No more our making old dogs young

Make men suspect us still i' th' wrong;

Nor new-invented chariots draw
The boys to course us without law;
Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse,
To turn them into mongrel curs,

Make them suspect our sculls are brittle,
And hold too much wit, or too little;
Nor shall our speculations, whether
An elder-stick will save the leather
Of schoolboys' breeches from the rod,
Make all we do appear as odd.
This one discovery 's enough
To take all former scandals off-
But since the world 's incredulous
Of all our scrutinies, and us,
And with a prejudice prevents
Our best and worst experiments,

(As if they were destin'd to miscarry,
In consort try'd, or solitary)
And since it is uncertain when
Such wonders will occur again,
Let us as cautiously contrive
To draw an exact narrative

Of what we every one can swear
Our

eyes themselves have seen appear,
That, when we publish the account,
We all may take our oaths upon 't."
This said, they all with one consent
Agreed to draw up th' instrument,
And, for the general satisfaction,
To print it in the next Transaction.
But whilst the chiefs were drawing up
This strange memoir o' th' telescope,
One, peeping in the tube by chance,
Beheld the elephant advance,
And from the west side of the Moon
To th' east was in a moment gone.
This being related, gave a stop
To what the rest were drawing up;
And every man, amaz'd anew
How it could possibly be true,
That any beast should run a race
So monstrous, in so short a space,
Resolv'd, howe'er, to make it good,
At least as possible as he could,
And rather his own eyes condemn,
Than question what he 'ad seen with them.
While all were thus resolv'd, a man
of great renown there thus began—
"Tis strange, I grant! but who can say
What cannot be, what can, and may?
Especially at so hugely vast

A distance as this wonder 's plac'd,
Where the least errour of the sight
May show things false, but never right;
Nor can we try them, so far off,

By any sublunary proof:

For who can say, that Nature there
Has the same laws she goes by here?
Nor is it like she has infus'd,
In every species there produc'd,
The same efforts she does confer
Upon the same productions here,

Since those with us, of several nations,
Have such prodigious variations,
And she affects so much to use
Variety in all she does.

Hence may b' inferr'd, that, though I grant
We 'ave seen i' th' Moon an elephant,

That elephant may differ so

From those upon the Earth below,
Both in his bulk, and force, and speed,
As being of a different breed,

That though our own are but slow-pac'd,
Theirs there may fly, or run as fast,
And yet be elephants, no less
Than those of Indian pedigrees."

This said, another of great worth,
Fam'd for his learned works put forth,
Look'd wise, then said-" All this is true,
And learnedly observ'd by you:
But there's another reason for 't,
That falls but very little short
Of mathematic demonstration,
Upon an accurate calculation,

And that is-As the Earth and Moon

Do both move contrary upon
Their axes, the rapidity

Of both their motions cannot be
But so prodigiously fast,

That vaster spaces may be past

In less time than the beast has gone,
Though he 'ad no motion of his own,
Which we can take no measure of,
As you have clear'd by learned proof.
This granted, we may boldly thence
Lay claim t' a nobler inference,
And make this great phenomenon
(Were there no other) serve alone
To clear the grand hypothesis
Of th' motion of the Earth from this."
With this they all were satisfy'd,
As men are wont o' th' biass'd side,
Applauded the profound dispute,
And grew more gay and resolute,
By having overcome all doubt,
Than if it never had fall'n out;
And, to complete their narrative,
Agreed t' insert this strange retrieve.

But while they were diverted all
With wording the memorial,
The footboys, for diversion too,
As having nothing else to do,
Seeing the telescope at leisure,
Turn'd virtuosi for their pleasure;
Began to gaze upon the Moon,
As those they waited on had done.
With monkeys' ingenuity,

That love to practise what they see;
When one, whose turn it was to peep,
Saw something in the engine creep,
And, viewing well, discover'd more
Than all the learn'd had done before.
Quoth he, "A little thing is slunk
Into the long star-gazing trunk,
And now is gotten down so nigh,
I have him just against mine eye."

