| Citation |
VGW(PA.737.026
11-18 Mar 1737:21, 22, 31, 32 (33)
REMARKS ON THE MONITOR'S LAST SONG.
A new song. This is a very proper title; because our author
sometimes publishes old songs, as has been elsewhere
observed.
How hard is my fate! to be thus over-match'd;
O good sir, forbear! let me not be dispatch'd;
Have pity on me, ---------
This is only a flourish, like that of a gladiator; who, at
first mounting the stage, gives the spectators a specimen of
the nimbleness of his wrist, not at all designing by it to
hurt his adversary.
--or at least on your self;
Your writing, as yet, has but prov'd you an elf.
--an elf, i.e. a fairy or a dwarf. Now, what sort of poets
they are, I cannot positively assert, having only seen one
composition from each species, viz. An old, well-known
fairy song, and the Ode to Quinbus Flestrin, by Titty Tit,
Esq; from which I shou'd have judged, that the Monitor
design'd me a compliment, if it was not inconsistent with
what follows. Leaving this, therefore, as a doubtful point,
I shall pass to the next.
Tho' your numbers are sweet, your muse she smells rank,
And by fatal mistake, she has play'd you a prank:
At once take advice, and pray try her no more,
She only design'd it, to play you the wh----.
This is the first time, I believe, that a muse was ever
accused of smelling rank; or, O fy! which is worse, of
playing the whore. Bad poetry shou'd rather be attributed
to the writer himself, uninspired, or some other immediate
cause: An example of which, we have in Butler, who, speaking
to the muse, says,
Thou that with ale, or other liquors,
Didst inspire withers, prynne and vickars.
But this can only be attributed to our author's not being
well acquainted with the antient poets, who always treat the
muses in a more decent manner. Again, -----
--- your muse she smells rank,
I might as well say, the Monitor he writes nonsense. This
expression alone, notwithstanding the wit of his pox on it,
wou'd be sufficient to bring the grub home to his own door.
These four fruitful lines, I find, are like to give me
more trouble; for he says, that my muse play'd me a prank by
mistake, and design'd it too; which is plainly inconsistent
with common sense. Besides, she design'd it, i.e. this
prank, to play, or in order to play me the whore: Now,
whether there be any difference between playing the prank,
and playing the whore, I must confess is something too deep
for my determination. I cannot but observe, that the
Gazette was finely adorn'd in front, with Colley's fair-ey'd
virgin, and behind, with the Monitor's stinking muse.
--- your muse she smells rank,
This, in the most antient and perhaps the most authentick
copy, was----- your musick smells rank. If this be the true
reading, I must retract some of my notes above written, and
only observe, that the senses are here to confounded, as to
prove, that the author had none at all; and is a
confirmation of the 5th argument in my last.
--- your musick smells rank,
This was said, in Gazette, no. 29, to have been wrong
printed for---your muse she smells rank. Quaere, whether it
be not wrong printed both ways?
Take this for a truth, you must pick well your ears,
Nay syringe them too, e'er your song reach the spheres;
Here is a new method of improving the voice, viz. by picking
and syringing the ears; which, it seems, I must do, e'er my
song reach the spheres. But why so high a flight, good Mr.
Monitor? Better poets have been contented with the top of
Parnassus. In composing these two lines, the musick of the
spheres struck the author's imagination, which brought ears
for rhime; then the lines must be filled up, which was done
by picking and syringing; and lastly, finding that it wou'd
not yet do, he was forc'd to turn from the musick of the
spheres to mine; for, it is impossible that any mortal poet
could have fallen at once on so surprising thought, as that
of a song reaching the spheres.
The tune you will leave to some other, or wise,
Or Midas's lugs will be thought your just prize.
Passing by the archness of putting lugs for ears; pray, why
should Zoilus deserve Midas's? If the fable be kept up to,
(which it must be, if meddled with at all) neither Zoilus,
nor the Monitor, can deserve Midas's ears, tho' a third
person may.
The sublime! I will know, you fain would essay,
This is a gross mistake in our author; for, if I had aimed
at the sublime, I shou'd have chosen a very different
subject. It only shews him to be entirely ignorant of the
different stiles in writing, by applying the sublime to
satire or ridicule.
But grub, a pox on it, still comes in the way;
Bombast stands for wit, and low thoughts for a jest,
Like an unseason'd dish, ----without any zest.
And now I am come to the last and main point, where he so
unmercifully lays about him. He accuses me of bombast, and
the Lord know what; whether justly or not, must be left to
the determination of others. My only design was, to rid the
press of so empty and incorrect a scribbler, which end being
obtain'd, I shall leave room for an abler pen.
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