionate, * Faithful, obliged friend and fervant, ' A. P O P E.' From thefe letters to Parnell, we may conclude, as far as their teftimony can go, that he was an agreeable, a generous, and a fmcere man. Indeed he took care that his friends fhould always fee him to the beft advantage ; for when he found his fits of fpleen and uneafinefs, which fometimes lafted for weeks together, returning, he returned with all expedition to the remote parts of Ireland, and there made out a gloomy kind of fatisfadion, in giving hideous defcriptions of the folitude to which he retired. It is faid of a famous painter, that be- ing confined in prifon for debt, his whole delight confifted in drawing the faces of his creditors in caricatura. It was juft fo with Parnell. From many of his unpublifhed pieces THOMAS P A R N E L L. XV which I have feen, and from others that have appeared, it would feem, that fcarce a bog in his neighbourhood, was left without reproach, and fcarce a mountain reared its head unfung. * I can ealily,' fays Pope, in one of his letters, in anfwer to a dreary defcription of Parneirs. * I can cafily ' image to my thoughts the folitary hours of your eremitical ' life in the mountains, from fomething parallel to it in my ' own retirement at Binfield ;' and in another place ; ' We ' are both miferably enough fituated, God knows ; but of ' the two evils, I think the folitudcs of the South are to be * preferred to the defarts of the Weft:.' In this manner Pope anfwercd him in the tone of his own complaints ; and thefe defcriptions of the imagined diftreffes of his {ituation, ferved to give him a temporary relief : they threw off the blame from himfelf, and laid upon fortune and accident, a wretch- ednefs of his own creating. But though this method o{ quarrelling in his poems with his iituation ferved to relieve himfelf, yet it was not fo eafily endured by the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, who did not care to confefs themfelves his fellow fufferers. He receiv- ed many mortihcations upon that account among them ; for being naturally fond of company, he could not endure to be without even theirs, which however, among his Englifh friends, he pretended to defpife. In fad:, his conduct, in this particular, was rather fplendid than wife ; he had either loft the art to engage, or did not employ his fkill, in fecuring thofe more permanent, tho' more humble connexions, and. e XVl HE LI facrificcd for a month or two in England a whole year's happincTs by his country firc-fide at home. However, what he permitted the world to fee of his life was elegant and fplendid ; his fortune, for a poet, was very confiderable, and it may eafily be fuppofed he lived to the very extent of it. The faft is, his expences were greater than his income, and his fucceflbr found the eftate fomcwhat im- paired at his deceafe. As foon as ever he had collected in his annual revenues, he immediately fet out for England, to en- joy the company of his deareft friends, and laugh at the more prudent world that were minding bufinefs and gaining mo- ney. The friends, to whom, during the latter part of his life, he was chiefly attached, were Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, Jervas, and Gay. Among thefe he was particularly happy, his mind was entirely at eafe, and gave a loofe to every harm- lefs tolly that came uppermoft. Indeed it was a fociety, in which of all others, a wife man might be mofl; fooliili with- out incurring any danger of contempt. Perhaps the reader will be pleafed to fee a letter to him from a part of this junto, as there is fomething ftriking even in the levities of crcnius. It comes from Gay, Jervas, Arbuthnot, and Pope, afl'embled at a chop-houfe near the Exchange, and is as follows : THOMAS P A R N E I. L. xvii MY DEAR SIR, I W A S laft fummer in Devonfliire, and am this winter at Mrs. Bonyer's. In the fummer I wrote a poem, and in the winter I have published it ; which I have fent to you by Dr. Elwood. In the fummer I ate two difhcs of toad-ftools of my own gathering, inftead of mufhrooms ; and in the winter I have been fick with wine, as I am at this time, blef- fed be God for it, as I muft blefs God for all things. In the fummer I fpoke truth to damfels ; in the winter I told lies to ladies : Now you know where I have been, and what I have done. I fhall tell you what I intend to do the eniuing fummer ; I propofe to do the fame thing I did laft, which was to meet you in any part of England, you would appoint ; don't let me have two difappointments. I have longed to hear from you, and to that intent teazed you with three or four letters, but having no anfwer, 1 feared both yours and my letters might have mifcarried. I hope my performance will plcafe the Dean, whom I often wifli for, and to whom I v/ould have often wrote ; but for the fame reafons I neglcdled writing to you. I hope I need not tell you how I love you, and how glad I fhall be to hear from you ; which, next to feeing you, would be the great- eft fatisfattion to ' Your moft affedlionate friend and ' Humble fervant, ' J. G.' XVI11 HE LIFE O DEAR Mr. ARCHDEACON, THOUGH my proportion of this epiflle fliould be but a fkctch in miniature, yet I take up half this page, having paid my club with the good company both for our dinner of chops and for this paper. The potts will give you live- ly defcriptions in their way ; I fhall only acquaint you with that, which is diredtly my province. I have juft fet the laft hand to a couplet, for fo I may call two nymphs in one piece. They are Pope's favourites, and though few, you will guefs muft have coft me more pains than any nymphs can be worth. He has been fo unreafonable to expedl that I fhould have made them as beautiful upon canvas as he has done upon paper. If this fame Mr. P — fhould omit to write for the dear Frogs, and the Pervigilium, I muft in- treat you not to let me langui(li for them, as I have done ever fince they crofs'd the feas ; Remember by what ne- gleds, &c. we mifs'd them when we loft you, and there- fore I have not yet forgiven any of thofe triflers that let them efcape and run thofe hazards. I am going on at the old rate, and want you and the Dean