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Contents ( 59)
  1. THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
  2. * * *
  3. JONATHAN SWIFT
  4. *
  5. Contents
  6. *
  7. Introduction
  8. *
  9. The Bookseller to the Reader
  10. *
  11. The Preface of the Author
  12. *
  13. The Battle of the Books
  14. *
  15. The Episode of Bentley and Wotton
  16. *
  17. A Meditation Upon a Broomstick
  18. *
  19. Predictions for the Year 1708
  20. *
  21. The Accomplishment of the First of Mr. Bickerstaff's Predictions
  22. *
  23. Baucis and Philemon
  24. *
  25. The Logicians Refuted
  26. *
  27. The Puppet Show
  28. *
  29. Cadenus and Vanessa
  30. *
  31. Stella's Birthday, 1718
  32. *
  33. Stella's Birthday, 1720
  34. *
  35. Stella's Birthday
  36. *
  37. Stella's Birthday, 1724
  38. *
  39. Stella's Birthday, March 13, 1726
  40. *
  41. To Stella
  42. *
  43. The First He Wrote Oct 17, 1727
  44. *
  45. The Second Prayer was Written Nov 6, 1727
  46. *
  47. The Beasts' Confession
  48. *
  49. An Argument Against Abolishing Christianity
  50. *
  51. Hints Towards an Essay on Conversation
  52. *
  53. Thoughts on Various Subjects
  54. *
  55. A Modest Proposal
  56. *
  57. * * *
  58. Endnotes
  59. *

They rallied next Vanessa's dress;
That gown was made for old Queen Bess.
Dear madam, let me set your head;
Don't you intend to put on red?
A petticoat without a hoop!
Sure, you are not ashamed to stoop;
With handsome garters at your knees,
No matter what a fellow sees.

Filled with disdain, with rage inflamed,
Both of herself and sex ashamed,
The nymph stood silent out of spite,
Nor would vouchsafe to set them right.
Away the fair detractors went,
And gave, by turns, their censures vent.
She's not so handsome in my eyes:
For wit, I wonder where it lies.
She's fair and clean, and that's the most;
But why proclaim her for a toast?
A baby face, no life, no airs,
But what she learnt at country fairs.
Scarce knows what difference is between
Rich Flanders lace, and Colberteen.
I'll undertake my little Nancy,
In flounces has a better fancy.
With all her wit, I would not ask
Her judgment, how to buy a mask.
We begged her but to patch her face,
She never hit one proper place;
Which every girl at five years old
Can do as soon as she is told.
I own, that out-of-fashion stuff
Becomes the creature well enough.
The girl might pass, if we could get her
To know the world a little better.
(To know the world! a modern phrase
For visits, ombre, balls, and plays.)

Thus, to the world's perpetual shame,
The queen of beauty lost her aim,
Too late with grief she understood
Pallas had done more harm than good;
For great examples are but vain,
Where ignorance begets disdain.
Both sexes, armed with guilt and spite,
Against Vanessa's power unite;
To copy her few nymphs aspired;
Her virtues fewer swains admired;
So stars, beyond a certain height,
Give mortals neither heat nor light.

Yet some of either sex, endowed
With gifts superior to the crowd,
With virtue, knowledge, taste, and wit,
She condescended to admit;
With pleasing arts she could reduce
Men's talents to their proper use;
And with address each genius hold
To that wherein it most excelled;
Thus making others' wisdom known,
Could please them and improve her own.
A modest youth said something new,
She placed it in the strongest view.
All humble worth she strove to raise;
Would not be praised, yet loved to praise.
The learned met with free approach,
Although they came not in a coach.
Some clergy too she would allow,
Nor quarreled at their awkward bow.
But this was for Cadenus' sake;
A gownman of a different make.
Whom Pallas, once Vanessa's tutor,
Had fixed on for her coadjutor.

But Cupid, full of mischief, longs
To vindicate his mother's wrongs.
On Pallas all attempts are vain;
One way he knows to give her pain;
Vows on Vanessa's heart to take
Due vengeance, for her patron's sake.
Those early seeds by Venus sown,
In spite of Pallas, now were grown;
And Cupid hoped they would improve
By time, and ripen into love.
The boy made use of all his craft,
In vain discharging many a shaft,
Pointed at colonels, lords, and beaux;
Cadenus warded off the blows,
For placing still some book betwixt,
The darts were in the cover fixed,
Or often blunted and recoiled,
On Plutarch's morals struck, were spoiled.