The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume Ii Part 18

In separate cells, the he's and she's, Here pay their vows on bended knees: For 'tis profane when s.e.xes mingle, And every nymph must enter single; And when she feels an inward motion, Come fill'd with reverence and devotion.

The bashful maid, to hide her blush, Shall creep no more behind a bush; Here un.o.bserved she boldly goes, As who should say, to pluck a rose,[16]

Ye, who frequent this hallow'd scene, Be not ungrateful to the Dean; But duly, ere you leave your station, Offer to him a pure libation, Or of his own or Smedley's lay, Or billet-doux, or lock of hay: And, O! may all who hither come, Return with unpolluted thumb!

Yet, when your lofty domes I praise I sigh to think of ancient days.

Permit me then to raise my style, And sweetly moralize a-while.

Thee, bounteous G.o.ddess Cloacine, To temples why do we confine?

Forbid in open air to breathe, Why are thine altars fix'd beneath?

When Saturn ruled the skies alone, (That golden age to gold unknown,) This earthly globe, to thee a.s.sign'd, Received the gifts of all mankind.

Ten thousand altars smoking round, Were built to thee with offerings crown'd; And here thy daily votaries placed Their sacrifice with zeal and haste: The margin of a purling stream Sent up to thee a grateful steam; Though sometimes thou wert pleased to wink, If Naiads swept them from the brink: Or where appointing lovers rove, The shelter of a shady grove; Or offer'd in some flowery vale, Were wafted by a gentle gale, There many a flower abstersive grew, Thy favourite flowers of yellow hue; The crocus and the daffodil, The cowslip soft, and sweet jonquil.

But when at last usurping Jove Old Saturn from his empire drove, Then gluttony, with greasy paws Her napkin pinn'd up to her jaws, With watery chops, and wagging chin, Braced like a drum her oily skin; Wedged in a s.p.a.cious elbow-chair, And on her plate a treble share, As if she ne'er could have enough, Taught harmless man to cram and stuff.

She sent her priests in wooden shoes From haughty Gaul to make ragouts; Instead of wholesome bread and cheese, To dress their soups and frica.s.sees; And, for our home-bred British cheer, Botargo, catsup, and caviare.

This bloated harpy, sprung from h.e.l.l, Confined thee, G.o.ddess, to a cell: Sprung from her womb that impious line, Contemners of thy rites divine.

First, lolling Sloth, in woollen cap, Taking her after-dinner nap: Pale Dropsy, with a sallow face, Her belly burst, and slow her pace: And lordly Gout, wrapt up in fur, And wheezing Asthma, loth to stir: Voluptuous Ease, the child of wealth, Infecting thus our hearts by stealth.

None seek thee now in open air, To thee no verdant altars rear; But, in their cells and vaults obscene, Present a sacrifice unclean; From whence unsavoury vapours rose, Offensive to thy nicer nose.

Ah! who, in our degenerate days, As nature prompts, his offering pays?

Here nature never difference made Between the sceptre and the spade.

Ye great ones, why will ye disdain To pay your tribute on the plain?

Why will you place in lazy pride Your altars near your couches' side: When from the homeliest earthen ware Are sent up offerings more sincere, Than where the haughty d.u.c.h.ess locks Her silver vase in cedar box?

Yet some devotion still remains Among our harmless northern swains, Whose offerings, placed in golden ranks, Adorn our crystal rivers' banks; Nor seldom grace the flowery downs, With spiral tops and copple [27] crowns; Or gilding in a sunny morn The humble branches of a thorn.

So poets sing, with golden bough The Trojan hero paid his vow.[28]

Hither, by luckless error led, The crude consistence oft I tread; Here when my shoes are out of case, Unweeting gild the tarnish'd lace; Here, by the sacred bramble tinged, My petticoat is doubly fringed.

Be witness for me, nymph divine, I never robb'd thee with design; Nor will the zealous Hannah pout To wash thy injured offering out.

But stop, ambitious Muse, in time, Nor dwell on subjects too sublime.

In vain on lofty heels I tread, Aspiring to exalt my head; With hoop expanded wide and light, In vain I 'tempt too high a flight.

Me Phoebus [29] in a midnight dream [30]

Accosting, said, "Go shake your cream [31]

Be humbly-minded, know your post; Sweeten your tea, and watch your toast.

Thee best befits a lowly style; Teach Dennis how to stir the guile;[32]

With Peggy Dixon[33] thoughtful sit, Contriving for the pot and spit.

Take down thy proudly swelling sails, And rub thy teeth and pare thy nails; At nicely carving show thy wit; But ne'er presume to eat a bit: Turn every way thy watchful eye, And every guest be sure to ply: Let never at your board be known An empty plate, except your own.

Be these thy arts;[34] nor higher aim Than what befits a rural dame.

"But Cloacina, G.o.ddess bright, Sleek----claims her as his right; And Smedley,[35] flower of all divines, Shall sing the Dean in Smedley's lines."

[Footnote 1: The Lady of Sir Arthur Acheson.]

[Footnote 2: A village near Sir Arthur Acheson's house where the author pa.s.sed two summers.--_Dublin Edition_.]

[Footnote 3: The names of two overseers.]

[Footnote 4: My lady's footman.]

[Footnote 4: Dr. Daniel, Dean of Down, who wrote several poems.]

[Footnote 5: The author preached but once while he was there.]

[Footnote 6: He sometimes used to direct the butler.]

[Footnote 7: The butler.]

[Footnote 8: He sometimes used to walk with the lady. See _ante_, p. 96.]

[Footnote 9: The neighbouring ladies were no great understanders of raillery.]

[Footnote 10: The clown that cut down the old thorn at Market-Hill.]

[Footnote 11: See _ante_, "My Lady's Lamentation," p. 97.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 12: Lady Acheson was daughter of Philip Savage, M. P. for Wexford, and Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ireland.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 13: Understood here as _dainty, particular.--W. E. B._]

[Footnote 14: A way of making b.u.t.ter for breakfast, by filling a bottle with cream, and shaking it till the b.u.t.ter comes.]

[Footnote 15: It is a common saying, when the milk burns, that the devil or the bishop has set his foot in it.]

[Footnote 16: See vol. i, p. 203.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 27: Fragments of stone.]

[Footnote 28: Virg., "Aeneidos," lib. vi.]

[Footnote 29: "Cynthius aurem Vellit et admonuit."--VIRG., _Ecloga_ vi, 3.]

[Footnote 30: "Post mediam noctem visus, c.u.m somnia vera."--HOR., _Sat_, I, x, 33.]

[Footnote 31: In the bottle to make b.u.t.ter.]

[Footnote 32: The quant.i.ty of ale or beer brewed at one time.]

[Footnote 33: Mrs. Dixon, the housekeeper.]

[Footnote 34: "Hac tibi erunt artes."--VIRG., _Aen_., vi, 852.]

[Footnote 35: A very stupid, insolent, factious, deformed, conceited person; a vile pretender to poetry, preferred by the Duke of Grafton for his wit.]

TWELVE ARTICLES[1]

I LEST it may more quarrels breed, I will never hear you read.

II By disputing, I will never, To convince you once endeavour.

III When a paradox you stick to, I will never contradict you.

IV When I talk and you are heedless, I will show no anger needless.

V When your speeches are absurd, I will ne'er object a word.