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All at a stand? you see great changes?
Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges:
There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis
(So Monomotapa calls monkeys :)
On either bank, from bough to bough,
They meet and chat (as we may now);
Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug:
They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug:
And, just as chance or whim provoke them,
They either bite their friends, or stroke them.
There have I seen some active prig,
To show his parts, bestride a twig;
Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire!
Not that he's wiser, but he's higher :
All long to try the vent'rous thing
(For pow'r is but to have one's swing.)
From side to side he springs, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns.
Thus, as in giddy freaks he bounces,
Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces!
Down the swift stream the wretch is borne!
Never, ah never, to return!

Zds! what a fall had our dear brother!
"Morbleu!" cries one; and " damme," t'other,
The nation gives a gen'ral screech;
None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
Each trembles for the public weal,

And for a while forgets to steal.

A while all eyes, intent and steady, Pursue him whirling down the eddy: But, out of mind when out of view, Some other mounts the twig anew And bus'ness, on each monkey shore, Runs the same track it ran before.

AY AND NO.

A FABLE.

IN fable all things hold discourse;
Then words, no doubt, must talk of course.
Once on a time, near Channel-row, *
Two hostile adverbs, Ay and No,
Were hastening to the field of fight,
And front to front stood opposite.
Before each gen'ral join'd the van,
Ay, the more courteous knight, began.
Stop, peevish particle, beware!
I'm told you are not such a bear,
But sometimes yield, when offer'd fair.
Suffer yon folks a while to tattle;
'Tis we who must decide the battle.
Whene'er we war on yonder stage
With various fate and equal rage,
The nation trembles at each blow,
That No gives Ay, and Ay gives No:
Yet, in expensive, long contention,
We gain nor office, grant, or pension:
Why then should kinsfolk quarrel thus ?
(For two of you make one of us. †)
To some wise statesman let us go,
Where each his proper use may know:

He may admit two such commanders,

And make those wait who serv'd in Flanders.
Let's quarter on a great man's tongue,
A treasury lord, not master Young.

*A dirty street, near the parliament-house, Westminster.-II. + In English, two negatives make an affirmative.-H.

Obsequious at his high command,
Ay shall march forth to tax the land.
Impeachments No can best resist,
And Ay support the Civil List;
Ay, quick as Cæsar wins the day;
And No, like Fabius, by delay.
Sometimes in mutual sly disguise,
Let Ayes seem Noes, and Noes seem Ayes;
Ayes be in courts denials meant.
And Noes in bishops give consent.
Thus Ay propos'd-and for reply
No for the first time answer'd Ay.
They parted with a thousand kisses,
And fight e'er since for pay, like Swisses.

THE

LAMENTATION OF GLUMDAL CLITCH

FOR

THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG,

A PASTORAL.

[Pope writes to Swift, that the bookseller wished to print these following pieces before the second edition of Gulliver's Travels, but he refused his permission, as not liking them much. He mentions also commendatory verses from a horse to Gulliver, which do not appear.-See his letter to Swift, 8th March 1726-7.]

Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care,
She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair;

No British miss sincerer grief has known,
Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown.
She furl'd her sampler, and haul'd in her thread,
And stuck her needle into Grildrig's bed;
Then spread her hands, and with a bounce let fall
Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall.
In peals of thunder now she roars, and now,
She gently whimpers like a lowing cow :
Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears:
Her locks dishevell'd and her flood of tears,
Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain,
When from the thatch drips fast a show'r of rain.
In vain she search'd each cranny of the house,
Each gaping chink, impervious to a mouse.
"Was it for this (she cried) with daily care
Within thy reach I set the vinegar,

And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide,

While

pepper-water worms thy bait supplied; Where twin'd the silver eel around thy hook, And all the little monsters of the brook!

Sure in that lake he dropt; my Grilly's drown'd !" She dragg'd the cruet, but no Grildrig found.

“Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast! But little creatures enterprise the most. Trembling I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw, Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at taw, Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew; Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you!

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Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth? Who from a page can never learn the truth? Vers'd in court tricks, the money-loving boy To some lord's daughter sold the living toy, Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, As children tear the wings of flies away. From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam, Ah never will return, or bring thee home.

13

But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind?
How then thy fairy footsteps can I find?
Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone
In the green thicket of a mossy stone;
Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slipp'ry round,
Perhaps, all maim'd, lie grov'ling on the ground?
Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose,
Or, sunk, within the peach's down, repose?
Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread,
Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head,

O show me, Flora, 'midst those sweets, the flow'r Where sleeps my Grildrig in his fragrant bow'r! "But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves

On little females and on little loves;

Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse,
The baby playthings that adorn thy house,
Doors, windows, chimnies, and the spacious rooms,
Equal in size to cells of honeycombs:

Hast thou for these now ventur'd from the shore,
Thy bark a bean-shell, and a straw thine oar?
Or in thy box now bounding on the main,
Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again?
And shall I set thee on my hand no more,
To see thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er
My spacious palm; of stature scarce a span,
Mimic the actions of a real man?

No more behold thee turn my watch's key,
As seamen at a capstan anchors weigh?
How wert thou wont to walk with cautious tread,
A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head!
How chase the mite that bore thy cheese away,
And keep the rolling maggot at a bay !"

She said; but broken accents stopt her voice,
Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noise:
She sobb'd a storm, and wip'd her flowing eyes,
Which seem'd like two broad suns in misty skies.

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