The so much talk'd of and expected Old Woman's DUNCIAD.

OR, MIDWIFE's MASTER-PIECE.

CONTAINING The most choice Collection of Humdrums and Drivellers, that was ever expos'd to public View.

BY MARY MIDNIGHT.

WITH Historical, Critical, and Explanatory NOTES, BY Margelina Scribelinda Macularia.

Quos fama recens & celebravit Anus. BARROW.
No Author ever spar'd a Brother; Wits are Game Cocks to one another. GAY.
Out with it DUNCIAD. POPE.

Publish'd pursuant to Act of Parliament, as the greatest Work ever before attempted in any Age, Country, or Language.

LONDON: Printed for THEO. CARNAN, and sold by F. STAMPER, in Pope's-Head Alley, Cornhill; J. ROBINSON, at the Golden-Lion, Ludgate-street; R. WILSON, in Pall-Mall; and at all the Pamphlet-Shops. MDCCLI.

PREFACE

AS there are so many Impostors and Imitators Abroad, it is highly requisite the Public should be satisfied, that this is the true and genuine Dunciad of Mrs. Mary Midnight; to which End I have wrote this short Preface. The Reader, there­fore, is desir'd to attend to me with a little Patience, before he en­ters upon this great and wonderful Work. The extensive Fame our Author has gain'd, by her learned Lucubrations, in all the Courts and Universities in Europe, has excited many (who have, by some Means or other, met with some of her Fragments) to vend among them their Heaps of Trash in her Name; but it is hop'd the World will do her the Justice, to think she is not the Author of such poor paul­try, wishy, washy, shim-sham Performances.

To reward, among many others, the Authors of such Proceed­ings in a Manner due to their Deserts, Mrs. Midnight has design'd and executed this Work; but, as an Affair of so much Consequence could not but get Air in the World, several of these, who were cons­cious of their Guilt, applied to her to be excus'd a Place; or, in other Words, to be left out of her Dunciad: Among which came the celebrated Pentweazle, and meanly offer'd her five Guineas in part, on Subscription to her Miscellany of Poems, to be publish'd some Time in February next. But Mrs. Midnight being above any mercenary View, was deaf to all Overtures, however considerable, of this kind: Upon which, with their usual Assurance, her Enemies ad­vertis'd even this intended Work, the Old Woman's Dunciad, in her's and in my Name, intending to impose some Trumpery or other on the World, before this Poem could appear; and, with the most consummate Impudence, put out Advertisements against the fictitious [Page] Imitators of Mrs. Midnight's Works, to out-face, if possible, the very Truth itself. But we have, thro' a surprising Quickness of Ge­nius, peculiar to our Author, anticipated their Designs, to their utter Confusion: Since the World will, by reading the following Work, be convinc'd of the genuine and elevated Spirit of Mrs. Midnight, and will not, for the future, be so easily impos'd on. I shall just add a Word or two on our Author's Character in general, and on this Work in particular. As to Mrs. Midnight's Reputation as an Au­thor, notwithstanding she has made herself known but lately under that Name, yet it has been very extensive, under the more general one of Old Woman; she having had the principal Hand in most of the Performances that have been wrote within these few Years past; all which have been infallibly known by the Critics, who upon Peru­sal of them, have immediately laid them down, and crying out, the Author's an Old Woman; intimating thereby their Knowledge of her Works, and her establish'd Reputation that rais'd them above Criti­cism. As to this Poem in particular, the Publick can never enough acknowledge the Obligations they owe her, in these Improvements of our Language; which, however, fall vastly short of what she pur­poses to do, having selected several thousands of the most curious and copious in the * Gemerian or Welch Tongue, which will far exceed any Embellishment whatsoever drawn from the Greek or Latin.

MARGELINA SCRIBELINDA MACULARIA.

THE Old Woman's DUNCIAD.

