Like some free port of trade:
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And agents from each foreign state 5
Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good breeding such,
Whether th’ Italian or the Dutch,
Spaniards or French, came to her,
To all obliging she ‘d appear; 10
‘T was Si Signior, ‘t was Yaw Mynheer,
‘T was S’il vous plait, Monsieur.
Obscure by birth, renown’d by crimes,
Still changing names, religions, climes,
At length she turns a bride: 15
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter’d jades,
And flutters in her pride.
So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold so rare) 20
Still vary shapes and dyes;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Then painted butterflies.
Dr. Swift: The Happy Life of a Country Parson
PARSON, these things in thy possessing
Are better than the bishop’s blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there ‘s need;
October store, and best Virginia, 5
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea;
Gazettes sent gratis down and frank’d,
For which thy patron’s weekly thank’d;
A large Concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince; 10
A Chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in;
The Polyglott — three parts — my text,
Howbeit — likewise — now to my next;
Lo here the Septuagint — and Paul, 15
To sum the whole — the close of all.
He that has these may pass his life,
Drink with the ‘Squire, and kiss his wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill,
And fast on Fridays — if he will; 20
Toast Church and Queen, explain the news,
Talk with Churchwardens about pews,
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Doctor S — t.
Paraphrases from Chaucer
January and May; or, The Merchant’s Tale
Pope says that this ‘translation’ was done at sixteen or seventeen years of age. It was first published, with the Pastorals, in 1709, in Tonson’s sixth Miscellany. Eventually Pope grouped the Chaucer imitations with Eloisa to Abelard, the translations from Ovid and Statius and the brief Imitations of English Poets. To this collection be prefixed this Advertisement: —
‘The following Translations were selected from many others done by the Author in his youth; for the most part indeed but a sort of Exercises, while he was improving himself in the Languages, and carried by his early bent to Poetry to perform them rather in Verse than Prose. Mr. Dryden’s Fables came out about that time, which occasioned the Translations from Chaucer. They were first separately printed in Miscellanies by J. Tonson and B. Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English Authors, which are added at the end, were done as early, some of them at fourteen or fifteen years old; but having also got into Miscellanies, we have put them here together to complete this Juvenile Volume.’
Warburton asserts that Pope did not intend to include this group of poems in the final edition of his works.
THERE liv’d in Lombardy, as authors write,
In days of old, a wise and worthy Knight;
Of gentle manners, as of gen’rous race,
Blest with much sense, more riches, and some grace:
Yet, led astray by Venus’ soft delights, 5
He scarce could rule some idle appetites:
For long ago, let priests say what they could,
Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.
But in due time, when sixty years were o’er,
He vow’d to lead this vicious life no more; 10
Whether pure holiness inspired his mind,
Or dotage turn’d his brain, is hard to find;
But his high courage prick’d him forth to wed,
And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.
This was his nightly dream, his daily care, 15
And to the heav’nly Powers his constant prayer,
Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful life
Of a kind husband and a loving wife.
These thoughts he fortified with reasons still
(For none want reasons to confirm their will). 20
Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,
That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears
Who wisely weds in his maturer years.
Then let him choose a damsel young and fair, 25
To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
To soothe his cares, and, free from noise and strife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more: 30
Unaw’d by precepts, human or divine,
Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join;
Nor know to make the present blessing last,
To hope the future, or esteem the past;
But vainly boast the joys they never tried, 35
And find divulged the secrets they would hide.
The married man may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and Heav’n to please;
And pass his inoffensive hours away,
In bliss all night, and innocence all day: 40
Tho’ fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?
Some wicked Wits have libell’d all the Fair.
With matchless impudence they style a wife 45
The dear-bought curse and lawful plague of life,
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,
A night-invasion, and a midday-devil.
Let not the wise these sland’rous words regard,
But curse the bones of ev’ry lying bard. 50
All other goods by Fortune’s hand are giv’n,
A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav’n.
