Swift, Jonathan Poems

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And swagger while the coast is clear:
But should a lordly pike appear,
Away you see the varlet scud,
Or hide his coward snout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dares not venture to approach;
Yet still has impudence to rise,
And, like Domitian,[2] leap at flies.
[Footnote 1: Mr. Faulkner, for printing the �Proposal for the better
Regulation and Improvement of Quadrille.�]
[Footnote 2: �Inter initia principatus cotidie secretum sibi horarum
sumere solebat, nec quicquam amplius quam muscas captare ac stilo
praeacuto configere; ut cuidam interroganti, essetne quis intus cum
Caesare, non absurde responsum sit a Vibio Crispo, ne muscam quidem�
ON A PRINTER'S[1] BEING SENT TO NEWGATE 266
Poems (Volume II.)
(Suet. 3). W. E. B.]
A VINDICATION OF THE LIBEL;
OR, A NEW BALLAD, WRITTEN BY A SHOE-BOY, ON AN ATTORNEY
WHO WAS FORMERLY A SHOE-BOY
�Qui color ater erat, nunc est contrarius atro.�[1]
WITH singing of ballads, and crying of news,
With whitening of buckles, and blacking of shoes,
Did Hartley set out, both shoeless and shirtless,
And moneyless too, but not very dirtless;
Two pence he had gotten by begging, that's all;
One bought him a brush, and one a black ball;
For clouts at a loss he could not be much,
The clothes on his back as being but such;
Thus vamp'd and accoutred, with clouts, ball, and brush,
He gallantly ventured his fortune to push:
Vespasian[2] thus, being bespatter'd with dirt,
Was omen'd to be Rome's emperor for't.
But as a wise fiddler is noted, you know,
To have a good couple of strings to one bow;
So Hartley[3] judiciously thought it too little,
To live by the sweat of his hands and his spittle:
He finds out another profession as fit,
And straight he becomes a retailer of wit.
One day he cried �Murders, and songs, and great news!�
Another as loudly �Here blacken your shoes!�
At Domvile's[4] full often he fed upon bits,
For winding of jacks up, and turning of spits;
Lick'd all the plates round, had many a grubbing,
And now and then got from the cook-maid a drubbing;
Such bastings effect upon him could have none:
The dog will be patient that's struck with a bone.
Sir Thomas, observing this Hartley withal
So expert and so active at brushes and ball,
Was moved with compassion, and thought it a pity
A youth should be lost, that had been so witty:
Without more ado, he vamps up my spark,
And now we'll suppose him an eminent clerk!
Suppose him an adept in all the degrees
Of scribbling cum dasho, and hooking of fees;
Suppose him a miser, attorney, per bill,
Suppose him a courtier suppose what you will
Yet, would you believe, though I swore by the Bible,
That he took up two news-boys for crying the libel?
A VINDICATION OF THE LIBEL; OR, A NEW BALLAD, WRITTEN BY A SHOE-BOY, ON AN ATTORNEY W
267
Poems (Volume II.)
[Footnote 1: Variation from Ovid, �Met.,� ii, 541:
�Qui color albus erat, nunc est contrarius albo.� W. E. B.]
[Footnote 2: So in Hudibras, Pt. II, Canto II:
�Vespasian being dawb'd with Durt,
Was destin'd to the Empire for't
And from a Scavinger did come
To be a mighty Prince in Rome.�]
[Footnote 3: Squire Hartley Hutcheson, �that zealous prosecutor of
hawkers and libels,� who signed Faulkner's committal to prison. See
�Prose Works,� vii, 234. W. E. B.]
[Footnote 4: Sir T. Domvile, patentee of the Hanaper office. F. ]
A FRIENDLY APOLOGY FOR A CERTAIN JUSTICE OF PEACE
BY WAY OF DEFENCE OF HARTLEY HUTCHESON, ESQ.
BY JAMES BLACK-WELL, OPERATOR FOR THE FEET
But he by bawling news about,
And aptly using brush and clout,
A justice of the peace became,
To punish rogues who do the same.
I sing the man of courage tried,
O'errun with ignorance and pride,
Who boldly hunted out disgrace
With canker'd mind, and hideous face;
The first who made (let none deny it)
The libel-vending rogues be quiet.
