Classic Poem

IN LONG VERSE .

A VERTUOUS , learn'd Society, of late
The pride and glory of a foreign state,
Made an agreement, on a summer's night,
To search the Moon at full by her own light;
To take a perfect invent'ry of all
Her real fortunes, or her personal,
And make a geometrical survey
Of all her lands, and how her country lay,
As accurate as that of Ireland, where
The sly surveyor's said to' have sunk a shire:
To' observe her country's climate, how 'twas planted,
And what she most abounded with, or wanted;
And draw maps of her properest situations
For settling, and erecting new plantations,
If ever the Society should incline
To' attempt so great and glorious a design:
[A task in vain, unless the German Kepler
Had found out a discovery to people her,
And stock her country with inhabitants
Of military men and Elephants:
For the' Ancients only took her for a piece
Of red-hot iron as big as Peloponnese,
Till he appear'd; for which, some write, she sent
Upon his tribe as strange a punishment.]
This was the only purpose of their meeting,
For which they chose a time and place most fitting,
When, at the full, her equal shares of light
And influence were at their greatest height.
And now the lofty telescope, the scale,
By which they venture Heav'n itself to' assail,
Was rais'd, and planted full against the Moon,
And all the rest stood ready to fall on;
Impatient who should bear away the honour
To plant an ensign, first of all, upon her
When one, who for his solid deep belief
Was chosen vertuoso then in chief,
Had been approv'd the most profound and wise
At solving all impossibilities,
With gravity advancing, to' apply
To the' optic glass his penetrating eye,
Cried out, " O strange!" then reinforc'd his sight
Against the Moon with all his art and might,
And bent the muscles of his pensive brow,
As if he meant to stare and gaze her through,
While all the rest began as much to' admire,
And, like a powder-train, from him took fire,
Surpris'd with dull amazement beforehand,
At what they would, but could not understand,
And grew impatient to discover what
The matter was they so much wonder'd at.
Quoth he, " The old inhabitants of the Moon,
Who, when the sun shines hottest about noon,
Are wont to live in cellars under ground,
Of eight miles deep, and more than eighty round,
In which at once they use to fortify
Against the sunbeams and the enemy,
Are counted borough-towns and cities there,
Because the' inhabitants are civiller
Than those rude country peasants that are found,
Like mountaineers, to live on the' upper ground,
Nam'd Privolvans, with whom the others are
Perpetually in state of open war.
And now both armies, mortally enrag'd,
Are in a fierce and bloody fight engag'd,
And many fall on both sides kill'd and slain,
As by the telescope 'tis clear and plain,
Look in it quickly then, that every one
May see his share before the battle's done."
At this a famous great philosopher,
Admir'd, and celebrated, far and near
As one of wondrous singular invention,
And equal universal comprehension;
By which he had compos'd a pedlar's jargon,
For all the world to learn, and use in bargain,
An universal canting idiom,
To understand the swinging pendulum,
And to communicate, in all designs,
With the' Eastern vertuosi Mandarines,
Applied an optic nerve, and half a nose,
To the' end and centre of the engine, close:
For he had very lately undertook
To vindicate, and publish in a book,
That men, whose native eyes are blind, or out,
May by more admirable art be brought
To see with empty holes, as well and plain
As if their eyes had been put in again.
This great man, therefore, having fix'd his sight
To' observe the bloody formidable fight,
Consider'd carefully, and then cried out,
" 'Tis true, the battle's desperately fought;
The gallant Subvolvans begin to rally,
And from their trenches valiantly sally,
To fall upon the stubborn enemy,
Who fearfully begin to rout and fly.
These paltry domineering Privolvans
Have, every summer-season, their campaigns,
And muster, like the military sons
Of Rawhead and victorious Bloodybones,
As great and numerous as soland geese
I' the' summer islands of the Orcades,
Courageously to make a dreadful stand,
And boldly face their neighbours hand to hand,
Until the peaceful, long'd-for winter's come,
And then disband, and march in triumph home,
And spend the rest of all the year in lies,
And vapouring of their unknown victories.