Vain Fortune’s favours, never at a stay,
Like empty shadows pass and glide away;
One solid comfort, our eternal wife, 55
Abundantly supplies us all our life:
This blessing lasts (if those who try say true)
As long as heart can wish — and longer too.
Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possess’d,
Alone, and ev’n in Paradise unbless’d, 60
With mournful looks the blissful scene survey’d,
And wander’d in the solitary shade.
The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow’d
Woman, the last, the best reserv’d of God.
A Wife! ah gentle Deities! can he 65
That has a wife e’er feel adversity?
Would men but follow what the sex advise,
All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.
‘T was by Rebecca’s aid that Jacob won
His father’s blessing from an elder son: 70
Abusive Nabal ow’d his forfeit life
To the wise conduct of a prudent wife:
Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
Preserv’d the Jews, and slew th’ Assyrian foe:
At Hester’s suit the persecuting sword 75
Was sheath’d, and Israel liv’d to bless the Lord.
These weighty motives January the sage
Maturely ponder’d in his riper age;
And charm
’d with virtuous joys, and sober life,
Would try that Christian comfort call’d a wife. 80
His friends were summon’d on a point so nice
To pass their judgment, and to give advice;
But fix’d before, and well resolv’d was he
(As men that ask advice are wont to be).
‘My friends,’ he cried (and cast a mournful look 85
Around the room, and sigh’d before he spoke),
‘Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,
And, worn with cares, am hastening to my end.
How I have liv’d, alas! you know too well —
In worldly follies which I blush to tell; 90
But gracious Heav’n has oped my eyes at last,
With due regret I view my vices past,
And, as the precept of the church decrees,
Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.
But since by counsel all things should be done, 95
And many heads are wiser still than one;
Choose you for me, who best shall be content
When my desire’s approv’d by your consent.
‘One caution yet is needful to be told,
To guide your choice; this wife must not be old: 100
There goes a saying, and ‘t was shrewdly said,
Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
My soul abhors the tasteless dry embrace
Of a stale virgin with a winter face:
In that cold season Love but treats his guest 105
With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best.
No crafty widows shall approach my bed;
Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.
As subtle clerks by many schools are made,
Twice married dames are mistresses o’ th’ trade: 110
But young and tender virgins, ruled with ease,
We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
‘Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my sense amiss;
‘T is what concerns my soul’s eternal bliss;
Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse, 115
As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows?
Then should I live in lewd adultery,
And sink downright to Satan when I die:
Or were I curs’d with an unfruitful bed,
The righteous end were lost for which I wed; 120
To raise up seed to bless the Powers above,
And not for pleasure only, or for love.
Think not I dote; ‘t is time to take a wife,
When vig’rous blood forbids a chaster life:
Those that are blest with store of grace divine, 125
May live like saints by Heav’n’s consent and mine.
‘And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,
(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may)
My limbs are active, still I ‘m sound at heart,
And a new vigour springs in ev’ry part. 130
Think not my virtue lost, tho’ time has shed
These rev’rend honours on my hoary head:
Thus trees are crown’d with blossoms white as snow,
The vital sap then rising from below.
Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear 135
Like winter-greens, that flourish all the year.
Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand inclin’d,
Let ev’ry friend with freedom speak his mind.’
He said; the rest in diff’rent parts divide;
The knotty point was urged on either side: 140
Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim’d,
Some prais’d with wit, and some with reason blamed.
Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
Each wondrous positive and wondrous wise,
There fell between his brothers a debate: 145
Placebo this was call’d, and Justin that.
First to the knight Placebo thus begun,
(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone)
‘Such prudence, Sir, in all your words appears,
As plainly proves Experience dwells with years! 150
Yet you pursue sage Solomon’s advice,
To work by counsel when affairs are nice:
But, with the wise man’s leave, I must protest,
So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,
As still I hold your own advice the best. 155
‘Sir, I have liv’d a courtier all my days,
And studied men, their manners, and their ways;
And have observ’d this useful maxim still,
To let my betters always have their will.
