And, nobly conscious, princes are but things REMARKS. [nods: Ver. 606. What mortal can resist the yawn of gods?] This verse is truly Homerical; as is the conclusion of the action, where the great mother composes all, in the same manner as Minerva at the period of the Odyssey.It may, indeed, seem a very singular epitasis of a poem, to end as this does, with a great yawn; but we must consider it as the yawn of a god, and of powerful effects. It is not out of nature, most long and grave counsels concluding in this very manner: nor without authority, the incom parable Spenser having ended one of the most considerable of his works with a roar; but then it is the roar of a lion, the effects whereof are described as the catastrophe of the poem. Ver. 607. Churches and chapels, &c.] The progress of the yawn is judicious, natural, and worthy to be noted. First it seized the churches and chapels ; then catcheth the schools, where, though the boys be unwilling to sleep, the masters are not: Next Westminster-hall, much more hard, indeed, to subdue, and not totally put to silence even by the goddess. Then the convocation, which though extremely desirous to speak, yet cannot. Even the house of commons, justly called the sense of the nation, is lost (that is to say suspended) during the yawn; (far be it from our author to suggest it could be lost any longer!) but it spreadeth at large over all the rest of the kingdom, to such a degree, that Palinurus himself (though as incapable of sleeping as Then catch'd the schools; the hall scarce kept awake; The convocation gap'd, but could not speak : 610 The vapour mild o'er each committee crept; And chiefless armies doz'd out the campaign! REMARKS. 620 Jupiter) yet noddeth for a moment; the effect of which, though ever so momentary, could not but cause some relaxation for the time, in all public affairs. SCRIBL. - Ver. 610. The convocation gaped, but could not speak;] Implying a great desire so to do, as the learned scholiast on the place rightly observes.-Therefore beware, reader, lest thou take this gape for a yawn, which is attended with no desire but to go to rest, by no means the disposition of the convocation; whose melancholy case in short is this: she was, as is reported, infected with the general influence of the goddess; and while she was yawning carelessly at her ease, a wanton courtier took her at advantage, and in the very nick clapped a gag into her chops. Well, therefore, may we know her meaning by her gaping; and this distressful posture our poet here describes, just as she stands at this day, a vsad example of the effects of Dulness and Malice unchecked and despised. BENTL. Ver. 615---618. These verses were written many years ago, and may be found in the state poems of that time. So that Scriblerus is mistaken, or whoever else have imagined this poem of a fresher date. Relate who first, who last resign'd to rest; Till drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and wrong-- O sing, and hush the nations with thy song! In vain, in vain, the all-composing hour Resistless falls: the muse obeys the power. She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old! REMARKS. 630 Ver. 620. Wits have short mem'ries,] This seems to be the reason why the poets, where they give us a catalogue, constantly call for help on the muses, who, as the daughters of memory, are obliged not to forget any thing. So Homer, Iliad II. Πληθὺν δ ̓ οὐκ ἄν μυθήσομαι οὐδ ̓ ὀνομήνω, And Virgil, Æn. VII. Et meministis enim, divæ, et memorare potestis: But our poet had yet another reason for putting this task upon the muse, that, all besides being asleep, SCRIBL. she only could relate what passed. Ver. 624. The venal quiet, and, &c.] It were a problem worthy the solution of Mr. Ralph and his patron, who had lights that we know nothing of,-which required the greatest effort of our goddess's power, to entrance the dull, or to quiet the venal. For though the venal may be more unruly than the dull, yet, on the other hand, it demands a much greater expense of her virtue to entrance than barely to quiet. SCRIBL. Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay, REMARKS. 640 Ver. 629. She comes! she comes! &c.] Here the muse, like Jove's eagle, after a sudden stoop at ignoble game, soareth again to the skies. As prophecy hath ever been one of the chief provinces of poesy, our poet here foretells from what we feel, what we are to fear; and, in the style of other prophets, hath used the future tense for the preterit; since what he says shall be, is already to be seen, in the writings of some even of our most adored authors, in divinity, philosophy, physics, metaphysics, &c. who are too good, indeed, to be named in such company. Ibid. The sable throne behold] The sable thrones of Night and Chaos, here represented as advancing to extinguish the light of the sciences, in the first place, blot out the colours of fancy, and damp the fire of wit, before they proceed to their work. Ver. 641. Truth to her old cavern fled.] Alluding to the saying of Democritus, that Truth lay at the bottom of a deep well, from whence he had drawn her:' though Butler says, 'He first, put her in, before he drew her out.' Physic of metaphysic begs defence, In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die, Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine: REMARKS. 650 Ver. 649. Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,] Blushing as well at the memory of the past overflow of Dulness, when the barbarous learning of so many ages was wholly employed in corrupting the simplicity, and defiling the purity of religion, as at the view of these her false supports in the present; of which it would be endless to recount the particulars. However, amidst the extinction of all other lights, she is said only to withdraw hers! as hers alone in its own nature is unextinguishable and eternal. Ver. 650. And unawares morality expires.] It appears from hence that our poet was of very different sentiments from the author of the Characteristics, who has written a formal treatise on virtue, to prove it not only real but durable, without the support of religion. The word unawares alludes to the confidence of those men, who suppose that morality would flourish best without it, and consequently to the surprise such would be in (if any such there are) who, indeed, love virtue, and yet do all they can to root out the religion of their country. THE END. Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge, Surry. |