prodigioufty, and am iiT hopes of making you a vilit this fummer, and of hearing from you both now you are together. Fortefcue, I am fure, will be concerned that he is not in. Cornhill, to fet his hand to thefe prefents, not only as a witnefs but as a ' Serviteur tres humble * C. J E R V A S. T II O M A S P A R N E L L. XIX * It is fo great an honour to a poor Scotchman to be re- * membered at this time a day, efpecially by an inhabitant of * the Glacialis lernc, that I take it very thankfully, and have, * with my good friends, remembered you at our table in the * chop-houfc in Exchange-Alley. There wanted nothing to * complcat our happincfs but your company and our dear * friend the Dean's. I am fure the whole entertainment * would have been to his relifli. Gay has got fo much money ' by his art of walking the ftreets, that he is ready to fet up * his equipage ; he is juft going to the Bank to negociate * fome exchange bills. Mr. Pope delays his fecond volume * of his Homer till the martial fpirit of the rebels is quite * quelled, it being judged that the firll: part did fome harm * that way. Our love again and again to the dear Dean, * fuimus Torysj I can fay no more. * A R B U T H N O T.' * When a man is confcious that he does no good himfclf, * the next thing is to caufe others to do fome. I may claim * fome merit this way, in haftening this teftimonial from your ' friends above-writing : their love to you indeed wants no * fpur, their ink wants no pen, their pen wants no hand, * their hand wants no heart, and fo forth, after the manner ' of Rabelais ; which is betwixt fome meaning and no mean- * ing J and yet it may be faid, when prefent thought and op- * portunity is wanting, their pens want ink, their hands want * pens, their hearts want hands, &c. till time, place and f XX HE LIFE O ' convcniency concur to fct them a writing, as at prefent, a * fociable meeting, a good dinner, warm fire, and an eafy ' iituation do, to the joint labour and pleafure of this epiflle. * Wherein if I fhould fay nothing I fhould fay much, much *■ being included in my love, though my love be fuch, that if ' I fhould fay much, I fhould yet fay nothing, it being, as * Cowley fays, equally impoflible either to conceal or to ex- ' prefs it. * If I were to tell you the thing I willi above all things, it is ' to fee you again ; the next is to fee here your treatife of * Zoilus, with the Batrachomuomachia, and the Pervigilium ' Veneris, both which poems are maflerpieces in feveral kinds ; ' and I queflion not the profe is as excellent in its fort, as *■ the EfTay on Homer. Nothing can be more glorious to ' that great author, than that the fame hand that raifed his ' beft ftatue, and decked it with its old laurels, fhould alfo ' hang up the fcare-crow of his miferable critick, and gibbet ' up the carcafe of Zoilus, to the terror of the witlings of * pofterity. More, and much more, upon this and a thou- ' land other fubjeds, will be the matter of my next letter, ' wherein I muft open all the friend to you. At this time I ' muft be content with telling you, I am faithfully your moft ' affedionate and * Humble fervant, A. POPE. THOMAS P A. R N E L L. XXI If we regard this letter with a critical eye, we ihiall find it indifferent enough; if we confider it as mere cffufion of friend- fhip, in which every writer contended in affe6lion, it will ap- pear much to the honour of thofe who wrote it. To be mindful of an abfent friend in the hours of mirth and feafting, when his company is leaft wanted, fhews no flight degree of fincerity. Yet probably there was ftill another motive for writing thus to him in conjunftion. The above-named, to- gether with Swift and Parnell, had fometime before formed themfelves into a fociety called the Scriblcrus Club, and I fhould fuppofe they commemorated him thus, as being an. abfent member. It is paft a doubt that they wrote many things in conjuncH:!- on, Gay ufually held the pen. And yet I don't remember any productions which were the joint effort of this fociety as doing it honour. There is fomething feeble and queint in all their attempts, as if company, repreffed thought, and genius wanted folitude for its boldefl: and happieft exertions. Of thofe productions in which Parnell had a principal fhare, that of the origin of the fciences from the monkies in Ethiopia, is particularly mentioned by Pope himfelf, in fome manufcript anecdotes which he left behind him. The life of Homer alfo prefixed to the tranflation of the Iliad, is written by Par- nell and corrected by Pope ; and as that great poet affures us in the fame place, this correction was not effeCted without great labour. It is ftill ftiff, fays he, and was written ftill differ ; as it is, I verily think, it cofl mc more pains in the. :XX» T HE LI 'corrcding than the writing it would have done. All this may he eaiily credited ; lor every thing of Parnell's that has appear- ed in profe is written in a very aukvvard inelegant manner. It is true, his produdlions teem with imagination, and fhew great learning, but they want that cafe and fwtetnefs for which his poetry is fo much admired, and the language is alfo moft fhamefully incorred. Yet, tho' all this mufl: be allowed. Pope fhould have taken care not to leave his errors upon record againfl: him, or put it in the power of envy to tax his friend with faults that do not appear in what he has left to the world. A poet has a right to expe6l the fame fe- crecy in his friend as in his confeffor ; the iins he difcovers are not divulged for punifliment but pardon. Indeed Pope is almoft inexcufable in this inftance, as what he feems to con- demn in one place he very much applauds in another. In one of the letters from him to Parnell, abovementioned, he treats the life of Homer with much greater refpecl, and feems to fay, that the profe is excellent in its kind. It mufl be confefTed however, that he is by no means inconiiftent ; what he fays in both places may very eafiily be reconciled to truth, but who can defend his candour and his fincerity ? It would be liard however to fuppofe that there was no real friendfhip between thefe great men. The bene\olence of Parnell's difpolition remains