O Thou, whatever Title to thine Ear,
Whether Tom Jones, Joe Andrews, or what not,
Sound pleasing: thou, to my aspiring Song
Indulgent smile, while to high Pindus Top, 1
[Page 4]Apex excelse! I volitate, nor frown 5
Elenthical. Of Dunces, and the Tribe
Of Nose-obesate, atramental Sons
I sing: nor PHOEBUS call, but to my Aid
Invoke MELPOMENE, of all the nine
My chief, best Patron; and THALIA, thou,10
Haste thee from Avon's Banks, nor cull more Flow'rs
For Shakespear's Wreath: but help t' assist my Flight; 2
[Page 5]For high on Pegasean Wing, I mean
To soar velocitate. O swifter far
Than fleet the winged Atoms in the Air,15
When Auster its Euroclydon dilates:
Or when pervading Night excessive pours
The Twilight dun; with archimagic Art,
(A thrice repeated Charm by Hecate taught!)
The Dame venefic, on a Virgult borne,20
Or courser stramentitious, Aether Wings.
Thanks to the Power of Verse! lo! now I soar
And lo! the House of Dullness is in view
See tow'ring Paul's eeclesiastic Dome
Its Head rears altitudinate: O far 25
The meaner emulating Tribe above
Of Spires parochial: so fam'd Cambria's Hills.
Like Alps on Alps, Pelion o'er Ossa pil'd 4
[Page 7]High as Olympus, lose in airy Height
Their Heads; as antient as the Pen of Time.30
There is a Cave fast by the House of Pray'r,
Where Hebetudo dwells; so low its Site,
That it may merit well speluncal Name.
Its vestibule that gulphy Influx near,
Where the Colluvian Current pouring on,35 5
[Page 8]Rushing sonorous Falls the hoarse Cascade,
Th' illucid Lapse adown, with Torrent thick
Regurgling lutulent. The Cave within
The torpid Wretch, by igneal Glimmer seen. 6
[Page 9]With Succubus Canidia, by that Name 40
If rightly she be call'd, sit hov'ring. So
In culmiferous Fields or frondose Woods,
With all their Opulence and native Worth,
Th' Egyptian Tribe itinerant repose
At prandial Noon, and dire mundungus Fume:45 7
[Page 10]So they the lov'd Nicotian masticate,
Or thro' Shiptonian Syrinx it inhale,
Fumifical: while in her better Hand
The Goddess a Pyxidicule sustains,
And Autographs and Schedals grace her Right.50
Her daily Lucubrations! Thoughts prelaute!
Thoughts which her meditative Owl inspires. 8
[Page 11]For he, the Sodale of her studious Hours,
Sung ululatious; contemplating deep.
Bright Contemplation! dignate of himself!55
Illustrious Son of Hebetudo's Race!
O all ye num'rous Tribe, who in her Cave
Delight to dwell; of you the Muse shall sing.
The Verse as a Mnemosynum accept,
And erst with poplicolal Hand repay.60
Within this sacred Cave where Hebes dwells,
In this her sluggish Pomp, her Sons attend;
Each to the nodding Head and beck'ning Eye
Obsequious. Chief, sapient Bubo first
Stands pendent; in his mounted Carcer held 65
Restrictive. Here he genders Thought on Thought,
As 'tween his Nods meditabundate, Want
And Hunger gaunt awake his bardate Soul.
Ah Miser those who fall in Dulness snare!
More fatal hers than Circe's Charms of Yore,70
Which porcufied Ulysses vagrant train!
Say, Muse, how Ebenezer, by her Pow'r,
From human Frame into bubonic Form
Fell metamorphos'd (so Ascalaphus.
Son Acherontic! by rag'd Proserpine 75
Was verted hapless) once solertial Smart, 10
[Page 14]He laugh'd and sung; e'er yet Canidia curst,
Her macerated Corps in Sacell laid;
Where, in the Form of Vacuum, she dwelt,
And banish'd ev'ry Golden, Rhyming Thought.80
Just then, in fatal Hour grave Hebes woke,
And in her leaden Hand a Crustule bore: 11
[Page 15]Charm more coercive to th' inedial Goût,
Then noctial Incantation of an Hag,
Than orient Tal'sman or mysterious Cast.85
By learn'd Genethliac made. Ah! luckless! Ah!
He took and eat; and from that Moment sunk
Mancipial Immolation to her Will.
And now, whene'er the Coenal Hour is nigh,
Behold her potent Wand, her Paxil, waves
And he, in Cell sublime, a Bird of Night,
Screams hideous, or, in Dormitation mounts
