The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume Ii Part 19

VI When you furious argue wrong, I will grieve and hold my tongue.

VII Not a jest or humorous story Will I ever tell before ye: To be chidden for explaining, When you quite mistake the meaning.

VIII Never more will I suppose, You can taste my verse or prose.

IX You no more at me shall fret, While I teach and you forget.

X You shall never hear me thunder, When you blunder on, and blunder.

XI Show your poverty of spirit, And in dress place all your merit; Give yourself ten thousand airs: That with me shall break no squares.[2]

XII Never will I give advice, Till you please to ask me thrice: Which if you in scorn reject, 'Twill be just as I expect.

Thus we both shall have our ends, And continue special friends.

[Footnote 1: Addressed to Lady Acheson.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: That is, will do no harm--we shall not disagree.

"At Blank-Blank Square;--for we will break no squares By naming streets."

_Don Juan_, Canto XIII, st. xxv.

See Mr. Coleridge's note on this; Byron's Works, edit. 1903.--_W. E. B._]

POLITICAL POETRY

PARODY

ON THE RECORDER OF BLESSINGTON'S ADDRESS TO QUEEN ANNE

_Mr. William Crowe, Recorder of Blessington's Address to her Majesty, as copied from the London Gazette_.

To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty,

The humble Address of the Sovereign, Recorder, Burgesses, and Freemen, of the Borough of Blessington.

May it please your Majesty, Though we stand almost last on the roll of boroughs of this your majesty's kingdom of Ireland, and therefore, in good manners to our elder brothers, press but late among the joyful crowd about your royal throne: yet we beg leave to a.s.sure your majesty, that we come behind none in our good affection to your sacred person and government; insomuch, that the late surprising accounts from Germany have filled us with a joy not inferior to any of our fellow-subjects.

We heard with transport that the English warmed the field to that degree, that thirty squadrons, part of the vanquished enemy, were forced to fly to water, not able to stand their fire, and drank their last draught in the Danube, for the waste they had before committed on its injured banks, thereby putting an end to their master's long-boasted victories: a glorious push indeed, and worthy a general of the Queen of England. And we are not a little pleased, to find several gentlemen in considerable posts of your majesty's army, who drew their first breath in this country, sharing in the good fortune of those who so effectually put in execution the command of your gallant, enterprizing general, whose twin-battles have, with his own t.i.tle of Marlborough, given immortality to the otherwise perishing names of Sch.e.l.lenberg and Hogstete: actions that speak him born under stars as propitious to England as that he now wears, on both which he has so often reflected l.u.s.tre, as to have now abundantly repaid the glory they once lent him. Nor can we but congratulate with a joy proportioned to the success of your majesty's fleet, our last campaign at sea, since by it we observe the French obliged to steer their wonted course for security, to their ports; and Gibraltar, the Spaniards' ancient defence, bravely stormed, possessed, and maintained by your majesty's subjects.

May the supplies for reducing the exorbitant power of France be such, as may soon turn your wreaths of laurel into branches of olive: that, after the toils of a just and honourable war, carried on by a confederacy of which your majesty is most truly, as of the faith, styled Defender, we may live to enjoy, under your majesty's auspicious government, the blessings of a profound and lasting peace; a peace beyond the power of him to violate, who, but for his own unreasonable conveniency, destructive always of his neighbours, never yet kept any. And, to complete our happiness, may your majesty again prove to _your own family_, what you have been so eminently to the true church, a nursing mother. So wish, and so pray, may it please your majesty, your majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects, and devoted humble servants.

This Address was presented January 17, 1704-5.

MR. WILLIAM CROWE'S ADDRESS TO HER MAJESTY, TURNED INTO METRE

From a town that consists of a church and a steeple, With three or four houses, and as many people, There went an Address in great form and good order, Composed, as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their Recorder.[1]

And thus it began to an excellent tune: Forgive us, good madam, that we did not as soon As the rest of the cities and towns of this nation Wish your majesty joy on this glorious occasion.

Not that we're less hearty or loyal than others, But having a great many sisters and brothers, Our borough in riches and years far exceeding, We let them speak first, to show our good breeding.

We have heard with much transport and great satisfaction Of the victory obtain'd in the late famous action, When the field was so warm'd, that it soon grew too hot For the French and Bavarians, who had all gone to pot, But that they thought best in great haste to retire, And leap into the water for fear of the fire.

But says the good river, Ye fools, plague confound ye, Do ye think to swim through me, and that I'll not drown ye?

Who have ravish'd, and murder'd, and play'd such d.a.m.n'd pranks, And trod down the gra.s.s on my much-injured banks?

Then, swelling with anger and rage to the brink, He gave the poor Monsieur his last draught of drink.

So it plainly appears they were very well bang'd, And that some may be drown'd, who deserved to be hang'd.

Great Marlbro' well push'd: 'twas well push'd indeed: Oh, how we adore you, because you succeed!

And now I may say it, I hope without blushing, That you have got twins, by your violent pushing; Twin battles I mean, that will ne'er be forgotten, But live and be talk'd of, when we're dead and rotten.

Let other nice lords sculk at home from the wars, Prank'd up and adorn'd with garters and stars, Which but twinkle like those in a cold frosty night; While to yours you are adding such l.u.s.tre and light, That if you proceed, I'm sure very soon 'Twill be brighter and larger than the sun or the moon: A blazing star, I foretell, 'twill prove to the Gaul, That portends of his empire the ruin and fall.

Now G.o.d bless your majesty, and our Lord Murrough,[2]

And send him in safety and health to his borough.

[Footnote 1: Subsequently M.P. for Blessington, in the Irish Parliament; he suffered some injustice from Wharton, when Lord-Lieutenant: he lost his senses, and died in 1710. See Journal to Stella, "Prose Works," ii, pp. 39, 54; and Character of the Earl of Wharton, "Prose Works," v, p.

27.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Murragh Boyle, first Viscount Blessington, author of a tragedy, "The Lost Princess." He died in 1712.--_W. E. B._]

JACK FRENCHMAN'S LAMENTATION[1]

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG

To the Tune of "I tell thee, d.i.c.k, where I have been."[2]

Ye Commons and Peers, Pray lend me your ears, I'll sing you a song, (if I can,) How Lewis le Grand Was put to a stand, By the arms of our gracious Queen Anne.

How his army so great, Had a total defeat, And close by the river Dender: Where his grandchildren twain, For fear of being slain, Gallop'd off with the Popish Pretender.

To a steeple on high, The battle to spy, Up mounted these clever young men;[3]

But when from the spire, They saw so much fire, Most cleverly came down again.

Then on horseback they got All on the same spot, By advice of their cousin Vendosme, O Lord! cried out he, Unto young _Burgundy_, Would your brother and you were at home!

While this he did say, Without more delay, Away the young gentry fled; Whose heels for that work, Were much lighter than cork, Though their hearts were as heavy as lead.

Not so did behave Young Hanover brave,[4]

In this b.l.o.o.d.y field I a.s.sure ye: When his war-horse was shot He valued it not, But fought it on foot like a fury.

Full firmly he stood, As became his high blood, Which runs in his veins so blue: For this gallant young man, Being a-kin to QUEEN ANNE, Did as (were she a man) she would do.

What a racket was here, (I think 'twas last year,) For a little misfortune in Spain!

For by letting 'em win, We have drawn the puts in, To lose all they're worth this campaign.