Ante fores! quatuor formæ sua tollere miris
Ora modis/ en! torva tuens stat limine in ipso
Personam Logices induta Sophistica, denis
Cincta Categoriis, matrem quæ maxima natu
Filia materiem agnoscit---quantum inftar in ipfâ eft! 35
Grande caput, tenues oculi, cutis arida produnt
Fallacem : rete una manus tenet, altera fustem.
Vestis arachneis sordit circumdata telis,
Queis gaudet labyrinthæos. Dea callida nodoš.
Afpicias jam funereo gradientem inceffu---
40
Quàm lentè cælo Saturni volvitur aftrum,
Quàm lentè faltaverunt post Orphea montes,
Quàm lentè, Oxonii, folennis pondera cænæ
Gestant tergeminorum abdomina bedellorum.
Proxima deinde tenet loca forte insana Mathesis,
45 Nuda pedes, chlamydem discincta, incompta capillos, Immeinor externi, punctoque innixa reclinat.
Four monstrous fhapes before the portal wait,
Of horrid aspect, centry to the gate :
Lol in the entrance, with disdainful eye,
In Logick's dark disguise, stands Sophiftry :
Her
very front would common sense confound,
Encompass’d with ten categories round:
She from Old Matter, the great mother, came,
By birth the eldest---and how like the dame !
Her shrivel'd skin, small eyes, prodigious pate,
Denote her shrewd, and subtle in debate :
This hand a net, and that sustains a club,
T'entangle her antagonist, or drub.
The spider's toils, all o'er her garment spread,
Imply the mazy errors of her head.
Behold her marching with funereal pace,
Slow as old Saturn rolls thro’ boundless space;
Slow as the mighty mountains mov'd along,
When Orpheus fais’d the lyre-attended song:
Or, as at Oxford, on some Gaudy day,
Fat Beadles, in magnificent array,
With big round bellies bear the pond'rous treat,
And heavily lag on, with the vast load of meat.
The next, mad Mathesis; her feet all bare,
Ungirt, untrim’d, with difíoluted hair :
No foreign object can her thoughts disjoint;
Reclin’d she fits, and ponders o'er a point.
Ante pedes vario inscriptam diagrammate arenam
Cernas, rectis curva, atque intertexta rotunda
Schemata quadratis---queis scilicet abdita rerum
Pandere fe jactat folam, doctasque forores
Fastidit, propriæque nihil non arrogat arti.
Illàm olim, duce Neutono, tum tendit ad astra ,
Ætheriasque domos fuperûm, indignata volantem
Turba mathematicûm retrahit, pænasque reposcens
Detinet in terris, nugisque exercet ineptis.
Tertia Microphile, proles furtiva parentis
Divinæ; produxit enim commixta furenti
Diva viro Physice---muscas & papiliones
Lustrat inexpletum, collumque & tempora rident
Floribus, & fungis, totâque propagine veris.
Rara oculis nugarum avidis animalia quærit
Omne genus, feu serpit humi, seu ludit in undis,
Seu volitans tremulis liquidum secat aëra pennis.
Before her, lo ! inscrib'd upon the ground,
Strange diagrams th' astonish'd fight confound,
Right lines and curves, with figures square and round.
With these the monster, arrogant and vain,
Boasts that she can all mysteries explain,
And treats the sacred Sisters with disdain.
75
She, when great Newton fought his kindred skies,
Sprung high in air, and strove with him to rise,
In vain---the mathematic mob restrains
Her flight, indignant, and on earth detains ;
E’er fince the captive wretch her brains employs 80
On trilling trinkets, and on gewgaw toys.
Microphile is ftation'd next in place,
The fpurious issue of celestial race ;
From heav'nly Physice she took her birth,
Her fire a madman of the fons of earth;
On flies she pores with keen, unwearied fight,
And moths and butterflies, her dear delight ;
Mushrooms and flow'rs, collected on a string,
Around her neck, around her temples cling,
With all the strange production of the spring.
With greedy eyes she'll search the world to find
Rare, uncouth animals of every kind;
Whether along the humble ground they stray,
Or nimbly sportive in the waters play,
Or thro’ the light expanse of æther fly,
And with fleet pinions cleave the liquid sky.
O! ubi littoribus noftris felicior aura
Polypon appulerit, quanto cava templa Stuporis
Mugitu concuffa trement, reboabit & ingens
Pulsa palus ! Plausu excipiet Dea blanda secundo
Microphile ante omnes ; jam non crocodilon adorat;
Non bombyx, conchæve juvant: sed Polypon ardet, 70
Solum Polypon ardet,----& ecce ! faceta feraci
Falce novos creat assidue, pascitque creatos,
Ah ! modo dilectis pascit nova gaudia muscis.
Quartam Materies peperit conjuncta Stupori, Nomen Atheia illi, monstrum cui lumen ademptum, 75 Atque aures; cui sensus abeft; sed mille trisulcæ Ore micant linguæ, refugas quibus inficit auras. Hanc Stupor ipse parens odit, vicina nefandos Horret fylva fonos, neque surda repercutit Echo
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