« EelmineJätka »
The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all
He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God,
Our fons shall see it leisurely decay,
This thing has traveld, speaks each language too,
60 And Oldmixon and Burnet both out-lie.
He spies me out, I whisper, Gracious God! What sin of mine could merit such a rod ? That all the shot of dulness now must be From this thy blunderbuss discharg'd on me! 65 Permit (he cries) no ftranger to your fame To crave your sentiment, ifm-'s your name. What Speech esteem you most ? " The King's, said I.” But the best words? - Sir, the Dictionary,"
Nay, but of men, most sweet Sir? Beza then,
Some Jesuits, and two reverend men
Of our two academies I nam'd: here
He stopt me, and said, Nay your Apostles were
Good pretty Linguists; fo Panurgus was,
Yet a poor Gentleman; all these may pass
By travail. Then, as if he would have fold
His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told,
That I was fain to say, If you had liv'd, Sir,
Time enough to have been Interpreter
To Babels Bricklayers, sure the Tower had ftood.
He adds, If of Court life you knew the good,
You would leave loneness.
I said, Not alone
My loneness is ; but Spartanes fashion
Notes, VER. 78. Yet these were all peor Gentlemen!] Our Poet has here added to the humour of his original. Donne makes his thread-bare Traveller content himself under his
You miss my aim; I mean the most acute
70 And perfect Speaker? _“ Onslow, paft dispute.” But, Sir, of writers ? “ Swift, for clofer style, " But Ho**y for a period of a mile." Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pass : Good common linguists, and so Panurge was ; 75 Nay troth th' Apostles (tho' perhaps too rough) Had once a pretty gift of Tongues enough: Yet these were all poor Gentlemen! I dare Affirm, 'twas Travel made them what they were.
Thus others talents having nicely shown, 80 He came by sure transition to his own: Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself fo able, Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel ; For had they found a linguist half so good, I make no question but the Tow'r had stood.
“ Obliging Sir! for Courts you sure were made: is Why then for ever bury'd in the shade ? i Spirits like you, should see and should be seen, c. The King would smile on you--at least the Queen. Ah gentle Sir! you Courtiers so cajol us
9 But Tully has it, Nunquam minus folus : And as for Courts, forgive me, if I say No lessons now are taught the Spartan way:
Notes. poverty with the reflection that Panurge himself, the grea: Traveler and Linguist in Rabelais, went a begging.
To teach by painting drunkards doth not last
Kings only: The way to it is Kings-street.
Notes. • Ver. 104. He ev'ry day from King to King can walk,} There is something humourous enough in the words of the Original. The way to it is Kings-fireet. But the Imi- .