The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume I Part 49

The furniture that best doth please St. Patrick's Dean, good Sir, are these: The knife and fork with which I eat; And next the pot that boils the meat; The next to be preferr'd, I think, Is the gla.s.s in which I drink; The shelves on which my books I keep And the bed on which I sleep; An antique elbow-chair between, Big enough to hold the Dean; And the stove that gives delight In the cold bleak wintry night: To these we add a thing below, More for use reserved than show: These are what the Dean do please; All superfluous are but these.

EPITAPH INSCRIBED ON A MARBLE TABLET, IN BERKELEY CHURCH, GLOUCESTERSHIRE

H. S. E.

[*text centered]

CAROLUS Comes de BERKELEY, Vicecomes DURSLEY, Baro BERKELEY, de Berkeley Cast., MOWBRAY, SEGRAVE, Et BRUCE, e n.o.bilissimo Ordine Balnei Eques, Vir ad genus quod spectat et proavos usquequaque n.o.bilis Et longo si quis alius procerum stemmate editus; Muniis etiam tarn ill.u.s.tri stirpi dignis insignitus.

Siquidem a GULIELMO III ad ordines foederati Belgii Ablegatus et Plenipotentiarius Extraordinarius Rebus, non Britanniae tantum, sed totius fere Europae (Tunc temporis praesertim arduis) per annos V. incubuit, Quam felici diligentia, fide quam intemerata, Ex illo discas, Lector, quod, superst.i.te patre, In magnatum ordinem adscisci meruerit.

Fuit a sanctioribus consiliis et Regi GULIEL. et ANNAE Reginae E proregibus Hiberniae secundus, Comitatum civitatumque Glocest. et Brist. Dominus Loc.u.mtenens, Surriae et Glocest. Gustos Rot., Urbis Glocest. magnus Senescallus, Arcis sancti de Briavell Castella.n.u.s, Guardia.n.u.s Forestae de Dean.

Denique ad Turcarum primum, deinde ad Romam Imperatorem c.u.m Legatus Extraordinarius designatus esset, Quo minus has etiam ornaret provincias Obst.i.tit adversa corporis valetudo.

Sed restat adhuc, prae quo sordesc.u.n.t caetera, Honos verus, stabilis, et vel morti cedere nescius Qud veritatem evangelicam seri amplexus; Erga Deum pius, erga pauperes munificus, Adversus omnes aequus et benevolus, In Christo jam placide obdormit c.u.m eodem olim regnaturus una.

Natus VIII April. MDCXLIX. denatus XXIV Septem. MDCCX. aetat. suae LXII.

EPITAPH

ON FREDERICK, DUKE OF SCHOMBERG[1]

[*text centered]

Hic infra situm est corpus FREDERICI DUCIS DE SCHOMBERG.

ad BUDINDAM occisi, A.D. 1690.

DECa.n.u.s et CAPITULUM maximopere etiam atque etiam petierunt, UT HAEREDES DUCIS monumentum In memoriam PARENTIS erigendum curarent: Sed postquam per epistolas, per amicos, diu ac saepe orando nil profecere; Hunc demum lapidem ipsi statuerunt, Saltem[2] ut scias, hospes, Ubinam terrarum s...o...b..RGENSIS cineres delitesc.u.n.t "Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos, Quam sanguinis proximitas apud suos."

A.D. 1731.

[Footnote 1: The Duke was unhappily killed in crossing the River Boyne, July, 1690, and was buried in St. Patrick's Cathedral, where the dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour, at their own expense.--_N_.]

[Footnote 2: The words with which Dr. Swift first concluded the epitaph were, "Saltem ut sciat viator indignabundus, quali in cellula tanti ductoris cineres delitesc.u.n.t."--_N._]

VERSES WRITTEN DURING LORD CARTERET'S ADMINISTRATION OF IRELAND

As Lord Carteret's residence in Ireland as Viceroy was a series of cabals against the authority of the Prime Minister, he failed not, as well from his love of literature as from his hatred to Walpole, to attach to himself as much as possible the distinguished author of the Drapier Letters. By the interest which Swift soon gained with the Lord-Lieutenant, he was enabled to recommend several friends, whose High Church or Tory principles had hitherto obstructed their preferment. The task of forwarding the views of Delany, in particular, led to several of Swift's liveliest poetical effusions, while, on the other hand, he was equally active in galling, by his satire, Smedley, and other Whig beaux esprits, who, during this amphibious administration, sought the favour of a literary Lord-Lieutenant, by literary offerings and poetical adulation.

These pieces, with one or two connected with the same subject, are here thrown together, as they seem to reflect light upon each other.--_Scott._

AN APOLOGY TO LADY CARTERET

A lady, wise as well as fair, Whose conscience always was her care, Thoughtful upon a point of moment, Would have the text as well as comment: So hearing of a grave divine, She sent to bid him come to dine.

But, you must know he was not quite So grave as to be unpolite: Thought human learning would not lessen The dignity of his profession: And if you'd heard the man discourse, Or preach, you'd like him scarce the worse.

He long had bid the court farewell, Retreating silent to his cell; Suspected for the love he bore To one who sway'd some time before; Which made it more surprising how He should be sent for thither now.

