ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Rev. Jonathan Swift
A. V—gh—n, St. John's College, Cambridge, "To Dr. Swift, on reading his Poem call'd the Lady's Dressing-Room" Gentleman's Magazine 4 (August 1734) 447.
Rev. Jonathan Swift:
1690: Sir William Temple
1704: William King
1713: Bp. Francis Atterbury
1713: Matthew Prior
1713: Alexander Pope
1716: Sir Richard Blackmore
1722: Matthew Concanen
1726: John Gay
1729: Thomas Cooke
1732: Rev. Jonathan Swift
1733: Patrick Delany
1733: P. B.
1734: A. V-gh-n
1734: John Sican
1737: Alexander Pope
1739: Edward Lonergan
1742: John Winstanley
1745 ca.: Anonymous
1745: C. B-r
1746: Henry Jones
1750: William Shenstone
1752: Nathaniel Weekes
1755: Robert Lloyd
1758: G. G.
1766: John Cunningham
1772: Rev. John Ball
1773: Samuel Johnson
1776: James Beattie
1782: Rev. Joseph Warton
1782: Rev. Joseph Warton
1783: Rev. Hugh Blair
1784: Thomas Sheridan
1788: A Young Author in Dublin
1796: Thomas Green
1797: William Godwin
1799: Lady Catherine Rebecca Manners
1802: Thomas Dermody
1806: Dr. John Aikin
1807: Robert Southey
1808: Thomas Clio Rickman
1814: Isaac D'Israeli
1814: Sir Walter Scott
1816: Leigh Hunt
1818: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1818: William Hazlitt
1822: Tobias Oldschool
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1826: Richard Ryan
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1846: Denis Florence M'Carthy
1858: Walter Savage Landor
1860: George Gilfillan
1880: Edmund Gosse
1882: Epes Sargent
1734: Rev. Jonathan Swift
Attend ye fair, approve my song,
Shall CAELIA, CAELIA! suffer wrong?
Shall SWIFT expose, detest, defame,
That beauteous sex from whence he came?
Thus have I known your atheists odd
Blaspheme, insult, deny a god,
Without whose kind assistance man
Had never once his course began,
Nor you, sweet DOCTOR, as I ween,
Had ever rose St. PATRICK'S dean.
Your story told, you poem read,
A thousand whimsies fill my head,
I this way now, now that decide,
But nature says — the Poet ly'd.
In CAELIA should those failings be
—Alas what stinking Rogues are we?
For 'twas the man whose fertile side
Gave woman, woman, beauty's pride!
DIANA thus that rules above
Sprung from the lofty head of JOVE.
But here to stop my bold ambition,
Comes partly in a supposition,
Perhaps you'll say the lad has writ
To get a name, or show his wit;
Yet hear me, doctor, without fretting,
"A bastard of your own begetting,"
Whate'er I write, whate'er I say,
'Tis you that point my muse the way,
To thee bright Offspring of the tuneful nine,
Be all the merits, all the failings mine.