Aquiline Wings, and in Etherial Space
Builds castral Edifices: Or he's pent,
[Page 16]In Shape Mustelar, to the Goddess' Use
Subservient; or, perverted into Form
Anicular, he verrates coenal Trash.
With miscellaneous Art; cracks kernell'd Nuts 12
[Page 17]Or mumbles Grace twice o'er; and grinning shews
His toothless Gums. Ah void of Pow'r to hurt!106
Next him, as next in Erudition taught,
From Oxon's fam'd Gymnasial lo! he comes;
For whom, on Isis' Banks, first founding Fame
The Student's, Honour, circumclangor'd wide
With Buccination: metamorphos'd now,105 13
[Page 18]Behold him into a Monedule turn'd,
Rostrate th' ingenial Cloac: Labour vile!
Or, in Theristral, femininely clad,
Assist the Trump of Fame debilitate
With Garrulations; while sage Bubo dreams 110
Of Domes Chimaeric; Domes too dearly bought!
For here no stipend Earth, nor Art piles up
The sculptur'd Stone, nor glow enflaming Kilns. 14
[Page 19]To dense the conculated Clay; and yet
For this, he shares the Cibals of the Day.115
The next Inhabitant of Hebes Cave!
Third fav'rite Son! Frigidio calls my Song,
Whose worth thro' Fame's loud retrovent respires.
Behold, with gloomy Brow, contracted Frown,
In hypocondriac cephalalgiac vext,120
He sits contristate; manducating Thoughts 15
[Page 20]In vaccal Rumination; for alas!
Pollution braccial, oviparous Care
Him deep affects. O say, celestial Muse,
From what fell Cause this cacatural Woe 125
Her darling Child befell. So will'd the Fates,
That in accursed Hour, on vile Intent.
Smack'em, a hostile and mischievous Wight,
Enter'd this Cavern of Cimmerian Gloom, 16
[Page 21]And, with Combustion dire, he mouthed out 130
Verbose, stentorian Execrations, big
With Fate portentous and terrific Wrath.
Frigidio shiver'd with gelatic Fear;
And thro' th' intestine Cavern Murmurs roar'd.
Direful Presage of some descending III!135
Which now to fly (but who from Fate can fly?) 17
[Page 22]He festinates precipitate: but lo!
The Lasanon's no more. Fate inbenign!
In Deflagration blazing! see it sink
In Cinefaction. Dire Amazement! ah!140
His Fears irrupt deorsate; while alas!
Distain'd, he sends Effluvias baleful round:
As when the Son of Excrement and Night,
High on his merdose Vehicle uprear'd,
Attaints the Breeze nocturnal: violent,145 18
[Page 23]At first the antiaromatic strikes
The Nose inflating: till by slow Degrees
The ambient Air itself edulcorates,
And in Euthanasy the Stench decays.
O fam'd Carnan, thou Prototype of Curl, 150
Be this thy Fate: the superfluent Pan
T' evacuate, or with thy Hands immers'd 19
[Page 24]In the lutulent Flood, to pict or gild
Thy rubrick Post; till like horreal Valve
It beam refulgent.155
But hark! what Clamours strike the Tympanum 20
[Page 25]Auricular! Remains there ought as yet
Amid this Cave within the Muses' lore!
A calamarian Crowd in Limbo lo!
Like the fam'd Naiads, rage, with curved Arm,160
In monomachial War, and cruel Strife.
Those, chiefly, who by Smack'em's potent Hand
Late fell inglorious. Dunciadus, thou
Thou Entity, of universal Fame, 21
[Page 26]Thou greatest Crocodile, and greater yet 165
Illustrious Woodville! Ha! what do I see?
Our eastern Bramin raise his virile Hoar
Most venerable, with each motley Scribe
Magirist, Student, Disputant, what not? 22
[Page 27]Muse shut the Scene, the Soul enslaving Scene 170
Or Hebetudo's potent Wand will make
Ev'n me to nod.
Now is that Work compleat, that mighty Work,
Which dignate in insculptur'd Brass to shine,
Or macrocolum typ'd, so long shall live 175
As the didascal Sage the virgult Shakes
In Vapulations Let no Censor then
Deem this a Song of Folly, or austere, 23
[Page 28]Call it a Cacosyntheton, or me
Stygmatize, with Hyberbation Name.182
But if fond Regard fot modern Verse,
Deserve Exsibilation, or the Frown
Of quaint Derision. If 'tis so let loose,
The Storm of Momus, I can bear it all.