unimpeached ; and Pope, tho' fubjedl to ftarts of paflion and envy, yet never miffed an op- portunity of being truly ferviceable to him. The commerce .between them was carried on to tlie common intereft of both. THOMAS P A R N E L L xxiu When Pope had a mifcellany to piiblilh, he applied to ParncU for poetical afliftancc, and the latter as implicitly fubmittcd to him for correction. Thus they mutually advanced each other's intcreft or fame, and grew ftronger by conjundlion. Nor was, Pope the only perfon to whom Parnell had rccourfe for afiiftance. Vv^e learn from Swift's letters to Stella, that he fubmitted his pieces to ail his friends, and readily adopted their alterations. Swilt among the number was very ufeful to him in that particular ; and care has been taken that the vvoilJ fhould not remain ignorant of the obligation. But in the connexion of wits, interefi: has generally very little fhare ; they have only pleafure in view, and can feldom find it but among each other. The Scriblerus club, when the members were in town, were feldom afunder, and they often made excurfions together into the country, and generally on foot. Swift was ufually the butt of the company, and if a trick was played, he was always the fufferer. The whole par- ty once agreed to walk down to the houfe of Lord B , who is ftill living, and whofe feat is about twelve miles from town. As every one agreed to make the befi: of his way. Swift, who was remarkable for walking, loon left all the reft behind him, fully refolved upon his arrival, to chufe the very beft bed for himfelf, for that was his cuftom. In the mean time Parnell was determined to prev.ent his intentions, and taking horfe, arrived at Lord B s, by another way, long before him. Having apprized his lordfhip ot Swift's defign, it was refolved at any rate to keep him out of the houfe, but how g XXIV HE LIFE O to cffcdl this was the queftion. Swilt never had the fmall- pox, and was very much afraid of catching it : as foon there- tore as he aj)pearcd ftriding along at fome diftance from the houfe, one of his lordfhip's fervants was difpatched, to inform him, that the fmall-pox was then making great ravages in the family, but that there was a fummer-houfe with a field- bed at his fervice at the end of the garden. There the difap- pointed Dean was obliged to retire, and take a cold fupper that was fent out to him, while the reft were feafting within. However, at laft, they took compafTion on him ; and upon his promiflng never to chufe the beft bed again, they permit- ted him to make one of the company. There is fomething fatisfaftory in thefe accounts of the fol- lies of the wife, they give a natural air to the pifturc, and reconcile us to our own. There have been few poetical focie- ties, more talked of, or productive of a greater variety of whimfical conceits than this of the Scriblerus club, but how Jong it lafted I cannot exadlly determine. The whole of Parnell's poetical exiftence was not of more than eight or ten years continuance ; his firft excurfions to England began about the year 1706, and he died in the year 171 8, fo that it is probable the club began with him, and his death ended the connexion. Indeed the feftivity of his converfation, the benevolence of his heart, and the generofity of his temper, were qualities that might ferve to cement any fociety, and that could hardly be replaced when he was taken away. During the two or three laft years of his life, he was more fond of THOMAS P A R N E L L. xxv company than ever, and could fcarcc bear to be alone. The death of his wife, it is faid, was a lofs to him that he was un- able to fupport or recover. From that time he could never venture to court the mufe in folitude, where he was fure to find the image of her who firft infpired his attempts. He began therefore to throw himfelf into every company, and to feek from wine, if not relief, at leaft infenfibility, Thofe helps that forrow firft called in for afiiftance, habit foon ren- dered neceffary, and he died before his fortieth year, in fome meafure a martyr to conjugal fidelity. Thus in the fpace of a very few years Parnell attained a fhare of fame, equal to what moft oi his cotemporaries were a long life in acquiring. He is only to be confidered as a poet, and the univerfal efteem in which his poems are held, and the reiterated pleafure they give in the perufal, are a fuf- ficient teft of their merit. He appears to me to be the laft ol: that great fchool that had modelled itfclf upon the anci- ents, and taught Englifh poetry to refemble what the generali- ty of mankind have allowed to excel. A ftudious and correct obferver of antiquity, he fet himfelf to confider nature with the lights it lent him, and he found that the more aid he bor- rowed from the one, the more delightfully he refembled the other. To-copy nature is a tafk the moft bungling workman is able to execute ; to feled fuch parts as contribute to delight, is referved only for thofe whom accident has bleft with un- common talents, or fuch as have read the ancients with inde- fatigable induftry. Parnell is ever happy in the feledtion of xxvi THE LIFE OF his images, and fcriipuloufly careful in the choice of his fub- jcdls. His produ6lions bear no rcfcmblancc to thofc tawdry thinn:s, which it has for fomc time been the fafhion to ad- mire ; in writing which the poet fits down without any plan, and heaps up fplendid images without any fclecflion ; where the reader grows dizzy with praife and admiration, and yet foon grows weary, he can fcarce tell why. Our poet, on the contrary, gives out his beauties with a more ipar- ing hand ; he is ftill carrying his reader forward, and juft gives him refrefhment fufficient to fupport him to his jour- ney's end. At the end of his courfe the reader regrets that his way has been fo iliort, he wonders that it gave him fo lit- tle trouble, and fo refolves to go the journey over again. His poetical language is not lefs corred: than his fubjefts are pleafing. He found it at that period, in which it was brought to its higheft pitch of refinement ; and ever fince his time it has been gradually dcbafing. It is indeed amazing, after what has been done by