A NEW SIMILE

IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT.

Long had I sought in vain to findA likeness for the scribblingkind—The modern scribbling kind, who writeIn wit, and sense, and nature’sspite—Till reading, I forgot what day on,A chapter out of Tooke’s Pantheon,41I think I met with something there,To suit my purpose to a hair.But let us not proceed too furious:First please to turn to god Mercurius:You’ll find him pictur’d at full length,In book the second, page the tenth.The stress of all my proofs on him I lay;And now proceed we to our simile.Imprimis, pray observe his hat;Wings upon either side—mark that.Well! what is it from thence we gather?Why, these denote a brain of feather.A brain of feather! veryright—With wit that’s flighty, learning light,Such as to modern bards decreed;A just comparison—proceed.In the next place, his feet peruse:Wings grow again from both his shoes;Design’d, no doubt, their part to bear,And waft his godship through the air.And here my simileunites—For, in a modern poet’s flights,I’m sure it may be justly said,His feet are useful as his head.Lastly, vouchsafe t’ observe his hand,Fill’d with a snake-encircled wand,By classic authors term’d Caduceus,And highly fam’d for several uses:To wit, most wondrously endued,No poppy-water half so good;For let folks only get a touch,Its soporific virtue’s such,Though ne’er so much awake before,That quickly they begin to snore:Add, too, what certain writers tell,With this he drives men’s souls to hell.Now to apply, begin we then;His wand ’s a modern author’s pen;The serpents round about it twin’dDenote him of the reptilekind—Denote the rage with which he writes,His frothy slaver, venom’d bites.An equal semblance still to keep,Alike, too, both conduce tosleep—This difference only, as the godDrove souls to Tartarus with his rod,With his goose-quill the scribbling elf,Instead of others, damns himself.And here my simile almosttript—Yet grant a word by way of postscript.Moreover, Mercury had a failing;Well! what of that? out with it—stealing;In which all modern bards agree,Being each as great a thief as he.But even this deity’s existenceShall lend my simile assistance:Our modern bards! why, what a-poxAre they—but senseless stones and blocks?

Imprimis, pray observe his hat;Wings upon either side—mark that.Well! what is it from thence we gather?Why, these denote a brain of feather.A brain of feather! veryright—With wit that’s flighty, learning light,Such as to modern bards decreed;A just comparison—proceed.

In the next place, his feet peruse:Wings grow again from both his shoes;Design’d, no doubt, their part to bear,And waft his godship through the air.And here my simileunites—For, in a modern poet’s flights,I’m sure it may be justly said,His feet are useful as his head.

Lastly, vouchsafe t’ observe his hand,Fill’d with a snake-encircled wand,By classic authors term’d Caduceus,And highly fam’d for several uses:To wit, most wondrously endued,No poppy-water half so good;For let folks only get a touch,Its soporific virtue’s such,Though ne’er so much awake before,That quickly they begin to snore:Add, too, what certain writers tell,With this he drives men’s souls to hell.

Now to apply, begin we then;His wand ’s a modern author’s pen;The serpents round about it twin’dDenote him of the reptilekind—Denote the rage with which he writes,His frothy slaver, venom’d bites.An equal semblance still to keep,Alike, too, both conduce tosleep—This difference only, as the godDrove souls to Tartarus with his rod,With his goose-quill the scribbling elf,Instead of others, damns himself.

And here my simile almosttript—Yet grant a word by way of postscript.Moreover, Mercury had a failing;Well! what of that? out with it—stealing;In which all modern bards agree,Being each as great a thief as he.But even this deity’s existenceShall lend my simile assistance:Our modern bards! why, what a-poxAre they—but senseless stones and blocks?

FOOTNOTES:41A popular school-book, by Andrew Tooke, Head Master of the Charter-house.

41A popular school-book, by Andrew Tooke, Head Master of the Charter-house.

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