* INTERPRETATION.

O thou, whatever Name sound easy,
Jones, Andrews, or what else may please you;
Do thou look pleasant on my Rhime.
While Pindus Top, high Top! I climb.
[Page 4]Of Dunces, which the Verse supposes
The Sons of Ink with snotty Noses,
I sing: nor call our Rhyming Domine,
But beg my fav'rite Wench MELPOMENE
(My surest Friend of all the Nine)
To lend a Hand to this Design.
And leave, thou, Thaly, Avon's Shore
Nor Rosemary cull for Shakespear more
[Page 5]But help my Trot around Parnassus,
Swift on your ambling Nag Pegasus,
Swifter than scamper Snow or Sleet,
When Seaman's Plague drives on the Fleet,
Or when at Night, by Magic wrought,
Of three times three by Hecate taught,
Witches on Wisps of Straw their Bums stick,
Or ride like Devils astride a Broom-stick.
[Page 6]G-d bless the Muse—I thank her now
I mount and Dullness' Cellar view.
Look where the Church of great St. Paul
Rears up its losty Head so tall,
Above the Parish Churches all.
So notified Welch Mountains high,
Rear up their Heads above the Sky.
Alps, Alps, and Pelion Ossa pile,
The Lord knows how many hundred Mile;
[Page 7]But by the nearest; Guess that's giv'n
Within Hop, Step, and Jump of Heav'n;
Stand, lost in Clouds and Fogs and Rime,
As antient as the Pen of Time.
Now by this Church there is a Cellar,
Where Goddess Dullness is the Dweller;
So very low, that it may well
Deserve the Title of a Cell.
Its Groundfil a Stone's Throw or more,
From where the rushing common Shore
[Page 8]Runs bubbling down the muddy Place,
Roaring with Dirt and Nastiness,
Within this Cellar, scarce discern'd
By Cinders into Embers burn'd,
[Page 9]There hov'ring sits the Humdrum Wretch
With Canid; call'd (if right) a Witch:
As in Corn Fields, or leasy Woods,
With all their Chattles and their Goods,
The wandering Gypsies sit them down,
And smoke their Dinner Pipe at Noon,
[Page 10]So they the dear Tobacco Quid,
Or suck short Pipe, as Shipton did,
While in the Goddess better Hand,
A 'bacco Box is at Command;
And the waste Book of common Place,
And written Sheets her left doth grace,
Her daily Works of Candle Light,
Works which her screech Owl doth indite:
[Page 11]For he, Companion of their Studies,
Was us'd to hoot, to please the Goddess:
In a brown Study always gone,
Oh ever worthy Dullness Son!
O you, whoe'er delight to dwell
Within the Threshold of her Cell;
Of you, the Muse her Song shall tell:
[Page 12]Yet in Remembrance beas the Lay,
And as the Time may serve repay.
Within the Cell where Dullness Lives,
Constant each Son attendance gives;
Let her but nod or wink her Eyes,
Whip, Presto, in a Trice, he flies.
Here, chief, her Owl, sedate and Sage,
Stands hanging, in his mounted Cage:
While Thoughts succeed, in nodding Fits,
As musing in the Dumps he sits,
And Hunger jogs and wakes his Wits.
[Page 13]Unlucky those whom Dullness curses!
Her charms more fatal are than Circe's,
That made, of old, such horrid Work,
And turn'd Greek Sailors into Pork!
Say Muse, how, 'cause it hap'd to please her,
From human Form poor Ebenezer
(For some vile End which she had purpos'd)
Into an Owl was metamorphos'd.
As once was serv'd the tatling son,
Ascalaphus, of Acheron.
[Page 14]Late witty, Smart, he laugh'd and sung;
E'er curst Conidia on him hung,
Who, meagre, in his Pocket crept
And there in form of nothing slept;
Whence ev'ry golden Cross she banish'd,
And ev'n the Sound of Chinking vanish'd.
Then Dullness shew'd, in Hour accurs'd,
Within her leaden Hand a Crust;
[Page 15]More pow'rful o'er the hungry Stomach
Than nightly Charm the Witches do make?
Then eastern Tal'sman or strange Scrawls
On the learn'd Fortune-teller's Walls!
He took and eat—Lord bless my Eyes!
And fell her slavish Sacrifice.
And now, whene'er he wants a Supper,
