The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume Ii Part 4

Apollo, having thought a little, Return'd this answer to a t.i.ttle.

Though you should live like old Methusalem, I furnish hints and you shall use all 'em, You yearly sing as she grows old, You'd leave her virtues half untold.

But, to say truth, such dulness reigns, Through the whole set of Irish deans, I'm daily stunn'd with such a medley, Dean White, Dean Daniel, and Dean Smedley, That, let what dean soever come, My orders are, I'm not at home; And if your voice had not been loud, You must have pa.s.s'd among the crowd.

But now, your danger to prevent, You must apply to Mrs. Brent;[2]

For she, as priestess, knows the rites Wherein the G.o.d of earth delights.

First, nine ways looking,[3] let her stand With an old poker in her hand; Let her describe a circle round In Saunders'[4] cellar on the ground: A spade let prudent Archy[5] hold, And with discretion dig the mould.

Let Stella look with watchful eye, Rebecca,[6] Ford, and Grattans by.

Behold the bottle, where it lies With neck elated toward the skies!

The G.o.d of winds and G.o.d of fire Did to its wondrous birth conspire; And Bacchus for the poet's use Pour'd in a strong inspiring juice.

See! as you raise it from its tomb, It drags behind a s.p.a.cious womb, And in the s.p.a.cious womb contains A sov'reign med'cine for the brains.

You'll find it soon, if fate consents; If not, a thousand Mrs. Brents, Ten thousand Archys, arm'd with spades, May dig in vain to Pluto's shades.

From thence a plenteous draught infuse, And boldly then invoke the Muse; But first let Robert[7] on his knees With caution drain it from the lees; The Muse will at your call appear, With Stella's praise to crown the year.

[Footnote 1: The Poet Laureate.]

[Footnote 2: "Mrs. Brent, my housekeeper, famous in print for digging out the great bottle." "I dine _tete a tete_ five days a week with my old presbyterian housekeeper whom I call Sir Robert." Swift to Pope. Pope's "Works," edit. Elwin and Courthope, vii, pp. 145, 212.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: She had a cast in her eyes.--_Swift._]

[Footnote 4: The butler.]

[Footnote 5: The footman.]

[Footnote 6: Mrs. Dingley.]

[Footnote 7: The valet.]

STELLA AT WOOD PARK, A HOUSE OF CHARLES FORD, ESQ., NEAR DUBLIN 1723

--cuic.u.mque nocere volebat, Vestimenta dabat pretiosa.[1]

Don Carlos, in a merry spight, Did Stella to his house invite: He entertain'd her half a year With generous wines and costly cheer.

Don Carlos made her chief director, That she might o'er the servants hector.

In half a week the dame grew nice, Got all things at the highest price: Now at the table head she sits, Presented with the nicest bits: She look'd on partridges with scorn, Except they tasted of the corn: A haunch of ven'son made her sweat, Unless it had the right _fumette_.

Don Carlos earnestly would beg, "Dear Madam, try this pigeon's leg;"

Was happy, when he could prevail To make her only touch a quail.

Through candle-light she view'd the wine, To see that ev'ry gla.s.s was fine.

At last, grown prouder than the devil With feeding high, and treatment civil, Don Carlos now began to find His malice work as he design'd.

The winter sky began to frown: Poor Stella must pack off to town; From purling streams and fountains bubbling, To Liffey's stinking tide in Dublin: From wholesome exercise and air To sossing in an easy-chair: From stomach sharp, and hearty feeding, To piddle[2] like a lady breeding: From ruling there the household singly.

To be directed here by Dingley:[3]

From every day a lordly banquet, To half a joint, and G.o.d be thank it: From every meal Pontac in plenty, To half a pint one day in twenty: From Ford attending at her call, To visits of Archdeacon Wall: From Ford, who thinks of nothing mean, To the poor doings of the Dean: From growing richer with good cheer, To running out by starving here.

But now arrives the dismal day; She must return to Ormond Quay.[4]

The coachman stopt; she look'd, and swore The rascal had mistook the door: At coming in, you saw her stoop; The entry brush'd against her hoop: Each moment rising in her airs, She curst the narrow winding stairs: Began a thousand faults to spy; The ceiling hardly six feet high; The s.m.u.tty wainscot full of cracks: And half the chairs with broken backs: Her quarter's out at Lady-day; She vows she will no longer stay In lodgings like a poor Grisette, While there are houses to be let.

Howe'er, to keep her spirits up, She sent for company to sup: When all the while you might remark, She strove in vain to ape Wood Park.

Two bottles call'd for, (half her store, The cupboard could contain but four:) A supper worthy of herself, Five nothings in five plates of delf.

Thus for a week the farce went on; When, all her country savings gone, She fell into her former scene, Small beer, a herring, and the Dean.

Thus far in jest: though now, I fear, You think my jesting too severe; But poets, when a hint is new, Regard not whether false or true: Yet raillery gives no offence, Where truth has not the least pretence; Nor can be more securely placed Than on a nymph of Stella's taste.

I must confess your wine and vittle I was too hard upon a little: Your table neat, your linen fine; And, though in miniature, you s.h.i.+ne: Yet, when you sigh to leave Wood Park, The scene, the welcome, and the spark, To languish in this odious town, And pull your haughty stomach down, We think you quite mistake the case, The virtue lies not in the place: For though my raillery were true, A cottage is Wood Park with you.

[Footnote 1: Horat., "Epist.," i, 18, 31.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: In its proper sense--to pick at table, to feed squeamishly.

"With entremets to piddle with at hand."

BYRON, _Don Juan.--W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: The constant companion of Stella.]

[Footnote 4: Where the two ladies lodged.]

A NEW YEAR'S GIFT FOR BEC [1]

1723-4

Returning Ja.n.u.s[2] now prepares, For Bec, a new supply of cares, Sent in a bag to Dr. Swift, Who thus displays the new-year's gift.

First, this large parcel brings you tidings Of our good Dean's eternal chidings; Of Nelly's pertness, Robin's leasings, And Sheridan's perpetual teazings.

This box is cramm'd on every side With Stella's magisterial pride.

Behold a cage with sparrows fill'd, First to be fondled, then be kill'd.

Now to this hamper I invite you, With six imagined cares to fright you.

Here in this bundle Ja.n.u.s sends Concerns by thousands for your friends.

And here's a pair of leathern pokes, To hold your cares for other folks.

Here from this barrel you may broach A peck of troubles for a coach.

This ball of wax your ears will darken, Still to be curious, never hearken.

Lest you the town may have less trouble in Bring all your Quilca's [3] cares to Dublin, For which he sends this empty sack; And so take all upon your back.

[Footnote 1: Mrs. Rebecca Dingley, Stella's friend and companion.]

[Footnote 2: The sun G.o.d represented with two faces, one in front, and one behind, to whom the new year was sacred.--_W. E. B_.]

[Footnote 3: Country-house of Dr. Sheridan.]

DINGLEY AND BRENT[1]

A SONG

To the tune of "Ye Commons and Peers."

Dingley and Brent, Wherever they went, Ne'er minded a word that was spoken; Whatever was said, They ne'er troubled their head, But laugh'd at their own silly joking.