Dryden, Addifon, and Pope, to improve and harmonize our native tongue, that their fuccef- fors fhould have taken fo much pains to involve it in priftine barbarity. Thefe mifguided innovators have not been con- tent with reftoring antiquated words and phrafes, but have indulged themfelvcs in the mofi: licentious tranfpofitions, and the harflieft conftrudions, vainly imagining, that the more their waitings are unlike profe, the more they refcmble poe- try. They have adopted a language of their own, and call upon mankind for admiration. All thofe who do not THOMAS P A R N E L L. XXVll underftand them are iilent, and thofc who make out their meaning, are willing to praifc, to fhcvv they undcrftand. From thefe follies and affectations, the poems of Parnell are entirely free ; he has confidered the language of poetry as the language of lite, and conveys the warmeft thoughts in the fimpleft exprcffion. Parnell has written fevcral poems befides thefe publifhed by Pope, and fome of them have been made public with very little credit to his reputation. There are lliil many more that have not yet feen the light, in the pofleifion of Sir John Parnell his nephew, who from that laudable zeal which he has for his uncle's reputation, will probably be flow in pub- lifhing what he may even fufpecSt will do it injury. Of thofe in the following coUedion, fome are indifferent, and fome moderately good, but the greater part are excellent. A flight ftridure on the moft ftriking, (hall conclude this account, which I have already drawn out to a difproportioned length. Hefiod, or the Rife of Woman, is a very fine illuftration of an hint from Hefiod. It was one of his earlieft produc- tions, and firft appeared in a mifcellany, publifhed by Tonfon. Of the three fongs that follow, two of them were written upon fhe lady he afterwards married ; they were the genuine didates of his paiTion; but are not excellent in their kind. xxviii HE LIFE OF The Anacreontic beginning with ' When fpiings came on with frefh delight,' is taken from a French poet, whofe name I forget, and as far as I am able to judge of the French lan- guage, is better than the original. The Anacreontic that follows. Gay Bacchus, &c. is alfo a tranflation of a Latin poem, by Aurelius Augurellus, an Italian poet, beginning with Invitat olim Bacchus ad caenam fuos Comum, Jocum, Cupidinem. Parnell, when he tranflated it, applied the characters to fome of his friends, and as it was written for their entertain- ment, it probably gave them more pleafure than it has given the public in the perufal. It feems to have more fpirit than the original ; but it is extraordinary that it was publiflied as an original and not as a tranflation. Pope fhould have ac- knowledged it, as he knew. The Fairy Tale is inconteftably one of the fineft pieces in any language. The old dialed: is not perleftly well pre- ferved, but that is a very flight defe6l where all the reft is fo excellent. The Pervigilium Veneris, which, by the bye, docs not belong to Catullus, is very well verfified, and in general all Parnell's tranftations are excellent. The Battle of the Frogs and Mice, which follows, is done as well as the fubjedl THOMAS PARNELL. XXIX would admit ; but there is a defcd: in the tranilation, which links it below the original, and which it was impoflible to remedy. I mean the names of the combatants, which in the Greek bear a ridiculous allufion to their natures, have no force to the Englifh reader. A Bacon Eater was a good name for a moufe, and Pternotradlas in Greek, was a very good founding word, that conveyed that meaning. Puff- cheek would found odioufly as a name for a frog, and yet Phyfignathos does admirably well in the original. The letter to Mr. Pope is one of the fineft compliments that ever was paid to any poet ; the defcription of his litua- tion at the end of it is very fine, but far from being true. That part of it where he deplores his being far from wit and learning, as being far from Pope, gave particular offence to his friends at home. Mr. Coote, a gentleman in his neigh- bourhood, who thought that he himfelf had wit, was very much difpleafed with ParnelJ for cafting his eyes fo far off for a learned friend, when he could fo conveniently be fup- plied at home. The tranflation of a part of the Rape of the Lock into monkifh verfe, ferves to fhew what a mafter Parnell was of the Latin y a copy of verfes made in this manner, is one of the moft difficult trifles that can poffibly be imagined. I am affured that it was written upon the following occafion. Be- fore the Rape of the Lock was yet completed. Pope was reading it to his friend Swift, who fat very attentively, while XXX HE LIFE O Piirnell, who happened to be in the hoiife, went in and out without fccming to take any notice. However he was very diligently employed in liftening, ar.d was able, from the llrcngth of his memory, to bring away the whole dcfcripti- on of the toilet pretty exadly. This he verfified in the man- ner now publiilied in his works, and the next day when Pope was reading his poem to fome friends, Parnell infilled that he had ftolen that part of the defcription from an old monkifli manufcript. An old paper with the Latin verfes was foon brought forth, and it was not till after fome time that Pope was delivered from the conlufion which it at firft produced. The Book-Worm is another unacknowledged translation from a Latin poem by Beza. It was the fafliion with the wits of the laft age, to conceal the places from whence they took their hints or their fubjecls. A trifling acknowledgment would have made that lawful prize, which may now be con- Iidered as plunder. The Night Piece on Death, defervcs every praife, and I lliould fuppofe with very little amendment, might be made to furpafs all thofe night pieces and church yard fcenes that have fince appeared. But the poem of ParnelFs beft known, and on which his beft reputation is grounded, is the Hermit. Pope, fpeaking of this, in thofe manufcript anecdotes alrea- dy quoted, fays, that the poem is very good. The ftory, continues he, was written originally in Spanifh, whence THOMAS PAR NELL. XXXI probably Howell had tranflated it into profe, and