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This being discover'd, put them all Into a fresh and fiercer brawl, Asham'd that men so grave and wise Should be chaldes'd by gnats and flies, And take the feeble insects' swarms For mighty troops of men at arms; As vain as those who, when the Moon Bright in a crystal river shone, Threw casting nets as subtly at her, To catch and pull her out o' th' water. But when they had unscrew'd the glass, To find out where th' impostor was, And saw the mouse, that, by mishap, Had made the telescope a trap, Amaz'd, confounded, and afflicted, To be so openly convicted, Immediately they get them gone, With this discovery alone: That those who greedily pursue Things wonderful instead of true, That in their speculations choose To make discoveries strange news,` And natural history a Gazette Of tales stupendous and far-fet, Hold no truth worthy to be known, That is not huge and overgrown, And explicate appearances, Not as they are, but as they please, In vain strive Nature to suborn,

And, for their pains, are paid with scorn.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON.

IN LONG VERSE.

A VIRTUOUS, 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 inventory 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 t' have sunk a shire:
T'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

T attempt so great and glorious a design1:
[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 th' 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 Heaven itself t' assail,

This and the following verses, to the end of the paragraph, are not in the foregoing composi

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 virtuoso then in chief,

Had been approv'd the most profound and wise
At solving all impossibilities,

With gravity advancing, to apply

To th' optic glass his penetrating eye,

Cry'd 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 t' 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 o' th' 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 th' inhabitants are civiller

Than those rude country peasants, that are found,
Like mountaineers, to live on th' 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 th' eastern virtuosi mandarines;
Apply'd an optic nerve, and half a nose,
To th' 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
T" observe the bloody formidable fight,
Consider'd carefully, and then cry'd 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-seasou, their campaigns,

tion; and are distinguished, as well as the rest of the same kind, by being printed with brackets.

And muster, like the military sons
Of Rawhead and victorious Bloody bones,
As great and numerous as Soland geese
I' th' 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 th' 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
T'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 fiddle to
Things of the most important weight they do."
While thus the virtuoso 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

I' th' 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 horrour 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 given us ample satisfaction all
Of th' 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 them of all sorts and nations,
And Heaven, like a northern Tartar's hord,
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 th' assembly now had had a sight
Of all distinct particulars o' th' fight,
And every man, with diligence and care,
Perus'd and view'd of th' 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 magnify'd himself no less
In foreign and domestic colleges,
Began, at last (transported with the twang
Of his own elocution) thus t' harangue.

"Most virtuous 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 phenomenon,
We now have gotten ground upon the Moon,
And gain'd a pass, t' engage and hold dispute
With all the other planets that stand out;
And carry on this brave and virtuous war
Home to the door of th' obstinatest star,
And plant th' 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 desigus,
Because they're ours, suspected for ill signs.
Tout-throw, and magnify, and to enlarge,
Shall, henceforth, be no more laid to our charge;
Nor shall our best and ablest virtuosis
Prove arguments again for coffee-houses;
[Nor little stories gain belief among
Our criticallest judges, right or wrong:]
Nor shall our new-invented chariots draw
The boys to course us in them 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 consort try'd as solitary,

And that th' assembly is uncertain when
Such great discoveries will occur again,
'Tis reasonable 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 th' 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 t' advance,
That from the west-by-north side of the Moon
To th' 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 anew,
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 make 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 errour 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 ty'd 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.

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 phenomenon
(Were there no other) serve our turn alone
To vindicate the grand hypothesis,

And prove the motion of the Earth from this."
This said, th' assembly now were satisfy'd,
As men are soon upon the bias'd side;
With great applause receiv'd th' admir'd dispute,
And grew more gay, and brisk, and resolute,
By having (right or wrong) remov'd all doubt,
Than if th' 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 virtuosi, only for their pleasure;
[With drills' and monkeys' 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 peop,
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 th' 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 plairer way, and more significant,

Than all their hints had prov'd o' th' elephant;

From hence may be inferr'd, that, though I grant And quickly found, upon a second view,

We have beheld i' th' 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,
pon a full and perfect calculation;

And that is only this-As th' Earth and Moon
Do constantly move contrary upon
VOL, VIII.

His own conjecture, probably, most true;
For he no sooner had apply'd his eye
To th' 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 magnify'd into an elephant,
And prov'd the happy virtuous occasion
Of all this deep and learned dissertation.
And, as a mighty mountain, heretofore,
Is said t' have been got 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,
T'attest and vouch the truth of all they 'ad writ,
When this unfortunate phenomenon
Confounded all they had declar'd and done:
For 'twas no sooner told and hinted at,
But all the rest were in a tumult strait,

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,

[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,

When they had all agreed and sworn t' have seen 't, That none presume to know above his share,

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 cry'd down,
And made the table-talk of all the town,
That rants and vapours still, for all our great
Designs and projects, we 've done nothing yet,
If every one have liberty to doubt,

Nor take upon him t' 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
T'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 t' have found, it out.

