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THAT the Reader may fee at one view, the nature, conduct, and coherence of this Poem, how perfect it was in three books, and how much it fuffered, and was disfigured, by a fourth book, and by a new hero, the Dunciad is here added, as it stood in the quarto edition, 1728.

THE

DUNCIAD:

то

DR. JONATHAN SWIFT.

ARGUMENT to Book the FIRST.

THE Propofition, the Invocation, and the Infcription. Then the Original of the great Empire of Dulness, and cause of the continuance thereof. The beloved feat of the Goddess is defcribed, with her chief attendants and officers, her functions, operations, and effects. Then the poem haftes into the midft of things, prefenting her on the evening of a Lord Mayor's day, revolving the long fucceffion of her fons, and the glories paft and to come. She fixes her eye on Tibbald to be the inflrument of that great event which is the Subject of the poem. He is defcribed pensive in his study, giving up the cause, and apprehending the period of her empire from the old age of the present monarch Settle: Wherefore debating whether to betake himself to Law or Politicks, he raises an altar of proper books, and (making firft his folemn prayer and declaration) purposes thereon to facrifice all his unfuccessful writings. As the pile is kindled, the Goddess beholding the flame from her

VOL. V.

Seat,

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feat, flies in perfon and puts it out, by cafting upon it the poem of Thule. She forthwith reveals herself to him, tranSports him to her Temple, unfolds her arts, and initiates him into her myfteries; then announcing the death of Settle that night, anoints, and proclaims him Succeffor.

BOOK I,

BOOKS
ooks and the Man I fing, the first who brings
The Smithfield Mufes to the Ear of Kings.
Say great Patricians! (fince yourselves inspire
Thefe wond'rous works: fo Jove and Fate require)
Say from what cause, in vain decry'd and curst,
Still Dunce the fecond reigns like Dunce the first.
In eldest time, e'er mortals writ or read,
E'er Pallas iffu'd from the Thund'rer's head,
Dulness o'er all poffefs'd her antient right,
Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:
Fate in their dotage this fair ideot gave,
Grofs as her fire, and as her mother grave,
Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,
She rul'd in native Anarchy, the mind.

Still her old empire to confirm, fhe tries,
For born a Goddefs, Dulnefs never dies.

O THOU! whatever Title please thine ear, Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver, Whether thou chufe Cervantes' ferious air, Or laugh and shake in Rab'lais easy Chair, Or praise the Court, or magnify Mankind, Or thy griev❜d Country's copper chains unbind; From thy Bæotia tho' Her Pow'r retires, Grieve not, my SWIFT at ought our realm acquires,

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