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The learned Baron butterflies design,
list to add one monarch more; 600
More she had spoke, but yawn'd--All Nature
yawn of gods? 606
O Muse! relate, (for you can tell alone, Wits have short memories, and dunces none,) 620 Relate who first, who last, resign'd to rest ; Whose heads she partly, whose completely blest ; What charms could faction, what ambition lull, The venal quiet, and intrance the dull; Till drown'd was Sense, and Shame, and Right, and Wrong
625 sing, and hush the nations with thy song!
In vain, in vain--the all-composing hour Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the pow'r. She comes ! she comes! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old ! 630 Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick’ning stars fade off the ethereal plain; As Argus's eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest, Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest; Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, Art after Art goes out, and all is night.
640 See sculking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head !
Whose heads she partly, whose completely blest. ]
Philosophy, that lean'd on Heav'n before,
Et quamvis sopor est oculorum parte receptus,
Ovid. Met. II.
Philosophy, that reach'd the heav'ns before,
Slirinks to her hidden cause, and is no more. And this was intended as a censure of the Newtonian philosoph. For the Poet had been misied by the prejudices of foreigners, as it that philosophy hari recurred io the ocult qualities of Aristotie. 'This was the idea he received of it from a man educated much abroad, who had read every thing, but every thing superficia.it. Had his excellent Friend, Dr. A. been consulted in this matter, it is certain that so unjust a reflection had never discredited so noble a Satire. When 1 hinted to him how he had been impused upon, he changed the lines with great pleasure, into a coinpaiment (as they now stand) on that divine genies, and a satire un the folly by which he, the Poet himself, had been mislet.
END OF THE BUNCIAD,
BY THE AUTHOR, A DECLARATION.
WHEREAS certain Haberdashers of Points and Particles, being instigated by the spirit of Pride, and assum. ing to themselves the name of Critics and Restorers, have taken upon them to adulterate the common and current sense of our Glorious Ancestors, Poets of this Realm, by clipping, coining, defacing the images, mixing their own base alloy, or otherwise falsifying the same; which they publish, utter, and vend as genuine ; the said Haberdashers having no right thereto, as neither heirs, exe. cutors, administrators, assigns, or in any sort related to such Poets, to all or any of them: Now We, having carefully revised this our Dunciad, * beginning with the word's, The mighty Mother, and ending with the words buries All, containing the entire sum of One thousand seven hundred and fifty-four verses, declare every word, figure, point, and comma, of this impression to be ruthentic . and do therefore strictly enjoin and forbid any berson or persons whatsoever to erase, reverse, put between 200ks, or by any other means, directly or indirectly, change ir mangle any of them. And we do hereby earnestly exe fort all our brethren to follow this our example, which we heartily wish our great Predecessors, had heretofore.
* Read thus confidently, instead of “beginning with the words : books, and ending with the word flies," as formerly it stood: tad also, “ containing the entire sum of one thousand seven. hundred and fifty-four verses," instead of one thousand and welve lines ;" such being the initial and final words, and sucu he true and entire conieats of the Poemi.
set, as a remedy and prevention of all such abuses. Previded always, that nothing in this Declaration shall be construed to limit the lawful and undoubted right of every subject of this Realm to judge, censure, or condeniti, ir the whole, or in part, any Poem or Poet whatsoever.
Given under our hand at London, this third day of
January, in the year of our Lord one thousand
seven hundred thirty and two. Declarat' cor' me. JOHN BARBER, Mayor.
Thou art to know, Reader! that the first edition thereof, like that of Milton, was never seen by the Author, (though living and pot blind:) the editor himself confessed as much in his pretace, and no two poems were ever published in so arbitrary 3 minner. The editor of this had as boldly suppressed whele passages, yea the entire last book, as the editor of Paradise Lost added and auginented. Milton himself gave but ten books, his editor teelte; this Author gave four books, his editor only three. But we have happily done justice to both; and presume we shall live, in tres our last labor, as long as in any of our others. Bent.cz.