‘Nay, if my lord affirm’d that black was white, 160
My word was this, “Your Honour ‘s in the right.”
Th’ assuming Wit, who deems himself so wise
As his mistaken patron to advise,
Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought;
A noble fool was never in a fault. 165
This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev’ry word
Is weigh’d with judgment, and befits a Lord:
Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man;
At least your courage all the world must praise, 170
Who dare to wed in your declining days.
Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
And let gray fools be indolently good,
Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
With rev’rend Dulness and grave Impotence.’ 175
Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
Thus with a philosophic frown began:
‘A heathen author, of the first degree,
(Who, tho’ not Faith, had Sense as well as we)
Bids us be certain our concerns to trust 180
To those of gen’rous principles and just.
The venture’s greater, I ‘ll presume to say,
To give your person, than your goods away:
And therefore, Sir, as you regard your rest,
First learn your lady’s qualities at least: 185
Whether she ‘s chaste or rampant, proud or civil,
Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
Whether an easy, fond, familiar Fool,
Or such a Wit as no man e’er can rule.
‘T is true, perfection none must hope to find 190
In all this world, much less in womankind;
But if her virtue prove the larger share,
Bless the kind Fates and think your fortune rare.
Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
Who knows too well the state you thus commend; 195
And spite of all his praises must declare,
All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
Heav’n knows I shed full many a private tear,
And sigh in silence lest the world should hear;
While all my friends applaud my blissful life, 200
And swear no mortal’s happier in a wife:
Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,
The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
But by th’ immortal Powers I feel the pain,
And he that smarts has reason to complain. 205
Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:
But at these years to venture on the Fair!
By him who made the ocean, earth, and air,
To please a wife, when her occasions call, 210
Would busy the most vig’rous of us all.
And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose,
Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
If what I speak my noble lord offend,
My tedious sermon here is at an end.’ 215
‘‘T is well, ‘t is wondrous well,’ the Knight replies,
‘Most worthy kinsman, faith, you ‘re mighty wise!
We, Sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause
To heath’nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.’
He spoke with scorn, and turn’d another way: 220
‘What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?’
‘I say,’ quoth he, ‘by Heav’n the man’s to blame,
To slander wives, and wedlock’s holy name.’
At this the council rose without delay;
Each, in his own opinion, went his way; 225
With full consent, that, all disputes appeas’d,
The Knight should marry when and where he pleas’d.
Who now but January exults with joy?
The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:
Each nymph by turns his wavering mind possess’d, 230
And reign’d the short-lived tyrant of his breast;
Whilst fancy pictured ev’ry lively part,
And each bright image wander’d o’er his heart.
Thus, in some public forum fix’d on high,
A mirror shows the figures moving by; 235
Still one by one, in swift succession, pass
The gliding shadows o’er the polish’d glass.
This lady’s charms the nicest could not blame,
But vile suspicions had aspers’d her fame;
That was with Sense, but not with Virtue blest; 240
And one had Grace that wanted all the rest.
Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,
He fix’d at last upon the youthful May.
Her faults he knew not (Love is always blind),
But every charm revolv’d within his mind: 245
Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
Her easy motion, her attractive air,
Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,
Her moving softness, and majestic grace.
Much in his prudence did our Knight rejoice, 250
And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:
Once more in haste he summon’d ev’ry friend,
And told them all their pains were at an end.
‘Heav’n, that (said he) inspired me first to wed,
Provides a consort worthy of my bed: 255
Let none oppose th’ election, since on this
Depends my quiet and my future bliss.
‘A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,
Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise;
Chaste, tho’ not rich; and, tho’ not nobly born, 260
Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.
Her will I wed, if gracious Heav’n so please,
To pass my age in sanctity and ease;
And thank the Powers, I may possess alone
The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none! 265
If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
My joys are full, my happiness is sure.
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 5