This being overheard by one
Who was not so far overgrown
In any virtuous speculation,
To judge with mere imagination,
Immediately he made a guess
At solving all appearances,
A way far more significant
Than all their hints of th' elephant,
And found, upon a second view,
His own hypothesis most true;
For he had scarce apply'd his eye
To th' engine, but immediately

He found a mouse was gotten in
The hollow tube, and, shut between
The two glass windows in restraint,
Was swell'd into an elephant,
And prov'd the virtuous occasion
Of all this learned dissertation:
And, as a mountain heretofore

Was great with child, they say, and bore
A silly mouse; this mouse, as strange,
Brought forth a mountain in exchange.
Meanwhile the rest in consultation
Had penn'd the wonderful narration,
And set their hands, and seals, and wit,
Tattest the truth of what they 'ad writ,
When this accurs'd phenomenon
Confounded all they 'ad said or done:
For 'twas no sooner hinted at,

But they all were in a tumult strait,
More furiously enrag'd by far,

Than those that in the Moon made war,
To find so admirable a hint,

་

When they had all agreed t' have seen 't,
And were engag'd to make it out,
Obstructed with a paltry doubt:
When one, whose task was to determine,
And solve th' appearances of vermin,
Who 'ad made profound discoveries
In frogs, and toads, and rats, and mice,
(Though not so curious, 'tis true,
As many a wise rat-catcher knew)
After he had with signs made way
For something great he had to say;
2 This disquisition

Is, half of it, in my discission 2;
For though the elephant, as beast,
Belongs of right to all the rest,

The mouse, being but a vermin, none
Has title to but I alone;

And therefore hope I may be heard,
In my own province, with regard.

"It is no wonder we 're cry'd down,
And made the talk of all the town,
That rants and swears, for all our great
Attempts, we have done nothing yet,
If every one have leave to doubt,

When some great secret 's half made out;
And, 'cause perhaps it is not true,
Obstruct, and ruin all we do.
As no great act was ever done,
Nor ever can, with truth alone,
If nothing else but truth w' allow,
'Tis no great matter what we do:
For Truth is too reserv'd, and nice,
T" appear in mix'd societies;
Delights in solitary abodes,
And never shows herself in crowds;
A sullen little thing, below
All matters of pretence and show;
That deal in novelty and change,
Not of things true, but rare and strange,
To treat the world with what is fit
And proper to its natural wit;
The world, that never sets esteem
On what things are, but what they seem,
And, if they be not strange and new,
They're ne'er the better for being true.
For what has mankind gain'd by knowing
His little truth, but his undoing,

2 Sic Orig.

Which wisely was by Nature hidden,
And only for his good forbidden?
And therefore with great prudence does
The world still strive to keep it close;
For if all secret truths were known,
Who would not be once more undone ?
For truth has always danger in 't,
And here, perhaps, may cross some hint
We have already agreed upon,
And vainly frustrate all we 'ave done,
Only to make new work for Stubs,
And all the academic clubs.

How much, then, ought we have a care,
That no man know above his share,
Nor dare to understand, henceforth,
More than his contribution's worth?
That those who 'ave purchas'd of the college
A share, or half a share, of knowledge,
And brought in none, but spent repute,
Should not b' admitted to dispute,
Nor any man pretend to know
More than his dividend come to?
For partners have been always known
To cheat their public interest prone;
And if we do not look to ours,

'Tis sure to run the self-same course."
This said, the whole assembly allow'd
The doctrine to be right and good,
And, from the truth of what they 'ad heard,
Resolv'd to give truth no regard,

But what was for their turn to vouch,
And either find or make it such:
That 't was more noble to create
Things like truth, out of strong conceit,
Than with vexatious pains and doubt
To find, or think t' have found, her out.

This being resolv'd, they, one by one,
Review'd the tube, the mouse, and Moon;
But still the narrower they pry'd,
The more they were unsatisfy'd;
In no one thing they saw agreeing,
As if they 'ad several faiths of seeing.
Some swore, upon a second view,
That all they 'ad seen before was true,
And that they never would recant
One syllable of th' elephant;
Avow'd his snout could be no mouse's,
But a true elephant's proboscis.
Others began to doubt and waver,
Uncertain which o' th' two to favour,
And knew not whether to espouse
The cause of th' elephant or mouse.
Some held no way so orthodox
To try it, as the ballot-box,
And, like the nation's patriots,
To find, or make, the truth by votes:
Others conceiv'd it much more fit
T' unmount the tube, and open it,
And, for their private satisfaction,
To re-examine the transaction,
And after explicate the rest,
As they should find cause for the best.
To this, as th' only expedient,
The whole assembly gave consent;
But, ere the tube was half let down,
It clear'd the first phenomenon:
For, at the end, prodigious swarms
Of flies and gnats, like men in arıs,
Had all past muster, by mischance,
Both for the Sub- and Privolvans.

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 vam 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.

Arous, 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:
Tobserve 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
Tattempt so great and glorious a design 1:
[4 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 hotiest 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 domincering Privolvans Have, every summer-season, 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 designs,
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,
Br
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
[pon 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.

From hence may be inferr'd, that, though I grant
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,
Fand 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,
Tpon a full and perfect calculation;

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

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 peep,
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 plainer way, and more significant,
Than all their hints had prov'd o' th' elephant;
And quickly found, upon a second view,
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,