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One maid she had belov'd above the rest;
Secure of her, the secret fhe confefs'd;
And now the chearful light her fears dispellid
She with no winding turns the truth conceal'd,
But put the woman off, and stood reveald:
With faults confèss'd commission'd her to go,
If pity yet had place, and reconcile her foe;
The welcome message made, was soon receiv'd;
'Twas to be wish'd, and hop'd, but scarce believ'd;
Fate seem'd a fair occasion to present;
He knew the sex, and fear'd she might repent,
Should he delay the moment of consent.
There yet remain'd to gain her friends (a care
The modesty of maidens well might spare ;)
But she with such a zeal the case embrac'd,
(As women, where they will, are all in haste)
The father, mother, and the kin befide,
Were overborne by fury of the tide:
With full consent of all she chang'd her state;
Refiftless in her love, as in her hate.
By her example warn'd, the rest beware;
More easy, less imperious, were the fair ;
And that one hunting, which the devil design'd
For one fair female, loft him half the kind.
(Dr. Jonathan Swift, geboren 1667, gestorben 1745, erwarb sich zwar den meisten Ruhm durch seine prosaischen Schriften satirischer Gattung; aber auch als Dichter behaup. tet er unter seinen Landesleuten eine rühmliche Stelle; und man findet in seinen meisten Versen eben die reiche Ader des Wißes und der Laune wieder, die seine Prore so reich durchs ferimt. Ihr Ton ist leicht und munter, und ihre Schreibs art korrekt. Der aus Ovid's Metamorphosen (B. VIII, v. 618. ff.) bekannten Fabel von Philemon und Baucis hat Swift in folgender Erzählung eine sehr glückliche komische Wendung zu geben gewußt. Eine Nachahmung beider Dich: ter findet man in von bagedorn's Fabeln und Erzähluns gen.)
In ancient Times, as story tells,
The Saints would often leave their Cells,
And strole about, but hide their Quality,
To try good People's Hospitality.
It happen'd on a Winter Night,
As Authors of the Legend write;
Two Brother Hermits, Saints by Trade,
Taking their tour in Masquerade;
Disguisd in tatter'd Habits, went
To a small Village down in Kent;
Where, in the Strolers canting Strain,
They begg'd from Door to Door in vain;
Try'd ev'ry Tone, might Pity win,
But not a Soul would let 'em in,
Our wand'ring Saints in woful State,
Treated at this ungodly Rate,
Having thro' all the Village país’d,
To a small Cottage came at last,
Where dwelt a good old honest Yeoman,
Call'd in the Neighbourhood, Philemon.
Who kindly did the Saints invite
In his poor Hutt to pass the Night;
And then the hospitable Sire
Bid Goody Baucis mend the Fire;
While he from out the Chimny took
A Flitch of Bacon off the Hook;
And freely from the fattest Side
Cut out large Slices to be fry'd:
Then stept aside to fetch 'em Drink
Fillid a large lugg up to the Brink;
And saw it fairly twice go round;
Yet (what is wonderful) they found,
Twas still replenil hd to the Top,
As if they ne'er had toucht a Drop.
The good old Couple was amaz’d,
And often on each other gaz’d;
For both were frighted to the Heart,
And just began to cry;
Then softly turn'd aside, to view
Whether the Light were burning blue.
The gentle Pilgrims soon avare on't,
Told 'em their Calling, and their Errant:
Good Folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but Saints, the Hermits said ;
No hurt shall come to you or yours;
But, for that Pack of Churlish Boors,
Not fit to live on Christian Ground,
They and their Houses shall be drown'd;
Whilft you shall see your Cottage rise,
And grow a Church before your Eyes.
They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft,
The Roof began to mount aloft;
Aloft rose ev'ry Beam and Rafter
The heavy Wall climb'd flowly after.
The Chimney widen'd, and grew high’r,
Became a Steeple with a Spire.
The Kettle to the Top was hoist,
And there stood fast'ned to a Joift:
But with the Upside down, to show
Its Inclination for below;
In vain; for a fuperior Force
Apply'd at Bottom, stops its Course,
Doom'd ever in Suspense to dwell,
»Tis now no Kettle, but a Bell.
A wooden Jack, which had almost
Loft, by disuse, the Art to roast,
A sudden Alteration feels,
Encreas_d by new Intestine Wheels:
And, what exalts the Wonder more,
The Number made the Motion flow'r:
The Flyar, tho''t had leaden Feet,
Turn'd round so quick you scarce could feet;
But slackend by some secret pow'r
Now hardly moves an Inch an Hour.
The Jack and Chimney near ally'd,
Had never left each others fide;
The Chimney to a Steeple grown,
The Jack would no be left alone,
But up against the Steeple reard,
Became a Clock, and still adher'd:
And still its Love to Houl hold Cares
By a shrill Voice at Noon declares,
Warning the Cook:maid not to burn
That Roast-meat which it cannot turn.
The groaning Chair began to crawl
Like a huge Snail along the Wall;
There stuck aloft in publick View,
And, with small Change, a Pulpit grew.
The Porringers that In a Row
Hung high, and made a glittring Show,
To a less noble Substance chang'd,
Were now but Leathern Buckets rang'd.
The Ballads pasted on the Wall,
Of Joan of France, and English Moll,
Fair Rolamond, and Robin Hoods
The little Children in the Wood;
Now seem'd to look abundance better,
Improv'd in Picture, Size, and Letter;
And high in Order plac'd, describe
The Heraldry of ev'ry Tribe.
A Bedsted of the antique Mode,
Compact of Timber many 2 Load,
Such as our Ancestors did use.
Was metamorphol'd into Pews,
Which still their ancient Nature keep;
By lodging Folks, dispos'd to Sleep.
The Cottage, by such Feats as these,
Grown to a Church by just Degrees,
The Hermits then desir'd their Hoft
To ask for what he fancy'd moft:
Philemon having pausd a while,
Return'd'em thanks in homely ftile;
Then said; my House is grown fo fine,
Methinks I still would call it mine:
I'm old, and fain would live at ease,
Make me the Parfon, if you please.
He spoke, and presently he feels
His Grasiers Coat fall down his Heels;
He sees, yet hardly can believe,
About each Arin a Pudding-sleeve.
His Wastcoat to a Carlock
And both assum'd a fable Hue;
But being old, continu'd just
As thread-bare, and as full of Duft.
His talk was now of Tythes and Dues,
Could smoak his Pipe, and read the News ;
Knew how to preach old Sermons next,
Vampt in the Preface and the Text.
A Christnings well could act his Part,
And had the Service all by Heart;
Wilh'd Women might have Children fast,