From the' old Arcadians they have been believ'd
To be, before the Moon herself, deriv'd;
And, when her orb was first of all created,
To be from thence, to people her, translated:
For as those people had been long reputed,
Of all the Peloponnesians the most stupid,
Whom nothing in the world could ever bring
To' endure the civil life but fiddling,
They ever since retain the antique course,
And native frenzy of their ancestors,
And always use to sing and tiddle to
Things of the most important weight they do."
While thus the vertuoso entertains
The whole assembly with the Privolvans,
Another sophist, but of less renown,
Though longer observation of the Moon,
That understood the difference of her soils,
And which produc'd the fairest genet moyles,
[But for an unpaid weekly shilling's pension
Had fin'd for wit, and judgment, and invention,]
Who, after poring tedious and hard
In the' optic engine, gave a start, and star'd,
And thus began — " A stranger sight appears
Than ever yet was seen in all the spheres;
A greater wonder, more unparallel'd
Than ever mortal tube or eye beheld;
A mighty Elephant from one of those
Two fighting armies is at length broke loose,
And with the desperate horror of the fight
Appears amaz'd, and in a dreadful fright:
Look quickly, lest the only sight of us
Should cause the startled creature to imboss.
It is a large one, and appears more great
Than ever was produc'd in Afric yet;
From which we confidently may infer,
The Moon appears to be the fruitfuller.
And since, of old, the mighty Pyrrhus brought
Those living castles first of all, 'tis thought,
Against the Roman army in the field,
It may a valid argument be held,
(The same Arcadia being but a piece,
As his dominions were, of antique Greece)
To vindicate what this illustrious person
Has made so learn'd and noble a discourse on,
And giv'n us ample satisfaction all
Of the' ancient Privolvans' original.
" That Elephants are really in the Moon,
Although our fortune had discover'd none,
Is easily made plain, and manifest,
Since from the greatest orbs, down to the least,
All other globes of stars and constellations
Have cattle in 'em of all sorts and nations,
And Heaven, like a northern Tartar's hoard,
With numerous and mighty droves is stor'd:
And if the Moon can but produce by Nature
A people of so large and vast a stature,
'Tis more than probable she should bring forth
A greater breed of beasts, too, than the earth;
As by the best accounts we have, appears
Of all our crediblest discoverers,
And that those vast and monstrous creatures there
Are not such far-fet rarities as here."
Meanwhile the' assembly now had had a sight
Of all distinct particulars o' the' fight,
And every man, with diligence and care,
Perus'd and view'd of the' Elephant his share,
Proud of his equal interest in the glory
Of so stupendous and renown'd a story;
When one, who for his fame and excellence
In heightening of words and shadowing sense,
And magnifying all he ever writ
With delicate and microscopic wit,
Had long been magnified himself no less
In foreign and domestic colleges,
Began at last (transported with the twang
Of his own elocution) thus to' harangue: —
" Most vertuous and incomparable Friends,
This great discovery fully makes amends
For all our former unsuccessful pains,
And lost expenses of our time and brains;
For by this admirable phaenomenon,
We now have gotten ground upon the Moon,
And gain'd a pass to' engage and hold dispute
With all the other planets that stand out,
And carry on this brave and vertuous war
Home to the door of the' obstinatest star,
And plant the' artillery of our optic tubes
Against the proudest of their magnitudes;
To stretch our future victories beyond
The uttermost of planetary ground,
And plant our warlike engines, and our ensigns,
Upon the fix'd stars' spacious dimensions,
To prove if they are other suns or not,
As some philosophers have wisely thought,
Or only windows in the' empyreum,
Through which those bright effluvias use to come
Which Archimede, so many years ago,
Durst never venture but to wish to know.
Nor is this all that we have now achiev'd,
But greater things! — henceforth to be believ'd;
And have no more our best or worst designs,
Because they 're ours, suspected for ill signs.
To' out-throw, and magnify, and to enlarge,
Shall, henceforth, be no more laid to our charge;
Nor shall our best and ablest vertuosis
Prove arguments again for coffee-houses;
[Nor little stories gain belief among
Our criticallest judges, right or wrong:]
No: shall our new-invented chariots draw
The boys to course us in 'em without law;
[Make chips of elms produce the largest trees,
Or sowing saw-dust furnish nurseries:
No more our heading darts (a swinging one!)