The message told, he gapes, and stares, And scarce believes his eyes or ears: Could not conceive what it should mean, And fain would hear it told again.

But then the squire so trim and nice, 'Twere rude to make him tell it twice; So bow'd, was thankful for the honour; And would not fail to wait upon her.

His beaver brush'd, his shoes, and gown, Away he trudges into town; Pa.s.ses the lower castle yard, And now advancing to the guard, He trembles at the thoughts of state; For, conscious of his sheepish gait, His spirits of a sudden fail'd him; He stopp'd, and could not tell what ail'd him.

What was the message I received?

Why certainly the captain raved?

To dine with her! and come at three!

Impossible! it can't be me.

Or maybe I mistook the word; My lady--it must be my lord.

My lord 's abroad; my lady too: What must the unhappy doctor do?

"Is Captain Cracherode[1] here, pray?"--"No."

"Nay, then 'tis time for me to go."

Am I awake, or do I dream?

I'm sure he call'd me by my name; Named me as plain as he could speak; And yet there must be some mistake.

Why, what a jest should I have been, Had now my lady been within!

What could I've said? I'm mighty glad She went abroad--she'd thought me mad.

The hour of dining now is past: Well then, I'll e'en go home and fast: And, since I 'scaped being made a scoff, I think I'm very fairly off.

My lady now returning home, Calls "Cracherode, is the Doctor come?"

He had not heard of him--"Pray see, 'Tis now a quarter after three."

The captain walks about, and searches Through all the rooms, and courts, and arches; Examines all the servants round, In vain--no doctor's to be found.

My lady could not choose but wonder; "Captain, I fear you've made some blunder; But, pray, to-morrow go at ten; I'll try his manners once again; If rudeness be th' effect of knowledge, My son shall never see a college."

The captain was a man of reading, And much good sense, as well as breeding; Who, loath to blame, or to incense, Said little in his own defence.

Next day another message brought; The Doctor, frighten'd at his fault, Is dress'd, and stealing through the crowd, Now pale as death, then blush'd and bow'd, Panting--and faltering--humm'd and ha'd, "Her ladyship was gone abroad: The captain too--he did not know Whether he ought to stay or go;"

Begg'd she'd forgive him. In conclusion, My lady, pitying his confusion, Call'd her good nature to relieve him; Told him, she thought she might believe him; And would not only grant his suit, But visit him, and eat some fruit, Provided, at a proper time, He told the real truth in rhyme; 'Twas to no purpose to oppose, She'd hear of no excuse in prose.

The Doctor stood not to debate, Glad to compound at any rate; So, bowing, seemingly complied; Though, if he durst, he had denied.

But first, resolved to show his taste, Was too refined to give a feast; He'd treat with nothing that was rare, But winding walks and purer air; Would entertain without expense, Or pride or vain magnificence: For well he knew, to such a guest The plainest meals must be the best.

To stomachs clogg'd with costly fare Simplicity alone is rare; While high, and nice, and curious meats Are really but vulgar treats.

Instead of spoils of Persian looms, The costly boast of regal rooms, Thought it more courtly and discreet To scatter roses at her feet; Roses of richest dye, that shone With native l.u.s.tre, like her own; Beauty that needs no aid of art Through every sense to reach the heart.

The gracious dame, though well she knew All this was much beneath her due, Liked everything--at least thought fit To praise it _par maniere d'acquit_.

Yet she, though seeming pleased, can't bear The scorching sun, or chilling air; Disturb'd alike at both extremes, Whether he shows or hides his beams: Though seeming pleased at all she sees, Starts at the ruffling of the trees, And scarce can speak for want of breath, In half a walk fatigued to death.

The Doctor takes his hint from hence, T' apologize his late offence: "Madam, the mighty power of use Now strangely pleads in my excuse; If you unused have scarcely strength To gain this walk's untoward length; If, frighten'd at a scene so rude, Through long disuse of solitude; If, long confined to fires and screens, You dread the waving of these greens; If you, who long have breathed the fumes Of city fogs and crowded rooms, Do now solicitously shun The cooler air and dazzling sun; If his majestic eye you flee, Learn hence t' excuse and pity me.

Consider what it is to bear The powder'd courtier's witty sneer; To see th' important man of dress Scoffing my college awkwardness; To be the strutting cornet's sport, To run the gauntlet of the court, Winning my way by slow approaches, Through crowds of c.o.xcombs and of coaches, From the first fierce c.o.c.kaded sentry, Quite through the tribe of waiting gentry; To pa.s.s so many crowded stages, And stand the staring of your pages: And after all, to crown my spleen, Be told--'You are not to be seen:'

Or, if you are, be forced to bear The awe of your majestic air.

And can I then be faulty found, In dreading this vexatious round?

Can it be strange, if I eschew A scene so glorious and so new?

Or is he criminal that flies The living l.u.s.tre of your eyes?"

[Footnote 1: The gentleman who brought the message.--_Scott._]

THE BIRTH OF MANLY VIRTUE

INSCRIBED TO LORD CARTERET[1]

1724

Gratior et pulcro veniens in corpore virtus.--VIRG., _Aen._, v, 344.