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When he speaks,
So shall I,
THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH
FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG.
A PASTORAL. Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair; No British miss sincerer grief has known, Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown. She furld her sampler, and haul'd in her thread, And stuck her needle into Grildrig's bed ; Then spread her hands, and with a bounce let fall Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall. In peals of thunder now she roars, and now, She gently whimpers like a lowing cow : Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears : Her locks dishevell’d and her flood of tears,
Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain, When from the thatch drips fast a shower of rain.
In vain she search'd each cranny of the house, Each gaping chink, impervious to a mouse. “ Was it for this (she cried) with daily care Within thy reach I set the vinegar, And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide, While pepper-water worms thy bait supplied; Where twined the silver eel around thy hook, And all the little monsters of the brook! Sure in that lake he dropp'd; my Grilly's drown'd!” She dragg’d the cruet, but no Grildrig found.
“ Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast! But little creatures enterprise the most. Trembling I've seen thee dare the kitten's paw, Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at taw, Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew; Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you!
Why did I trust thee with that giddy youth? Who from a page can ever learn the truth? Versed in court-tricks, that money-loving boy To some lord's daughter sold the living toy; Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, As children tear the wings of flies away. From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam, And never will return, or bring thee home. But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind ? How then thy fairy footsteps can I find ? Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone In the green thicket of a mossy stone;
Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slippery round,
“ But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves
voice, Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noise:
She sobb'd a storm, and wiped her flowing eyes,
TO MR. LEMUEL GULLIVER,
THE GRATEFUL ADDRESS OF THE UNHAPPY HOUYHNHNMS,
NOW IN SLAVERY AND BONDAGE IN ENGLAND.
[These pieces of Pope are given by Sir Walter Scott in his Life of Swift, with the exception of the present verses, from a Horse; which he observes “ do not appear.” Swift's Works, vol. xiii. p. 372.]
To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm band,
. O happy Yahoo, purged from human crimes, By thy sweet sojourn in those virtuous climes, Where reign our sires; there, to thy country's
Art thou the first who did the coast explore ; Did never Yahoo tread that ground before ? Yes, thousands ! But in pity to their kind, Or sway'd by envy, or through pride of mind, They hid their knowledge of a nobler race, Which own'd, would all their sires and sons dis
You, like the Samian, visit lands unknown, And by their wiser morals mend your own. Thus Orpheus travell’d to reform his kind, Came back, and tamed the brutes he left behind.
You went, you saw, you heard: with virtue
fought, Then spread those morals which the Houyhnhnms
taught. Our labours here must touch thy generous heart, To see us strain before the coach and cart; Compell’d to run each knavish jockey's heat ! Subservient to Newmarket's annual cheat! With what reluctance do we lawyers bear, To fleece their country clients twice a year? Or managed in your schools, for fops to ride, How foam, how fret beneath a load of pride! Yes, we are slaves—but yet, by reason's force, Have learn'd to bear misfortune, like a horse.
O would the stars, to ease my bonds, ordain, That gentle Gulliver might guide my rein!