Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can. Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius, By ratiocinations specious, Have strove to prove with great precision, With definition and division, Homo est ratione preditum ; But for my soul I cannot credit 'em; And must in spite of them maintain, That man and all his ways are vain ; Than reason, boasting mortals' pride; Deus est anima brutorum. Who ever knew an honest brute At law his neighbor prosecute, Bring action for assault and battery, Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? No politics disturb their mind; They eat their meals and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court; They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend, a foe; They never importune his Grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place; Nor draw the quill to write for Bob:* * [Sir Robert Walpole, the object of so much vituperation by Swift.] Fraught with invective they ne'er go, No judges, fiddlers, dancing masters, At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, And footmen, lords and dukes can act. Thus at the court, both great and small, Behave alike, for all ape all. EPIGRAM ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH, STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. Sure 'twas by Providence design'd, That he should be, like Cupid, blind, STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC, AND DEATH OF GENERAL WOLFE.† Amidst the clamor of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasure start. O, Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe, * [First printed in The Bee," 1759. See vol. i. p. 18.] [The Princess of Eboli, the mistress of Phillip II. of Spain, and Maugiron, the minion of Henry III. of France, had each of them lost an eye; and the famous Latin epigram, which Goldsmith has either translated or imitated, was written on them."-LORD BYRON, Works, vol. vi. p. 390.] [First printed in the "Busy Body," 1759. The alleged relationship of the Poet with this distinguished officer, produced very naturally an effort to celebrate him, after a death so honorable.] Alive, thee foe thy dreadful vigor fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes; STANZAS.* Weeping, murmuring, complaining, Myra, too sincere for feigning, Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection? THE GIFT. TO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN. Imitated from the French.t Say, cruel Iris, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, * [First printed in "The Bee," 1759.] + [First printed in "The Bee," 1759. The original is in Ménagiana, tom. iv. p. 200: ÉTRENNE À IRIS. "Pour témoignage de ma flamme, Iris, du meilleur de mon âme, Je vous donne à ce nouvel an, Non pas dentelle, ni ruban, Non pas essence, non pas pommade, Quoi donc attendez, je vou donne, Qui m'avez toujours refusé Le point si souvent proposé, Je vous donne.-Ah! le puis-je dire? Fussiez-vous cent fois plus aimable, Belle Iris, je vous donne-au diable."] |