Who bade the chattering Parrot cry
Good-morrow to each passer-by?
What wondrous influence could teach
The Pie to mimic human speech?
This magic power that gives at once
Words to the dumb, wit to the dunce-
This mighty master shall I tell ye?
What is it but-an empty belly?
Place but the pelf before their eyes,
Our parrot-bards and rhyming pies,
Lured by the dazzling hope of gain,
Shall pour so ravishing a strain,
You'ld swear you heard Apollo sing
With all the Muses in a ring!
Quis expedivit Psittaco suum Xaige, Picasque docuit verba nostra conari ? Magister artis ingenîque largitor, Venter, negatas artifex sequi voces. Quod si dolosi spes refulserit nummi, Corvos poëtas et poëtridas picas Cantare credas Pegaseïum nectar!
How vain is Man! his every thought how vain! "Tush, who will read this moralizing strain?" Speak'st thou to me, and dost thou ask me, who?
"Troth, none-or (next to none) but one or two. "Why, this is vile and pitiful indeed!
"Think what disgrace-to write what none will read !" Say rather, honour,-their contempt to raise
Whose praise is scandal, and whose scandal praise.
What if Polydamas should rate me low,
And Trojan dames prefer a Labeo ?
Is this disgraceful? No-let bustling Rome
Poise the false beam; but look thou still at home:
There scan thy merit, howsoe'er she rail;
There trim the balance and adjust the scale :
Heed not her sickly taste and judgment blind,
Nor seek but in thyself, thyself to find.
For who at Rome is not-Ah! might I say-
And sure, when grey-beards are the theme, I may :
OCURAS hominum! o quantum est in rebus inane !
¶ Quis leget hæc? ¶ Mîn' tu istud ais? nemo, hercule, nemo; Vel duo vel nemo. Turpe et miserabile! ¶ Quare?
Ne mihi Polydamas et Troïades Labeonem
Prætulerint?-Nuga! non, si quid turbida Roma
Elevet, accedas, examenve improbum in illa
Castiges trutina; nec te quæsiveris extra.
Nam Romæ quis non-Ah! si fas dicere ;—sed fas
Tunc cum ad canitiem et nostrum istud vivere triste
When grave-air'd Folly stares me in the face,
And nuts thrown by to lighter toys give place,
When with tutorial sternness we endeavour
To play the fool,-then, then indulge me.
I cannot help it; Humour, take thy fill!
My spleen o'erflows, and laugh I must and will.
Immured within their closets, all compose
(This in poetic numbers, that in prose)
Something so vastly grand that, when they spout,
Their well-breath'd lungs can hardly heave it out.
At length this fulsome fustian you recite,
With spruce-comb'd hair and gown of glossy-white! 30
Throned in the lofty desk you take your stand,
A birth-day onyx glittering on your hand:
With liquid gargles first (that every note
May softly flow) you rince the pliant throat;
Then pausing oft, upon the standers by
Fling round the luscious leer and languid eye.
There many a high-born Titus may be view'd,
Whose faultering tongue, short breath, and gestures lewd,
Aspexi, et nucibus facimus quæcunque relictis :
Cum sapimus patruos, tunc, tunc ignoscite. ¶ Nolo,
Quid faciam?-sed sum petulanti splene cachinno.
Scribimus inclusi (numeros ille, hic pede liber)
Grande aliquid, quod pulmo animæ prælargus anhelet.
Scilicet hæc populo, pexusque togaque recenti
Et natalitia tandem cum Sardonyche albus,
Sede leges celsa, liquido cum plasmate guttur
Mobile collueris, patranti fractus ocello.
Hic neque more probo videas neque voce serena
Ingentes trepidare Titos, cum carmina lumbum
Speak how your tickling rhymes, like amorous spells,
Wake slumbering Lust within her secret cells.
And is it you, grey wretch, opprest with years,
Who pimp and pander thus for others' ears?
What is your aim? what, I would gladly learn,
But that their praise may soothe your ears in turn ?
Till surfeited you cry, with bashful air,
“Oh, spare my blushes! oh, in mercy spare!"
"But what," you say, "is learning while it lurks
"Unseen, or what is leaven 'till it works?
"Wit's a wild fig-tree that takes root in vain,
"Unless it rive the cerements of the brain:
"This furrow'd brow, this sallow cheek behold!-"
Heavens, what a world is this! must all be told
That you're a genius, truly, and a poet?
Is knowledge nothing-worth, 'till others know it?
"But oh! how sweet the pointing hand to see,
"And hear the passing whisper-That is he !
"Then, is it nothing to be made," you ask,
"The frizzle-pated Lordling's daily task?
Intrant, et tremulo scalpuntur ubi intima versu.
Tun', vetule, auriculis alienis colligis escas?-
Auriculis, quibus et dicas, cute perditus, Ohe!
¶ Quo didicisse, nisi hoc fermentum, et quæ semel intus Innata est, rupto jecore exierit caprificus?"
En pallor seniumque! O mores! usque adeone
Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter?
At pulchrum est digito monstrari, et dicier, Hic est!
Ten' cirratorum centum dictata fuisse
"See, on soft couches Rome's great sons reclined,
"When to the feast the rich repast of mind
"Succeeds, and Bacchus crowns the sparkling bowl,
"Call for the songs divine that lift the soul."
Then starts up one, around whose shoulders thrown
Trails on the floor an Hyacinthine gown,
And pours, with whining tone and snuffling nose,
Hypsipyle's or Phyllis' love-lorn woes,
Or some such tale by whimpering poets sung,
And trips each word upon the lisping tongue.
The guests lift up their hands with wild amaze,
And pay the customary debt of praise :-
Shall not the ashes of that poet rest?
Shall not, the turf lie lighter on his breast?
The herd of flatterers catch the pleasing sound,
And hark! the thunder of applause goes round :-
From his blest urn and o'er his hallow'd tomb
Say, shall not violets spring and roses bloom?
Nay, but you trespass now on common sense, "And merry-make, methinks, at truth's expense,"
Pro nihilo pendas? Ecce, inter pocula quærunt
Romulidæ saturi, quid dia poëmata narrent.
¶ Hic aliquis, cui circum hunieros hyacinthina læna est,
Rancidulum quiddam balba de nare locutus,
Phyllidas, Hypsipylas, vatum et plorabile si quid,
Eliquat, et tenero supplantat verba palato.
Assensere viri:-Nunc non cinis ille poëtæ
Felix? non levior cippus nunc imprimit ossa?
Laudant convivæ :-Nunc non e manibus illis,
Nunc non e tumulo fortunataque favilla
Nascentur violæ ? ¶ Rides (ait) et nimis uncis
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