With butter only harden'd in the sun;
Or men that use to whistle loud enough
To' be heard by others plainly five miles off,
Cause all the rest, we own and have avow'd,
To be believ'd as desperately loud.]
Nor shall our future speculations, whether
An elder-stick will render all the leather
Of schoolboys' breeches proof against the rod,
Make all we undertake appear as odd.
This one discovery will prove enough
To take all past and future scandals off:
But since the world is so incredulous
Of all our usual scrutinies and us,
And with a constant prejudice prevents
Our best as well as worst experiments,
As if they were all destin'd to miscarry,
As well in concert tried as solitary;
And that the' assembly is uncertain when
Such great discoveries will occur again,
'Tis reas'nable we should, at least, contrive
To draw up as exact a Narrative
Of that which every man of us can swear
Our eyes themselves have plainly seen appear,
That when 'tis fit to publish the account,
We all may take our several oaths upon't."
This said, the whole assembly gave consent
To drawing up the' authentic instrument,
And, for the nation's general satisfaction,
To print and own it in their next Transaction:
But while their ablest men were drawing up
The wonderful Memoir o' th' telescope,
A member peeping in the tube by chance,
Beheld the Elephant begin to advance,
That from the west-by-north side of the Moon
To the' east-by-south was in a moment gone.
This being related, gave a sudden stop
To all their grandees had been drawing up,
And every person was amaz'd a-new,
How such a strange surprisal should be true,
Or any beast perform so great a race,
So swift and rapid, in so short a space,
Resolv'd, as suddenly, to made it good,
Or render all as fairly as they could,
And rather chose their own eyes to condemn,
Than question what they had beheld with them.
While every one was thus resolv'd, a man
Of great esteem and credit thus began:
" 'Tis strange, I grant; but who, alas! can say
What cannot be, or justly can, and may?
Especially at so hugely wide and vast
A distance as this miracle is plac'd,
Where the least error of the glass, or sight,
May render things amiss, but never right?
Nor can we try them, when they're so far off,
By any equal sublunary proof:
For who can justify that Nature there
Is tied to the same laws she acts by here;
Nor is it probable she has infus'd
Int' every species in the Moon produc'd,
The same efforts she uses to confer
Upon the very same productions here;
Since those upon the earth, of several nations,
Are found t' have such prodigious variations,
And she affects so constantly to use
Variety in every thing she does.
From hence may be inferr'd that, though I grant
We have beheld i' the' Moon an Elephant,
That Elephant may chance to differ so
From those with us upon the earth below,
Both in his bulk, as well as force and speed,
As being of a different kind and breed,
That though 'tis true our own are but slow-pac'd,
Theirs there, perhaps, may fly, or run as fast,
And yet be very Elephants, no less
Than those deriv'd from Indian families."
This said, another member of great worth,
Fam'd for the learned works he had put forth,
[In which the mannerly and modest author
Quotes the Right Worshipful his elder brother,]
Look'd wise a while, then said — " All this is true,
And very learnedly observ'd by you;
But there's another nobler reason for't,
That, rightly' observ'd, will fall but little short
Of solid mathematic demonstration,
Upon a full and perfect calculation;
And that is only this — As the' earth and moon
Do constantly move contrary upon
Their several axes, the rapidity
Of both their motions cannot fail to be
So violent, and naturally fast,
That larger distances may well be past
In less time than the Elephant has gone,
Although he had no motion of his own,
Which we on earth can take no measure of,
As you have made it evident by proof.
This granted, we may confidently hence
Claim title to another inference,
And make this wonderful phaenomenon
(Were there no other) serve our turn alone
To vindicate the grand hypothesis,
And prove the motion of the earth from this."
This said, the' assembly now was satisfied,
As men are soon upon the bias'd side;
With great applause receiv'd the' admir'd dispute,
And grew more gay, and brisk, and resolute,
By having (right or wrong) remov'd all doubt,
Than if the' occasion never had fall'n out;
Resolving to complete their Narrative,
And punctually insert this strange retrieve.