inferted it in one of his letters. Addifon liked the fcheme, and was not dilinclined to come into it. However this may be, Dr. Henry More, in his Dialogues, has the very fame ftory ; and I have been informed by fome, that it is originally of Arabian invention. With refpecl to the profe works of Parnell, I have menti- oned them already ; his fame is too well grounded for any defedls in them to fhake it. i will only add, that the Life of Zoilus, was written at the requefl of his friends, and de- figned as a fatire upon Dennis and Theobald, with \\^hom his club had long been at variance. I fhall end this acco-nt with a letter to him from Pope and Gay, in which they enu;,avour. to haflen him to finifli that produdlion. London, March i8. DEAR SIR, * I MUST own I have long owed you a letter, but you. * mufi: own you have owed me one a good deal longer. Be- * fides I have but two people in the whole kingdom of Ireland. * to take care of ; the Dean and you : but you have fcveral ' who complain of your ncgledl in England. Mr. Gay ' complains, Mr. Harcourt complains, Mr. Jarvas complains, ' Dr. Arbuthnot complains, my Lord complains ; I complain. ^ Take notice of this figure of iteration, when you make your. ' next fermon ; fome fay, you are in deep difcontcnt at the L xxxii THE LIFE O F * new turn of affairs ; others, that you are fo much in the ' Archbifhop's good graces, that you will not correfpond with * any that havx' fecn the laft miniftry. Some affirm, you * have quarrel'd with Pope, whofe friends they obferve daily ' tall from him on account of his fatyrical, and comical dif- ' pofition ; others that you are iiifinuating yourfelf into the * opinion of the ingenious Mr. What-do-ye-call-him. Some ' think you are preparing your fermons lor the prefs, and * others that you will transform them into tffays and moral ' difcourfcs. But the only excufe, that I will allow is, your ' attention to the life of Zoilus, the Frogs already feem to ' croak for their tranfportation to England, and are fenfible ' how much that Doctor is curfed and hated, who introduced * their fpecies into your nation ; therefore, as you dread the ' wrath of St. Patrick, fend them hither, and rid your king- * dom of thofe pernicious and loquacious Animals, ' I have at length received your poem out of Mr. Addifon's * hands, which iTiall be fent as foon as you order it, and in * what manner you fliall appoint. I fhall in the mean time * give Mr. Tooke a packet for you, confifting of divers merry ' pieces. Mr. Gay's new farce, Mr. Burnet's letter to Mr. ' Pope, Mr. Pope's Temple of Fame, Mr. Thomas Burnet's * Grumbler on Mr. Gay, and the Bifhop of Ailfbury's Elegy, * written either by Mr. Gary or fome other hand. * Mr. Pope is reading a letter, and in the mean time, I make ' ufe of the pen to teftify my uncafinefs in not hearing from THOMAS P A R N E r. L XXXIII * you. I find fuccefs, even in the mofl trivial things, raifes * the indignation of fcriblers : for I, for my What-d'-ye- * call-it, could neither efcape the fury of Mr. Burnet, or the * German Dodlor; then where will rage end, when Homer is to * be traflated ? let Zoilus haften to your friend's afTiftance, and * envious criticifm fhall be no more. I am in hopes that we may ' order our affairs fo as to meet this fummer at the Bath ; for * Mr. Pope and myfelf have thoughts of taking a trip thither. * You fhall preach, and we will write lampoons ; for it is * efteemed as great an honour to leave the Bath, for fear of a * broken head, as for a Terrs Filius of Oxford to be expelled. * I have no place at court, therefore, that I may not entirely * be without one every where, fhew that I have a place in your * remembrance; * Your moft affedtionate, ' Faithful fervant, ' A. P O P E, and J. G A Y. * Homer will be publiflicd in three weeks. • I cannot finifti this trifle, witl;"uf returning my fincereft acknowledgments to Sir John Parnell for the generous aflidance he was plt-afe^i a give me, in furnifhing me with many materials, when he h^-f'J I W2-; about writiiig the li; - if his uncle ; as alio to Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, relations of our poet ; and lo r\y very good friei.i. .'... Steevens, who, being an ornament to letters himfclf, is very ready to alTift all the attempts ot others. TO THE Right Honouraele ROBERT, Earl of OXFORD, AND EarlMOR TIMER. SUCH were the notes, thy once-lov'd Poet fung, 'Till death untimely ftop'd his tuneful tongue. Oh juft beheld, and loft ! admir'd, and mourn'd ! With fofteft manners, gentleft arts, adorn'd ! Bleft in each faience, bleft in ev'ry ftrain ! Dear to the Mufe, to Harley dear — in vain ! k xxxvi DEDICATION. For him, thou oft haft bid the world attend, Fond to forget the ftatefman in the friend : For Swift and him, defpis'd the farce of ftate, The fobcr follies of the wife and great ; Dextrous, the craving, fawning croud to quit, And pleas'd to 'fcape from flattery to wit. Abfent or dead, ftill let a friend be dear, A figh the abfent claims, the dead a tear, Recal thofe nights that clos'd thy toilfome days, Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays : Who, carelefs now, of int'reft, fame, or fate, Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great ; Or deeming meaneft what we greateft call, Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall. And fure, if ought below the feats divine Can touch immortals, 'tis a foul like thine : A foul fupremc, in each hard inftance try'd, Above all pain, all anger, and all pride, The rage of pow'r, the blaft of public breath. The lufl of lucre, and the dread of death. DEDICATION. xxxvii In vain to defarts thy retreat is made ; The Mufe attends thee to thy filent fhade : 'Tis her's, the brave man's lateft fteps to trace, Re-judge his adls, and dignify difgrace, When int'reft calls off all her fneaking train, When all th' oblig'd defcrt, and all the vain ; She waits, or to the fcafFold, or the cell, When the laft ling'ring friend has bid farewel. E'en now fhe fKades thy evening-walk with bays, No hireling fhe, no proftitute to praife. E'en now, obfervant of the parting ray, Eyes the calm fun-fct of thy various day, Thro' fortune's cloud one