Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;- If want provoked, or madness made them print, Did some more sober critic come abroad; Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! Just writes to make his barrenness appear, And strains from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year; He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft, All these, my modest satire bade translate, And owned that nine such poets made a Tate. Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Atticus" is Pope's fictitious name for Addison. Alexander Pope ORGO. [At her friend's door.] Praxinoe within? GORGO Eunoe. How late you are! Yes, she's within. Prax. [Appearing.] Why, Gorgo, de What, And so you're come at last! A seat here, Eunoe; And set a cushion. Eunoe. Prax. There is one. Sit down. Gorgo. Oh, what a thing's a spirit! Do you kno I've scarcely got alive to you, Praxinoe? 1 Idyll XV, translated by Leigh Hunt. Following is a part of translator's introductory commentary: "It is a poem on the Rites Adonis; or rather, on a couple of gossips, making holiday to enjoy festival that formed a part of the rites. Adonis, the favorite of Ven slain by the boar, and permitted by Jupiter to return to life every h year and enjoy her company, was annually commemorated by the heat world for the space of two days, the first of which was passed in mou ing for his death, and the second, in feasting and merriment for his c ing to life. Arsinoe, the consort of the poet's patron, Ptolemy Phila phus, celebrated these rites in the Egyptian capital, Alexandria; and T critus, in order to praise his royal friends, and at the same time giv picture of his countrywomen, introduces two women who were born Syracuse and settled in Alexandria, making holiday on the occasion, going to see the show. The show was that of the second day, and p cipally consisted of an image of Adonis laid in a bower of leaves tapestry, and served with all the luxuries of the season, particularly flow in pots. He was attended by flying Cupids, and eulogized by singers hymns, much in the manner of saints and angels in a modern Catholic tival; and on the following morning, the image, with its flowers, taken in procession to the seaside, and committed to the waters on its to the other world. The whole proceeding is intimated in the poem. means of verses put into the mouth of the public singer, the Gris Malibran of the day; but the chief portion of it is assigned to the hur of the two gossips, who are precisely such as would be drawn at this mor on a similar occasion in any crowded city." There's such a crowd-such heaps of carriages, Prax. Why, 'twas his shabby doing. He would take 'Twas all to spite me, and to part us two. Gorgo. [Speaking lower.] there's a dear, Don't talk so of your husband, Before the little one. See how he looks at you. Prax. [To the little boy.] There, don't look grave, child; cheer up, Zopy, sweet; It isn't your papa we're talking of. Gorgo. [Aside.] He thinks it is, though. Prax. Oh no-nice papa! [To Gorgo.] Well, this strange body once (let us say once, Comes bringing salt! the great big simpleton! And I am told the queen has made of it A wonderful fine thing. Prax. Ay, luck has luck. Well, tell us all about it; for we hear Nothing in this vile place. Gorgo. We haven't time. Workers can't throw away their holidays. Prax. Some water, Eunoe; and then, my fine one, Look how she brings it! Now, then;-hold, hold, careless; [Exit Eunoe. Gorgo. Praxinoe, that gown with the full skirts That's good. You're quite right. Re-enter Eunoe. Ah, ha! True; Come; my cloak, my cloak; And parasol. There-help it on now, properly. [To the little boy.] Child, child, you cannot go. The horse will bite it; The Horrid Woman's coming. Well, well, simpleton, Come, Gorgo.-Phrygia, take the child, and play with him; Well, Ptolemy, you've done fine things, that's certain, Does harm to trav'lers as they used to do, After the Egyptian fashion, lying in wait,— And all alike,—a set of cheats and brawlers. Here are the king's horse-guards! Pray, my good man, Look how it rears! It's like a great mad dog. |