But while their grandees were diverted all
With nicely wording the Memorial,
The footboys, for their own diversion, too,
As having nothing, now, at all to do,
And when they saw the telescope at leisure,
Turn'd vertuosis, only for their pleasuse,
[With drills' and monkey's ingenuity,
That take delight to practise all they see,]
Began to stare and gaze upon the Moon,
As those they waited on before had done:
When one, whose turn it was by chance to peep,
Saw something in the lofty engine creep,
And, viewing carefully, discover'd more
Than all their masters hit upon before.
Quoth he, " O strange! a little thing is slunk
On the' inside of the long star-gazing trunk,
And now is gotten down so low and nigh,
I have him here directly 'gainst mine eye."
This chancing to be overheard by one
Who was not, yet, so hugely overgrown
In any philosophic observation,
As to conclude with mere imagination;
And yet he made immediately a guess
At fully solving all appearances
A plainer way, and more significant
Than all their hints had prov'd o' the' Elephant,
And quickly found, upon a second view,
His own conjecture, probably, most true;
For he no sooner had applied his eye
To the' optic engine, but immediately
He found a small field-mouse was gotten in
The hollow telescope, and shut between
The two glass-windows, closely in restraint,
Was magnified into an Elephant,
And prov'd the happy vertuous occasion
Of all this deep and learned dissertation.
And as a mighty mountain heretofore,
Is said to' have been begot with child, and bore
A silly mouse, this captive mouse, as strange,
Produc'd another mountain in exchange.
Meanwhile the grandees, long in consultation,
Had finish'd the miraculous Narration,
And set their hands, and seals, and sense, and wit,
To' attest and vouch the truth of all they 'ad writ,
When this unfortunate phaenomenon
Confounded all they had declar'd and done:
For 'twas no sooner told and hinted at,
But all the rest were in a tumult straight,
More hot and furiously enrag'd by far,
Than both the hosts that in the Moon made war,
To find so rare and admirable a hint,
When they had all agreed and sworn to' have seen't,
And had engag'd themselves to make it out,
Obstructed with a wretched paltry doubt.
When one, whose only task was to determine
And solve the worst appearances of vermin,
Who oft' had made profound discoveries
In frogs and toads, as well as rats and mice,
(Though not so curious and exact, 'tis true,
As many an exquisite rat-catcher knew)
After he had a while with signs made way
For something pertinent he had to say,
At last prevail'd — Quoth he, " This disquisition
Is, the one half of it, in my discission;
For though 'tis true the Elephant, as beast,
Belongs, of natural right, to all the rest;
The Mouse, that's but a paltry vermin, none
Can claim a title to but I alone;
And therefore humbly hope I may be heard,
In my own province, freely with regard.
" It is no wonder that we are cried down,
And made the table-talk of all the Town,
That rants and vapours still, for all our great
Designs and projects, we 'ave done nothing yet;
If every one have liberty to doubt,
When some great secret's more than half made out;
Because, perhaps, it will not hold out true,
And put a stop to all we' attempt to do.
As no great action ever has been done,
Nor ever's like to be, by Truth alone,
If nothing else but only truth we allow,
'Tis no great matter what we intend to do;
[For Truth is always too reserv'd and chaste,
To' endure to be by all the Town embrac'd;
A solitary anchorite, that dwells
Retir'd from all the world, in obscure cells,]
Disdains all great assemblies, and defies
The press and crowd of mix'd societies,
That use to deal in novelty and change,
Not of things true, but great, and rare, and strange,
To entertain the world with what is fit
And proper for its genius and its wit;
The world that's never found to set esteem
On what things are, but what they' appear and seem;
And if they are not wonderful and new,
They're ne'er the better for their being true.
[For what is truth, or knowledge, but a kind
Of wantonness and luxury o' th' mind,
A greediness and gluttony o' the brain,
That longs to eat forbidden fruit again,
And grows more desperate, like the worst diseases
Upon the nobler part (the mind) it seizes?]