This being resolv'd, th' assembly, one by one,

When some great secret's more than half made out, Review'd the tube, the elephant, and Moon;

Because, perhaps, it will not hold out true,

And put a stop to all w' 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 w' allow,
'Tis no great matter what w' intend to do:
[For Truth is always too reserv'd and chaste,
T 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' th' 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 truth, unless 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,
Aud 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 Stubs,
And all the busy academic clubs,

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 'ad beheld before was true,
And damn'd themselves they never would recant
One syllable they 'ad seen of th' 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
T' 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 phenomenon:
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 being 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' th' 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 2, that by mishap
Had catch'd himself, and them, in th' 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.

A SATIRE ON THE ROYAL SOCIETY.
A FRAGMENT 3.

A LEARNED man, whom once a week
A hundred virtuosi seek,

And like an oracle apply to,

Task questions, and admire, and lie to;
Who entertain'd them all of course,
(As men take wives for better or worse)
And past them all for men of parts,
Though some but sceptics in their hearts;
For, when they 're cast into a lump,
Their talents equally must jump:
As metals mixt, the rich and base
Do both at equal values pass.

With these the ordinary debate
Was after news, and things of state,
Which way the dreadful comet went
In sixty-four, and what it meant ?
What nations yet are to bewail
The operation of its tail?

Or whether France or Holland yet,
Or Germany, be in its debt?
What wars and plagues in Christendom
Have happen'd since, and what to come?
What kings are dead, how many queens
And princesses are poison'd since?
And who shall next of all by turn

Make courts wear black, and tradesmen mourn?
What parties next of foot or horse,
Will rout, or routed be, of course?
What German marches, and retreats,
Will furnish the next month's Gazettes ?
What pestilent contagion next,

And what part of the world, infects?
What dreadful meteor, and where,
Shall in the heavens next appear?
And when again shall lay embargo
Upon the admiral, the good ship Argo?
Why currents turn in seas of ice
Some thrice a day, and some but twice?
And why the tides, at night and noon,
Court, like Caligula, the Moon?
What is the natural cause why fish,
That always drink, do never piss?
Or whether in their home, the deep,
By night or day they ever sleep?
If grass be green, or snow be white,
But only as they take the light?
Whether possessions of the Devil,
Or mere temptations, do most evil?
What is 't that makes all fountains still
Within the Earth to run up hill,
But on the outside down again,

As if th' attempt had been in vain?
Or what's the strange magnetic cause
The steel or loadstone 's drawn, or draws?
The star the needle, which the stone
Has only been but touch'd upon?
Whether the north-star's influence
With both does hold intelligence?
(For red-hot ir'n, held tow'rds the pole,
Turns of itself to 't when 'tis cool:
Or whether male and female screws
In th' iron and stone th' effect produce?
What makes the body of the Sun,
That such a rapid course does run,
To draw no tail behind through th' air,
As comets do, when they appear;
Which other planets cannot do,
Because they do not burn, but glow?
Whether the Moon be sea or land,
Or charcoal, or a quench'd firebrand?

* Butler, to compliment his mouse for affording
him an opportunity of indulging his satirical turn,
and displaying his wit upon this occasion, has, to
the end of this poem, subjoined the following epi-Or if the dark holes that appear,
grammatical note:

A mouse, whose martial value has so long
Ago been try'd, and by old Homer sung,
And purchas'd him more everlasting glory
Than all his Grecian and his Trojan story,
Though he appears unequal matcht, I grant,
In bulk and stature by the elephant,
Yet frequently has been observ'd in battle
To have reduc'd the proud and haughty cattle,
When, having boldly enter'd the redoubt,
And storm'd the dreadful outwork of his snout,
The little vermin, like an errant-knight,
Has slain the huge gigantic beast in fight.

3 Butler formed a design of writing another satire upon the Royal Society, part of which I find amongst his papers, fairly and correctly transcribed.

Are only pores, not cities there?
Whether the atmosphere turn round,
And keep a just pace with the ground,
Or loiter lazily behind,

And clog the air with gusts of wind?
Or whether crescents in the wane
(For so an author has it plain)

Whether he ever finished it, or the remainder of it be lost, is uncertain: the fragment, however, that is preserved, may not improperly be added in this place, as in some sort explanatory of the preceding poem: and, I am persuaded, that those who have a taste for Butler's turn and humour will think this too curious a fragment to be lost, though perhaps too imperfect to be formally published.

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