truly great can fee, Nor fears to tell, that Mortimer is he. Sept. 25, 1721. A. P O P E. H d: OR THE RISE OF WOMAN. WHAT anticnt times, thofe times we fancy wife. Have left on long record of woman's rife, What morals teach it, and what fables hide, What author wrote it, how that author dy'd. All thefe I fing. In Greece they fram'd the tale ; In Greece, 'twas thought, a woman might be frail, Ye modern beauties ! where the poet drew His foftefl pencil, think he dreamt of you ; B THE RISE OF WOMAN. And warn'd by him, yc wanton pens, beware How heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the Fair. The cafe was Hefiod's ; he the fable writ ; Some think with meaning, fome with idle wit : Perhaps 'tis either, as the ladies pleafe : I wave the conteft, and commence the lays. In days of yore, no matter where or when, 'Twas ere the low creation fwarm'd with men, That one Prometheus, fprung of heav'nly birth, Our author's fong can witnefs, liv'd on earth. He carv'd the turf to mold a manly frame, And ftole from Jove his animating flame. The fly contrivance o'er Olympus ran. When thus the monarch of the ftars began. Oh vers'd in arts ! whofe daring thoughts afpire To kindle clay with never-dying fire ! Enjoy thy glory paft, that gift was thine ; .The next thy creature meets, be fairly mine : And fuch a gift, a vengeance fo defign'd, As fuits the counfel of a God to find ; A pleafing bofom-cheat, a fpecious ill. Which felt they curfe, yet covet ftill to feeL THE RISE OF WO. MAN. He faid, and Vulcan ftrait the Sire commands. To temper mortar with etherial hands ; In fiich a fliape to mold a rifing fair, As virgin-goddeffes are proud to wear, To make her eyes with diamond-water fhine. And form her organs for a voice divine, 'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd ; the Pow'r obey'd ; And work'd, and wonder'd at the work he made ; The faireft, fofteft, fweeteft frame beneath. Now made to feem, now more than feem to breathe. As Vulcan ends, the chearful Queen of charms Clafp'd the new-panting creature in her arms -, From that embrace a fine complexion fpread. Where mingled whitenefs glow'd with fofter red. Then in a kifs fhe breath'd her various arts, Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts ; A mind for love, but ftill a changing mind ; The lifp affedted, and the glance defign'd ; The fweet confufing blufh, the fecret wink, The gentle-fwimming walk, the courteous fink. The flare for flrangenefs fit, for fcorn the frown. For decent yielding, looks declining down. THE. RISE OF WOMAN. The praftis'd languifli, where well-feign'd defirc Would own its melting in a mutual fire ; Gay fmiles to comfort ; April fhow'rs to move ; And all the nature, all the art, of love. Gold-fcepter'd Juno next exalts the Fair ; Her touch endows her with imperious air, Self-valuin-g fancy, highly-crefted pride. Strong fov'reign will, and fome deiire to chide : For which, an eloquence, that aims to vex. With native tropes of anger, arms the fex. Minerva, fkilful goddefs, train'd the maid To twirl the fpindle by the twifting thread, To fix the loom, inftruft the reeds to part, Crofs the long weft, and clofe the web with art. An ufeful gift ; but what profufe expence ; What world of fafhions, took their rife from hence ! Young Hermes next, a clofe-contriving God, Her brows encircled with his ferpent rod : Then plots and fair excufes filFd her brain. The views of breaking am'rous vows for gain^ THE RISE OF WOMAN. The price of favours ; the de{igniiig arts That aim at riches in contempt of hearts ; And for a comfort in the marriage life, The Httle, pilf'ring temper of a wife. Full on the fair his beams Apollo flung, And fond perfuafion tipp'd her eafy tongue ; He gave her words, where oily flatt'ry lays The pleaflng colours of the art of praife ; And wit, to fcandal exquifitely prone. Which frets another's fpleen to cure its own. Thofe facred Virgins whom the bards revere, Tun'd all her voice, and fhed a fvveetnefs there, To make her fenfe with double charms abound, Or make her lively nonfenfe pleafe by found. To drefs the maid, the decent Graces brought A robe in all the dies of beauty wrought. And plac'd their boxes o'er a rich brocade Where pi6tur'd loves on ev'ry cover play'd ; Then fpread thofe implements that Vulcan's art Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's heart ; C T HE RISE O h W O M A X. The wire to curl, the clofe-indented comb To call the locks, that lightly wander, home ; And chief, the mirrour, where the raviOi'd maid Beholds and lovx^s her own refleded fhade. Fair Flora lent her ftores ; the purpled Hours Confin'd her trefl'es with a wreath of flow'rs ; Within the wreath arofe a radiant crown ; A veil pellucid hung depending down ; Back roird her azure veil with ferpent fold, The purfled border deck'd the floor with gold. Her robe, which clofely by the girdle brac'd Reveal'd the beauties of a flender wafle, Flow'd to the feet ; to copy Venus air, When Venus' ftatues have a robe to wear. The new-fprung creature finifh'd thus for harms, Adjufts her habit, praftifes her charms, With blufhes glows, or fhines with lively fmiles, Confirms her will, or recoUedls her wiles : Then confcious of her worth, with eafy pace Glides by the glafs, and turning views her face. THE RISE OF W O iM A N. A finer flax than what they wrought before, Thro' time's deep cave, the fifter Fates explore, Then fix the loom, their fingers nimbly weav^e. And thus their toil prophetick fongs deceive. Flow from the rock, my flax ! and fwiftly flow, Purfue thy thread ; the fpindle runs below. A creature fond and changing, fair and vain, The creature woman, rifes now to reign. New beauty blooms, a beauty form'd to fly ; New love begins, a love produced to die ; New parts diftrefs the troubled fcenes of life. The fondling miftrefs, and the ruling wife. Men, born to labour, all with pains provide ; Women have time, to facrifice to pride : They want the care of man, their want they know,. And drefs to pleafe with heart-alluring fhow, The fliow prevailing, for the fway contend, And make a fervant where they meet a friend. Thus in a thoufand wax-ercdted forts, A loitering race the painful bee fupports, THE