She waves her pow'rful 'Bacco-stopper,
And he, aloft; a screech Owl, screams!
Or gets into his tantrum Dreams;
Fancies himself an Eagle there,
And raises Castles in the Air;
[Page 16]Or else, into a Weazel Pent,
He serves the Goddess's intent.
Or else, in an old Woman seen,
Sweeps Rubbish for a Magazine.
[Page 17]Cracks Nuts that have been crack'd before,
Or, toothless, mumbles Grace twice o'er.
Next him, who next in Point of Knowledge is,
Brought up in one of Oxon's Colleges,
For whom, on Isis' Banks the Strumpet
Fame founded Student thro' her Trumpet,
Now turn'd into a Jack-daw chatters.
Or in the Jakes of Genius spatters;
[Page 18]Or, drest in Female Petticoat,
Helps Fame to sound a louder Note;
While the wise screech Owl, in Chimaera,
Builds mighty Castles; bought too dear, Ah!
For here no Ground-Rent is requir'd,
Nor Carvers Work to be admir'd,
Nor Glow the Brick-kilns piping hot,
To bake the Clay trod under foot:
And yet by this his Dinner's got.
[Page 19]Next Dullness' third and fav'rite Son,
Frigidio, bids the Verse go on.
Frigidio fam'd, whose great Renown
Fame loudly, farts about the Town.
See, down i' th' Mouth, with Brow contracted,
With Head-ach and the Hip-distracted,
He sits i' th' Dumps; so ruminating
As thoughtless Cows do when they're eating.
[Page 20]For ah! and oh! in filthy Breeches,
An Egg; fresh laid, his Bum bewitches.
For what, O heav'nly Muse! pray tell,
This shitten Curse her Child befell.
So luck would have't, in evil Hour,
Smack'em, a wicked Son of a Whore,
Enter'd the darksome Cave, and told 'em,
He'd make the House too hot to hold 'em.
[Page 21]Roar'd, curst and swore, and play'd the Devil,
Still threatn'ing some approaching Evil.
Just then Frigidio's Blood ran cold,
And down his Guts loud Grumbles roll'd,
That some descending Evil spoke,
Which now (but who can help ill Luck!)
[Page 22]He runs t'avoid. But ah! undone!
He finds the Close-stool Refuge gone.
Amid the Fire behold it blazing,
To Cinders burnt. Ah! most amazing!
Now all his Fears behind burst out,
And he besmear'd, stinks all about:
As when Tom Turdman, on his Cart,
Poisons the Night with filthy Art;
[Page 23]At first we find the spicy Scent
Perfumes the Nostrils violent;
Till the Air cleansing by Degrees,
The gently dying Stink decays.
Thou Type of Curl! O fam'd Carnan!
Be thou the Safeguard of the Pan,
If any future Force attempt it;
And when 'tis full, take care to empt it,
Or dip thy Fingers in the Flood,
And paint and gild with native Mud.
[Page 24]Until thy rubrick Post, so fine,
Shall like a shitten Barn-door shine.
But hark! what Noise is this I hear?
What else remains that's Worth my Care?
[Page 25]A Crowd of Scribblers yon, in Limbo,
Like Oyster Nymphs, with Arms a-kimbo,
Lunge with sharp-pointed Pens, as cruel
As pale-fac'd Beaux do in a Duel.
Those chiefly who of late, notorious
Knock'd under Smack'em's Arm inglorious,
Dunciadus, Entity, whose Name is
So universal, and so famous
[Page 26]Thou Crocodile by Name and Nature,
The greatest, and thou Woodville greater.
But who the Duce! marry and Amen!
Our Eastern venerable Bramin!
Old Father grey Beard's whiten'd Locks
'Mong Students, Disputants, and Cooks.
[Page 27]Muse shut the Scene▪ and drop the Curtain,
Or, even, I shall sleep for certain.
Now is that mighty Work compleat,
That should, on Brass, be 'graven neat
Or printed on the Royal Sheet:
Where lasting Worth shall be admir'd
Till Masters are with Flogging tir'd,
Then let no snarling Critic dream
A Trump'ry-Ballad is my Theme,
[Page 28]Or call (because they think they're wife)
This Fustian; me, a Fustianizer;
But if a Love for modern Verse
Deserve th' unluky Play'rs Curse;
Or to be laugh'd at be its Merit.
Laugh and be pox'd, for I can bear it.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.