And what has mankind ever gain'd by knowing
His little truths, unles his own undoing,
That prudently by Nature had been hidden,
And, only for his greater good, forbidden?
And therefore with as great discretion does
The world endeavour still to keep it close;
For if the secrets of all truths were known,
Who would not, once more, be as much undone?
For truth is never without danger in't,
As here it has depriv'd us of a hint
The whole assembly had agreed upon,
And utterly defeated all we 'ad done,
[By giving footboys leave to interpose,
And disappoint whatever we propose;]
For nothing but to cut out work for Stubbs,
And all the busy academic clubs,
[For which they have deserv'd to run the risks
Of elder-sticks, and penitential frisks.]
How much, then, ought we have a special care
That none presume to know above his share,
Nor take upon him to understand, henceforth,
More than his weekly contribution's worth;
That all those that have purchas'd of the college
A half, or but a quarter share, of knowledge,
And brought none in themselves, but spent repute,
Should never be admitted to dispute,
Nor any member undertake to know
More than his equal dividend comes to?
For partners have perpetually been known
To' impose upon their public interest prone;
And if we have not greater care of ours,
It will be sure to run the self-same course."
This said, the whole Society allow'd
The doctrine to be orthodox and good,
And from the' apparent truth of what they'ad heard,
Resolv'd, henceforth, to give Truth no regard;
But what was for their interests to vouch,
And either find it out, or make it such:
That 'twas more admirable to create
Inventions, like truth, out of strong conceit,
Than with vexatious study, pains, and doubt,
To find, or but suppose to' have found, it out.
This b'ing resolv'd, the' assembly, one by one,
Review'd the tube, the Elephant, and Moon;
But still the more and curiouser they pry'd,
They but became the more unsatisfy'd,
In no one thing they gaz'd upon agreeing,
As if they 'ad different principles of seeing.
Some boldly swore, upon a second view,
That all they had beheld before was true,
And damn'd themselves they never would recant
One syllable they had seen of the' Elephant;
Avow'd his shape and snout could be no Mouse's,
But a true natural Elephant's proboscis.
Others began to doubt as much, and waver,
Uncertain which to disallow or favour;
[Until they had as many cross resolves,
As Irishmen that have been turn'd to wolves,]
And grew distracted whether to espouse
The party of the Elephant or Mouse.
Some held there was no way so orthodox,
As to refer it to the ballot-box,
And, like some other nation's patriots,
To find it out, or make the truth, by votes:
Others were of opinion 'twas more fit
To' unmount the telescope and open it,
And, for their own and all men's satisfaction,
To search and re-examine the Transaction;
And afterward to explicate the rest,
As they should see occasion for the best.
To this, at length, as th' only expedient,
The whole assembly freely gave consent;
But ere the optic tube was half let down,
Their own eyes clear'd the first phaenomenon:
For at the upper end, prodigious swarms
Of busy flies and gnats, like men in arms,
Had all past muster in the glass by chance,
For both the Peri and the Subvolvans.
This b'ing discover'd, once more put them all
Into a worse and desperater brawl;
Surpris'd with shame, that men so grave and wise
Should be trepann'd by paltry gnats and flies,
And to mistake the feeble insects' swarms
For squadrons and reserves of men in arms:
As politic as those who, when the Moon
As bright and glorious in a river shone,
Threw casting-nets with equal cunning at her,
To catch her with, and pull her out o' the' water.
But when, at last, they had unscrew'd the glass,
To find out where the sly impostor was,
And saw 'twas but a Mouse, that by mishap
Had catch'd himself, and them, in the' optic trap,
Amaz'd, with shame confounded, and afflicted
To find themselves so openly convicted,
Immediately made haste to get them gone,
With none but this discovery alone, —
That learned men, who greedily pursue
Things that are rather wonderful than true,
And, in their nicest speculations, choose
To make their own discoveries strange news,
And natural history rather a Gazette
Of rarities stupendous and far-fet;
Believe no truths are worthy to be known,
That are not strongly vast and overgrown,
And strive to explicate appearances,
Not as they're probable, but as they please,
In vain endeavour Nature to suborn,
And, for their pains, are justly paid with scorn.