RISE OF WOMAN. From fun to fun, from bank to bank he flies, With honey loads his bags, with wax his thighs ; Fly vvhere he will, at home the race remain, Prune the fllk drefs, and murm'ring eat the gain. Yet here and there we grant a gentle bride, Whofe temper betters by the father's flde ; Unlike the reft that double human care, Fond to relieve, or refolute to fhare : Happy the man whom thus his ftars advance ! The curfe is gen'ral, but the blefling chance. Thus fung the fifters, while the gods admire Their beauteous creature, made for man in ire ; The young Pandora fhe, whom all contend To make too perfedl not to gain her end : Then bid the winds that fly to breathe the fpring, Return to bear her on a gentle wing ; With wafting airs the winds obfequious blow. And land the fhining vengeance fafe below. A golden cofl"er in her hand fhe bore. The prefent treacherous, bui the bearer more, 'Twas fraught with pangs ; for Jove ordain'd above. That gold fliou'd aid, and pangs attend on love. THE RISE OF WOMAN. Her gay defcent the man perceiv'd afar, Wond'ring he run to catch the falling ftar ; But fo furpriz'd, as none but he can tell, Who lov'd fo quickly, and who lov'd fo well. O'er all his veins the wandVing paflion burns. He calls her nymph, and ev'ry nymph by turns. Her form to lovely Venus he prefers, Or fwears that Venus' muft be fuch as hers. She, proud to rule, yet flrangely fram'd to teize, Negledls his offers while her airs fhe plays. Shoots fcornful glances from the bended frown, In brifk difordcr trips it up and down. Then hums a carelefs tune to lay the ftorm, And fits, and blufhes, fmiles, and yields in form. " Now take what Jove defign'd, fhe foftly cry'd," " This box thy portion, and myfelf thy bride :" Fir'd with the profpedl of the double charms. He fnatch'd the box, and bride, with eager arms. Unhappy man ! to whom fo bright flie fhone, The fatal gift, her tempting felf, unknown ! The winds were {ilent, all the waves afleep, And heav'n was traced upon the flatt'ring deep ; D lO THE RISE OF WOMAN, But whilfl: he looks unmindful of a ftorm, And thinks the water wears a ftablc form, What dreadful din around his ears fhall rife ! What frowns confufe his picture of the fkies ! At firfl: the creature man was fram'd alone, Lord of himfelf, and all the world his own. For him the nymphs in green forfook the woods, For him the nymphs in blue forfook the floods. In vain the fatyrs rage, the tritons rave, They bore him heroes in the fecret cave. No care deftroy'd, no fick diforder'd prey'd. No bending age his fprightly form decay'd, No wars were known, no females heard to rage. And poets tell us, 'tw^as a golden age. When woman came, thofe ills the box confin'd Burft furious out, and poifon'd all the wind, From point to point, from pole to pole they flew. Spread as they went, and in the progrefs grew : The nymphs regretting left the mortal race. And altering nature wore a fickly face : New terms of folly rofe, new ftates of care ; New plagues to fuffer, and to pleafe the fair L THE R I S ]•: OF W O M A N. The days of whining, and of wild intrigues, Commenc'd, or finifh'd with the breach of leagues ; The mean deiigns of well-difTembled love ; The fordid matches never join'd above ; Abroad the labour, and at home the noife, Man's double fufF'xings for domeftick joys, The curfe of jealoufy ; expence, and ftrife ; Divorce, the publick brand of fhameful life ; The rival's fword ; the qualm that takes the fair ; Difdain for pafHon, paflion in defpair Thefe, and a thoufand yet unnam'd, we find ; Ah fear the thoufand yet unnam'd behind ! Thus on Parnaflus tuneful Hefiod fung, The mountain echo'd, and the valley rung, The facred groves a fix'd attention ihow, The chryftal Helicon forbore to flow, The fky grew bright, and, if his verfe be true. The mufes came to give the laurel too. But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit. If love fwore vengeance tor the tales he writ ? Ye fair offended, hear your friend relate What lieavy judgment prov'd the writer's fate^ THE RISE OF WOMAN. Tho' when it happen'd, no relation clears, "Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years. Where, dark and filent, with a twifled fhade The neighb'ring woods a native arbour made, There oft a tender pair for am'rous play Retiring, toy'd the ravifh'd hours away ; A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he, A fair Milefian, kind Evanthe fhe : But fwelling nature in a fatal hour Betray'd the fecrets of the confcious bow'r ; The dire difgrace her brothers count their own, And track her fteps, to make its author known. It chanc'd one evening, 'twas the lover's day, Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay ; When Hefiod wand'ring, mus'd along the plain. And fix'd his feat where love had fix'd the fccne : A ftrong fufpicion ftrait poflefs'd their mind, For poets ever were a gentle kind. But when Evanthe near the paffage ftood, Flung back a doubtful look and fhot the wood, " Now take," at once they cry," thy due reward." And urg'd with erring rage, alTault the bard. THE RISE OF WOMAN. His corps the Tea receiv'd. The dolphins bore, 'Twas all the gods would do, the corps to fhore. Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes, And fee the dreams of antient wifdom rife ; I fee the Mufes round the body cry, But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by ; He wheels his arrow with infulting hand. And thus infcribes the moral on the fand, Here Hefiod lies : ye future bards, beware How far your moral tales incenfe the fair : Unlov'd, unloving, 'twas his fate to bleed ; Without his quiver Cupid caus'd the deed : He judg'd this turn of malice juftly due. And HejQod dy'd for joys he never knew." ^3 (C (C K »4 SONG. WHEN thy beauty appears In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropt from the fky ; At diftance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears, So ftrangely you dazzle my eye ! But when without art, Your kind thoughts you impart. When your love runs in blufhes thro' ev'ry vein ; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again. There's a pafTion and pride In our fex, fhe reply'd. And thus, might I gratify