The fact was glorious, we must own,
For Hartley was before unknown,
Contemn'd I mean; for who would chuse
So vile a subject for the Muse?
'Twas once the noblest of his wishes
To fill his paunch with scraps from dishes,
For which he'd parch before the grate,
A FRIENDLY APOLOGY FOR A CERTAIN JUSTICE OF PEACE BY WAY OF DEFENCE OF HARTLEY HU
268
Poems (Volume II.)
Or wind the jack's slow-rising weight,
(Such toils as best his talents fit,)
Or polish shoes, or turn the spit;
But, unexpectedly grown rich in
Squire Domvile's family and kitchen,
He pants to eternize his name,
And takes the dirty road to fame;
Believes that persecuting wit
Will prove the surest way to it;
So with a colonel[1] at his back,
The Libel feels his first attack;
He calls it a seditious paper,
Writ by another patriot Drapier;
Then raves and blunders nonsense thicker
Than alderman o'ercharged with liquor:
And all this with design, no doubt,
To hear his praises hawk'd about;
To send his name through every street,
Which erst he roam'd with dirty feet;
Well pleased to live in future times,
Though but in keen satiric rhymes.
So, Ajax, who, for aught we know,
Was justice many years ago,
And minding then no earthly things,
But killing libellers of kings;
Or if he wanted work to do,
To run a bawling news-boy through;
Yet he, when wrapp'd up in a cloud,
Entreated father Jove aloud,
Only in light to show his face,
Though it might tend to his disgrace.
And so the Ephesian villain [2] fired
The temple which the world admired,
Contemning death, despising shame,
To gain an ever-odious name.
[Footnote 1: Colonel Ker, a Scotchman, lieutenant-colonel to Lord
Harrington's regiment of dragoons, who made a news-boy evidence against
The printer. F.]
[Footnote 2: Herostratus, who set fire to the Temple of Artemis at
Ephesus, 356 B.C. W. E. B.]
A FRIENDLY APOLOGY FOR A CERTAIN JUSTICE OF PEACE BY WAY OF DEFENCE OF HARTLEY HU
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Poems (Volume II.)
AY AND NO
A TALE FROM DUBLIN.[1] WRITTEN IN 1737
At Dublin's high feast sat Primate and Dean,
Both dress'd like divines, with band and face clean:
Quoth Hugh of Armagh, �The mob is grown bold.�
�Ay, ay,� quoth the Dean, �the cause is old gold.�
�No, no,� quoth the Primate, �if causes we sift,
This mischief arises from witty Dean Swift.�
The smart one replied, �There's no wit in the case;
And nothing of that ever troubled your grace.
Though with your state sieve your own notions you split,
A Boulter by name is no bolter of wit.
It's matter of weight, and a mere money job;
But the lower the coin the higher the mob.
Go tell your friend Bob and the other great folk,
That sinking the coin is a dangerous joke.
The Irish dear joys have enough common sense,
To treat gold reduced like Wood's copper pence.
It is a pity a prelate should die without law;
But if I say the word take care of Armagh!�
[Footnote 1: In 1737, the gold coin had sunk in current value to the
amount of 6_d. in each guinea, which made it the interest of the Irish
dealers to send over their balances in silver. To bring the value of the
precious metals nearer to a par, the Primate, Boulter, who was chiefly
trusted by the British Government in the administration of Ireland,
published a proclamation reducing the value of the gold coin threepence
in each guinea. This scheme was keenly opposed by Swift; and such was the
clamour excited against the archbishop, that his house was obliged to be
guarded by soldiers. The two following poems relate to this controversy,
which was, for the time it lasted, nearly as warm as that about Wood's
halfpence. The first is said to be the paraphrase of a conversation which
actually passed between Swift and the archbishop. The latter charged the
Dean with inflaming the mob, �I inflame them?� retorted Swift, �were I to
lift but a finger, they would tear you to pieces.� Scott.]
A BALLAD
Patrick astore,[1] what news upon the town?
AY AND NO 270
Poems (Volume II.)
By my soul there's bad news, for the gold she was pull'd down,
The gold she was pull'd down, of that I'm very sure,
For I saw'd them reading upon the towlsel[2] doore.
Sing, och, och, hoh, hoh.[3]
Arrah! who was him reading? 'twas jauntleman in ruffles,
And Patrick's bell she was ringing all in muffles; [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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