Volume Ii Part 66 (2/2)

And yet her father is a cloud.

We dress'd her in a gold brocade, Befitting Juno's favourite maid.

'Tis known that Socrates the wise Adored us clouds as deities: To us he made his daily prayers, As Aristophanes declares; From Jupiter took all dominion, And died defending his opinion.

By his authority 'tis plain You wors.h.i.+p other G.o.ds in vain; And from your own experience know We govern all things there below.

You follow where we please to guide; O'er all your pa.s.sions we preside, Can raise them up, or sink them down, As we think fit to smile or frown: And, just as we dispose your brain, Are witty, dull, rejoice, complain.

Compare us then to female race!

We, to whom all the G.o.ds give place!

Who better challenge your allegiance Because we dwell in higher regions.

You find the G.o.ds in Homer dwell In seas and streams, or low as h.e.l.l: Ev'n Jove, and Mercury his pimp, No higher climb than mount Olymp.

Who makes you think the clouds he pierces?

He pierce the clouds! he kiss their a--es; While we, o'er Teneriffa placed, Are loftier by a mile at least: And, when Apollo struts on Pindus, We see him from our kitchen windows; Or, to Parna.s.sus looking down, Can p.i.s.s upon his laurel crown.

Fate never form'd the G.o.ds to fly; In vehicles they mount the sky: When Jove would some fair nymph inveigle, He comes full gallop on his eagle; Though Venus be as light as air, She must have doves to draw her chair; Apollo stirs not out of door, Without his lacquer'd coach and four; And jealous Juno, ever snarling, Is drawn by peac.o.c.ks in her berlin: But we can fly where'er we please, O'er cities, rivers, hills, and seas: From east to west the world we roam, And in all climates are at home; With care provide you as we go With suns.h.i.+ne, rain, and hail, or snow.

You, when it rains, like fools, believe Jove p.i.s.ses on you through a sieve: An idle tale, 'tis no such matter; We only dip a sponge in water, Then squeeze it close between our thumbs, And shake it well, and down it comes; As you shall to your sorrow know; We'll watch your steps where'er you go; And, since we find you walk a-foot, We'll soundly souse your frieze surtout.

'Tis but by our peculiar grace, That Phoebus ever shows his face; For, when we please, we open wide Our curtains blue from side to side; And then how saucily he shows His brazen face and fiery nose; And gives himself a haughty air, As if he made the weather fair!

'Tis sung, wherever Celia treads, The violets ope their purple heads; The roses blow, the cowslip springs; 'Tis sung; but we know better things.

'Tis true, a woman on her mettle Will often p.i.s.s upon a nettle; But though we own she makes it wetter, The nettle never thrives the better; While we, by soft prolific showers, Can every spring produce you flowers.

Your poets, Chloe's beauty height'ning, Compare her radiant eyes to lightning; And yet I hope 'twill be allow'd, That lightning comes but from a cloud.

But G.o.ds like us have too much sense At poets' flights to take offence; Nor can hyperboles demean us; Each drab has been compared to Venus.

We own your verses are melodious; But such comparisons are odious.

[Observe the case--I state it thus: Though you compare your trull to us, But think how d.a.m.nably you err When you compare us clouds to her; From whence you draw such bold conclusions; But poets love profuse allusions.

And, if you now so little spare us, Who knows how soon you may compare us To Chartres, Walpole, or a king, If once we let you have your swing.

Such wicked insolence appears Offensive to all pious ears.

To flatter women by a metaphor!

What profit could you hope to get of her?

And, for her sake, turn base detractor Against your greatest benefactor.

But we shall keep revenge in store If ever you provoke us more: For, since we know you walk a-foot, We'll soundly drench your frieze surtout; Or may we never thunder throw, Nor souse to death a birth-day beau.

We own your verses are melodious; But such comparisons are odious.]

[Footnote 1: The highest point of Howth is called the Cape of Howth.-- _F._]

[Footnote 2: The Dogstar.--Hyginus, ”Astronomica.”]

[Footnote 3: Who murdered his father-in-law, and was taken into heaven and purified by Jove, but when, after he had begot the Centaurs from the cloud, he boasted of his imaginary success with Juno, Jupiter hurled him into Tartarus, where he was bound to a perpetually revolving wheel.

”Volvitur Ixion: et se sequiturque fugitque.” Ovid, ”Metam.,” iv, 460.

Tibullus tells the tale in one distich, lib. I, iii: ”Illic Junonem tentare Ixionis ausi Versantur celeri noxia membra rota.”--_W. E. B._]

PEG RADCLIFFE THE HOSTESS'S INVITATION

To the Reverend Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D. written with a design to be spoken by her on his arrival at Gla.s.snevin, Dr. Delany having complimented him with a house there. From the London and Dublin Magazine for June, 1735. The lines are probably by Delany or Sheridan.

Though the name of this place may make you to frown, Your Deans.h.i.+p is welcome to _Gla.s.snevin_ town; [1]A gla.s.s and no wine, to a man of your taste, Alas! is enough, sir, to break it in haste; Be that as it will, your presence can't fail To yield great delight in drinking our ale; Would you but vouchsafe a mug to partake, And as we can brew, believe we can bake.

The life and the pleasure we now from you hope, The famed Violante can't show on the rope; Your genius and talents outdo even Pope.

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