The
Proclamation
of
APOLLO
.
MAY
Artemisia
hear
my
Strain
,
I
quote
the
Sages
once
again
:
And
shou'd
you
ask
the
Reason
why
,
"
Old
Authors
fib
,
and
so
may
I
.
"
Proceed
we
then
—
Old
Authors
say
,
Apollo
once
made
Holiday
,
And
call'd
the
Brethren
of
the
Quill
,
To
feast
upon
his
tuneful
Hill
,
From
ev'ry
Nook
and
ev'ry
Wind
:
They
came
,
for
who
wou'd
stay
behind
?
Great
was
the
Crowd
,
as
may
be
guess'd
:
Side
grew
to
Side
,
and
Back
to
Breast
,
Till
the
Imperial
Prince
of
Song
,
Who
fearing
something
might
be
wrong
,
Sent
forth
a
Troop
with
Caps
and
Spears
,
Much
like
Parnassian
Granadiers
,
With
surly
Eyes
and
sour
Faces
,
To
part
the
Crowd
and
give
'em
Places
.
Now
I
have
quite
forgot
,
I
fear
,
What
Names
the
People
gave
'em
there
Amongst
the
Muses
—
But
I
trow
Men
call
'em
Criticks
here
below
.
Now
when
at
last
these
sage
Reformers
,
Had
drove
the
Crew
to
Heaps
and
Corners
,
They
call'd
them
out
by
two
and
three
,
And
set
'em
in
a
due
Degree
,
That
each
his
proper
Place
shou'd
know
,
On
Laurel
Benches
all
a-row
.
Now
you
may
think
they
all
were
happy
,
As
Drunkard
o'er
his
Jug
of
Nappy
,
That
ev'ry
Brow
was
smooth
and
clear
,
But
first
I
beg
you'd
lend
an
Ear
:
The
Queen
of
Love
to
grace
the
Feast
,
Had
sent
a
thousand
Pipes
at
least
Of
smiling
Nectar
neat
and
fine
,
To
whet
the
Guests
before
they
dine
:
But
when
the
Cups
had
walk'd
about
,
Some
surly
Bards
began
to
pout
,
And
wrinkle
up
their
tiny
Faces
,
And
fret
and
fume
about
their
Places
:
Their
giddy
Brains
began
to
glow
,
Each
thinking
he
was
plac'd
too
low
:
This
vow'd
to
make
all
Creatures
fear
him
,
And
That
cou'd
bear
no
Creature
near
him
.
One
seem'd
to
talk
with
mighty
Spirit
,
Of
baffl'd
Worth
and
slighted
Merit
:
Another
was
in
Passion
hurl'd
,
And
curs'd
the
stupid
senseless
World
,
Till
Choler
swell'd
in
ev'ry
Vein
,
And
each
no
longer
cou'd
contain
,
But
fairly
went
,
as
I'm
a
Sinner
,
To
Loggerheads
before
their
Dinner
.
Apollo
was
offended
quite
,
And
all
the
Muses
in
a
Fright
:
Then
thunder'd
out
a
Proclamation
.
"
O
Ye
—
And
all
the
rhiming
Nation
,
"
Our
King
commands
you
to
be
still
,
"
And
not
disturb
the
sacred
Hill
.
"
If
some
refusing
to
be
quiet
,
"
Shall
dare
to
aid
this
lawless
Riot
:
"
The
Statutes
of
Parnassian
tender
"
The
Stocks
to
ev'ry
such
Offender
.
"
At
this
the
Riot
seem'd
to
cease
,
"
And
with
a
murmur
sunk
in
Peace
:
"
When
all
was
silent
to
a
Man
,
"
Again
the
Herald
thus
began
.
"
Directed
by
your
Prince
I
bring
"
This
Message
from
the
laurel'd
King
,
"
Who
long
has
view'd
with
silent
Woe
"
Your
Quarrels
in
the
World
below
,
"
How
moral
and
satirick
Wits
"
And
jingling
Pedants
—
Rhiming
Cits
,
"
The
gay
,
the
empty
,
and
the
full
,
"
The
soft
,
the
froward
,
and
the
dull
,
"
Wage
endless
Wars
with
one
another
,
"
And
ev'ry
Blockhead
hates
his
Brother
.
"
But
while
you
take
a
world
of
pains
"
In
pelting
at
each
other's
Brains
;
"
While
Envy
swells
the
little
Mind
,
"
You
ne'er
consider
that
you
find
"
(
To
see
you
in
the
Tempest
hurl'd
)
"
Diversion
for
the
laughing
World
;
"
And
so
you
break
all
moral
Rules
"
To
grow
the
Mocking-stock
of
Fools
:
"
But
now
Apollo
begs
you
will
"
Suspend
your
Quarrels
,
and
be
still
.
"
Let
Wits
shake
Hands
with
one
another
,
"
And
ev'ry
Dunce
embrace
his
Brother
,
"
From
batter'd
Bards
with
ne'er
a
Shoe
"
To
those
who
strut
about
with
two
;
"
From
Poets
doom'd
to
whittle
Sticks
,
"
To
Rhimers
in
a
Coach
and
Six
.
"
Let
none
presume
to
fret
and
squabble
,
"
Nor
curse
the
dirty
rhiming
Rabble
:
"
For
see
the
Beams
of
Phoebus
strike
"
The
Meadows
,
Hills
,
and
Dales
alike
:
"
So
shines
the
Muse
on
ev'ry
Creature
,
"
Who
tags
his
humble
Lines
with
Metre
.
He
said
—
The
Children
of
the
Bays
Sent
up
a
Shout
of
mingled
Praise
,
Devoutly
promising
to
pay
Obedience
to
the
Prince
of
Day
;
And
now
they
see
the
Tables
spread
With
Dainties
and
Parnassian
Bread
,
Whose
tiny
Loaves
were
nicely
white
,
And
no
French
Rolls
were
half
so
light
:
The
first
bold
Course
was
brought
along
In
Dishes
made
of
Homer's
Song
.
Next
Virgil
on
the
Table
shines
,
And
then
smooth
Ovid's
tender
Lines
.
The
gay
Desert
expos'd
to
view
,
Of
modern
Authors
not
a
few
,
Heroicks
in
the
midst
preside
,
With
Elegy
on
either
Side
:
Here
through
transparent
Sonnets
gleam
Whip-Syllabubs
and
spiced
Cream
:
There
loaded
Epigrams
appear
,
And
little
Mottos
close
the
Rear
.
Now
Dinner
past
their
jolly
Souls
,
Cut
Capers
to
the
Nectar
Bowls
,
Till
ev'ry
Bard
had
drank
his
fill
,
And
then
they
left
the
tuneful
Hill
.
But
ere
they
part
,
the
laurel'd
King
,
Extracted
from
a
wond'rous
Spring
A
magick
Bath
of
mighty
Pow'r
,
Whose
Virtues
could
in
half
an
Hour
Make
Proof
against
sharp
Satyr's
Pain
,
The
Fibres
of
a
Dunce's
Brain
;
And
give
him
Confidence
to
push
Through
the
broad
World
without
a
Blush
.
Apollo
next
upon
the
Crew
,
Bestow'd
a
Grey-goose
Quill
or
two
,
With
Ink
that
into
Metre
runs
,
And
charms
against
the
Fear
of
Duns
.
This
done
dismiss'd
'em
,
as
before
,
With
Sirs
,
your
Servant
,
and
no
more
.