189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,001[' ]| Parnassus, February the twenty-seventh, 189:94,002[' ]| The Poets assembled here on the Eleventh; 189:94,003[' ]| Conven'd by Apollo, who gave them to know, 189:94,004[' ]| He'd have a Vicegerent in his Empire below; 189:94,005[' ]| But declar'd that no Bard shou'd this Honour inherit, 189:94,006[' ]| 'Till the rest had agreed he surpass'd them in Merit: 189:94,007[' ]| Now this you'll allow was a difficult Case, 189:94,008[' ]| For each Bard believ'd he'd a Right to the Place; 189:94,009[' ]| So finding the Assembly grown warm in Debate, 189:94,010[' ]| He put 'em in Mind of his Phaeton's Fate: 189:94,011[' ]| 'Twas urg'd to no Purpose, the Dispute higher rose, 189:94,012[' ]| Scarce Phoebus himself cou'd their Quarrels compose. 189:94,013[' ]| 'Till at length he determined that every Bard 189:94,014[' ]| Shou'd (each in their Turn) be patiently heard. 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,015[' ]| First, one who believ'd he excell'd in Translation, 189:94,016[' ]| Founds his Claim on the Doctrine of Transmigration: 189:94,017[C ]| "Since the Soul of great Milton was given to me, 189:94,018[C ]| I hope the Convention will quickly agree ~~ " 189:94,019[B ]| "Agree," 189:94,019[' ]| quoth Apollo, 189:94,019[B ]| "from whence is this Fool? 189:94,020[B ]| Is he just come from reading Pythagoras at School? 189:94,021[B ]| Begone, Sir, you've got your Subscriptions in Time, 189:94,022[B ]| And giv'n in Return neither Reason nor Rhyme." 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,023[B ]| "To the next," 189:94,023[' ]| says the God, 189:94,023[B ]| "tho' now I won't chuse you, 189:94,024[B ]| I'll tell you the Reason for which I refuse you; 189:94,025[B ]| Love's Goddess has oft to her Parent complain'd, 189:94,026[B ]| Of my fav'ring a Bard who her Empire disdain'd, 189:94,027[B ]| That at my Instigation a Poem you writ, 189:94,028[B ]| Which to Beauty and youth prefer'd Judgment and Wit; 189:94,029[B ]| That to make you a Laureate I gave the first Voice, 189:94,030[B ]| Inspiring the Britons t' approve of my Choice. 189:94,031[B ]| Jove sent her to me her Power to try; 189:94,032[B ]| The Goddess of Beauty what God can deny? 189:94,033[B ]| She forbids your Preferment, I grant her Desire, 189:94,034[B ]| Appease the fair Goddess, you then may rise higher." 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,035[' ]| The next that appear'd, had good Hopes of succeeding, 189:94,036[' ]| For he merited much for his wit and his Breeding. 189:94,037[' ]| 'Twas wise in the Britons no favour to shew him, 189:94,038[' ]| He else might expect they shou'd pay what they owe him. 189:94,039[' ]| And therefore they prudently chose to discard 189:94,040[' ]| The Patriot, whose Merits they wou'd not reward. 189:94,041[' ]| The God with a Smile bid his fav'rite advance, 189:94,042[B ]| "You were sent by Astrea her Envoy to France. 189:94,043[B ]| You bent your Ambition to rise in the State, 189:94,044[B ]| I refuse you, because you cou'd stoop to be great." 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,045[' ]| Then a Bard, who had been a successful Translator, 189:94,046[B ]| "The Convention allows me a Versificator." 189:94,047[' ]| Says Apollo, 189:94,047[B ]| "You mention the least of your Merit, 189:94,048[B ]| By your Works it appears you have much of my Spirit; 189:94,049[B ]| I esteem you so well, that to tell you the Truth, 189:94,050[B ]| The greatest Objection against you's your Youth; 189:94,051[B ]| Then be not concerned you are now laid aside, 189:94,052[B ]| If you live you shall certainly one Day preside." 189:94,000[' ]| 189:94,053[' ]| Another, low bending, Apollo thus greets, 189:94,054[D ]| "'Twas I taught your Subjects to walk thro' the Streets." 189:94,055[B ]| "You taught 'em to walk, why they knew it before, 189:94,056[B ]| But give me the Bard that can teach them to soar; 189:94,057[B ]| Whenever he claims his Right, I'll confess 189:94,058[B ]| Who lately attempted my Style with Success; 189:94,059[B ]| Who writes like Apollo, has most of his Spirit, 189:94,060[B ]| And therefore 'tis just I distinguish his Merit; 189:94,061[B ]| Who makes it appear by all he has writ, 189:94,062[B ]| His Judgment alone can set Bounds to his Wit; 189:94,063[B ]| Like Virgil correct, with his own Native Ease, 189:94,064[B ]| But excels ev'n Virgil in elegant Praise; 189:94,065[B ]| Who admires the Ancients, and knows 'tis their due, 189:94,066[B ]| Yet writes in a Manner entirely new; 189:94,067[B ]| Tho' none with more Ease their Depths can explore, 189:94,068[B ]| Yet whatever he wants he takes from my Store; 189:94,069[B ]| Tho' I'm fond of his Virtues, his Pride I can see, 189:94,070[B ]| In scorning to borrow from any but me; 189:94,071[B ]| 'Tis owing to this, that like Cynthia, his Lays 189:94,072[B ]| Enlighten the World by reflecting my Rays." 189:94,073[' ]| This said, the whole Audience soon found out his Drift, 189:94,074[' ]| The Convention was summon'd in Favour of Swift.