both, I wou'd do : Still an angel appear to each lover befide, But ftill be a woman to you. iS SONG. THYRSI S, a young and am'rous fwain, Saw two, the beauties of the plain, Who both his heart fubdue : Gay Caelia's eyes were dazzling fair, Sabina's eafy fhape and air With fofter magick drew. He haunts the ftream, he haunts the grove, Lives in a fond romance of love, And feems for each to dye ; 'Till each a little fpiteful grown, Sabina, Caelia's fhape ran down, And fhe Sabina's eye. Their envy made the fhepherd find Thofe eyes, which love cou'd only blind ; So fet the lover free : No more he haunts the grove or ftream, Or with a true-love knot and name Engraves a wounded tree. i6 SONG. Ah Caelia ! fly Sabina cry'd, Tho' neither love, we're both dcny'd ; Now to fupport the fex's pride, Let either fix the dart. Poor girl, fays Caelia, fay no more ; For fliou'd the Swain but one adore. That fpite which broke his chains before, Wou'd break the other's heart. J7 SONG. M Y days have been fo wond'rous free, The little birds that fly, With carelefs eafe from tree to tree, Were but as bleft as I. Afk gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increas'd their ftream ? Or afk the flying gales, if e'er I lent one flgh to them ? But now my former days retire. And I'm by beauty caught, The tender chains of fweet deflre Are fix'd upon my thought. Ye nightingales, ye twifting pines ! Ye fwains that haunt the grove ! Ye gentle echoes, breezy winds ! Ye clofe retreats of love I F SONG. With all of nature, all of art, AfTift the dear defign ; O teach a young, unpradis'd heart, To make my Nancy mine. The very thought of change I hate, As much as of defpair ; Nor ever covet to be great, Unlefs it be for her. 'Tis true, the paiTlon in my mind Is mix'd with foft diftrefs ; Yet while the fair I love is kind, I cannot wifli it lefs. >9 ANACREONTIC. WHEN fpring came on with frefli delight. To cheer the foul, and charm the fight, While eafy breezes, fofter rain, And warmer funs falute the plain ; 'Twas then in yonder piny grove. That Nature went to meet with Love^ Green was her robe, and green her wreathj Where-e'er fhe trod, 'twas green beneath ; Where-e'er fhe turn'd, the pulfes beat With new recruits of genial heat ; And in her train the birds appear. To match for all the coming year. , Rais'd on a bank, where daifies grew. And vi'lets intermix'd a blue, She finds the boy (he went to find ; A thoufand pleafurcs wait behind, zc vV N yV C R E O N T I C. A fide, a thoufand arrows lye, But all unfcathcr'd wait to fly. When they met, the Dame and Boy, Dancing Graces, idle Joy, Wanton Smiles, and airy Play, Confpir'd to make the fcene be gay ; Love pair'd the birds through all the grove. And Nature bid them flng to Love, Sitting, hopping, flutt'ring, flng, And pay their tribute from the wing. To fledge the fliafts that idly lye, And yet unfeather'd wait to fly. 'Tis thus, when fpring renews the blood. They meet in ev'ry trembling wood, And thrice they make the plumes agree. And ev'ry dart they mount with three, And ev'ry dart can boafl: a kind. Which fuits each proper turn of mind. From the tow'ring Eagle's plume The gen'rous hearts accept their doom ; ANACREONTIC. Shot by the peacock's painted eye The vain and airy lovers dye : For careful dames and frugal men, The fliafts are fpeckled by the hen. The pyes and parrots deck the darts, When prattling wins the panting hearts ; When from the voice the paflions fpring. The warbling finch affords a wing : Together, by the fparrow flung, Down fall the wanton and the young : And fledg'd by geefe the weapons fly. When others love they know not why. All this, as late I chanc'd to rove, I learn'd in yonder waving grove. And fee, fays Love, who call'd me near, How much I deal with Nature here. How both fupport a proper part. She gives the feather, I the dart : Then ceafe for fouls averfe to figh, If Nature crofs ye, fo do I ; My weapon there unfcather'd flies, And fhakes and fhuffles through the fkies. G ANACREONTIC. But if the mutual charms I find By which fhe links you mind to mind, They Aving my {hafts, I poize the darts. And flrike from both, through both your licarts. 23 ANACREONTIC. GAY Bacchus liking Eftcourt's wine, A noble meal bcfpoke us ; And for the guefts that were to dine, Brought Conius, Love and Jocus. The God near Cupid drew his chair, Near Comus, Jocus plac'd ; For wine makes Love forget it care, And Mirth exalts a feaft. The more to pleafe the fprightly God, Each fweet engaging Grace Put on fome cloaths to come abroad, And took ti waiter's place. Then Cupid nam'd at every glafs A lady of the iky ; While Bacchus fwore he'd drink the lafs. And had it bumper high. 24 A N A C R E O N T I Fat Comus toft his brimmers o'er, And always got the moft ; Jocus took care to fill him more, Whene'er he mift the toaft. They call'd and drank at every touch ; He fill'd, and drank again ; And if the Gods can take too much, 'Tis faid, they did fo then. Gay Bacchus little Cupid ftung, By reck'ning his deceits ; And Cupid mock'd his ftammering tongue, With all his ftagg'ring gaits : And Jocus droU'd on Comus' ways, And tales without a jeft ; While Comus call'd his witty plays But waggeries at beft. Such talk foon fet them all at odds ; And, had I Homer's pen, I'd fing ye, how they drank like Gods, And how they fought like men. ANACREONTIC. 25 To part the fray, the Graces fly, Who make 'em foon agree ; Nay had the furies felves been nigh, They ftill were three to three. Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up. And gave him back his bow ; But kept fome darts to flir the cup, Where fack and fugar flow. Jocus took Comus' rofy crown, And gayly wore the prize. And thrice, in mirth, he pufli'd him down, As thrice he fl;rove to rife. Then Cupid fought the myrtle grove. Where Venus did recline ; And Venus clofe embracing Love, They join'd to rail at wine. And Comus loudly curling wit, RoU'd off to fome retreat. Where boon companions gravely flt In fat unwieldy fl:ate. H 26 A N A C R E O N 1 I C. Bacchus and Jocus, ftill behind, For one frcfh glafs prepare ; They kifs, and are exceeding kind, And vow to be iincere. But part in time, whoever hear This our inftru