Analysis of The Dunciad: Book I.
Alexander Pope 1688 (London) – 1744 (Twickenham)
The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings
The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings,
I sing. Say you, her instruments the great!
Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and Fate;
You by whose care, in vain decried and cursed,
Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first;
Say how the Goddess bade Britannia sleep,
And poured her spirit o’er the land and deep.
In eldest time, e’er mortals writ or read,
E’er Pallas issued from the Thunderer’s head,
Dulness o’er all possessed her ancient right,
Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night:
Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave,
Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave,
Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,
She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind.
Still her old empire to restore she tries,
For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies.
O thou! whatever title please thine ear,
Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!
Whether thou choose Cervantes’ serious air,
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais’ easy chair,
Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,
Or thy grieved country’s copper chains unbind;
From thy Boeotia though her power retires,
Mourn not, my SWIFT, at ought our realm acquires,
Here pleased behold her mighty wings out-spread
To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead.
Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne,
And laughs to think Monroe would take her down,
Where o’er the gates, by his famed by father’s hand
Great Cibber’s brazen, brainless brothers stand;
One cell there is, concealed from vulgar eye,
The cave of poverty and poetry.
Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess,
Emblem of music caused by emptiness.
Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down,
Escape in monsters, and amaze the town.
Hence miscellanies spring, the weekly boast
Of Curll’s chaste press, and Lintot’s rubric post :
Hence hymning Tyburn’s elegiac lines,
Hence Journals, Medleys, Merc’ries, Magazines:
Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace,
And new Year odes, and all the Grub Street race.
In clouded majesty here Dulness shone;
Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne:
Fierce champion Fortitude, that knows no fears
Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears:
Calm Temperance, whose blessings those partake
Who hunger, and who thirst for scribbling sake:
Prudence, whose glass presents th’ approaching goal.
Poetic justice, with her lifted scale,
Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,
And solid pudding against empty praise.
Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,
Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day,
Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:
How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,
How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry.
Maggots half-formed in rhyme exactly meet,
And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.
Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes,
And ductile dullness new meanders takes;
There motley images her fancy strike,
Figures ill paired, and similes unlike.
She sees a mob of metaphors advance,
Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance:
How tragedy and comedy embrace;
How farce and epic get a jumbled race;
How time himself stands still at her command,
Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land.
Here gay description Egypt glads with showers,
Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers;
Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen,
There painted valleys of eternal green,
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
All these, and more, the cloud-compelling Queen
Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene.
She, tinselled o’er in robes of varying hues,
With self-applause her wild creation views;
Sees momentary monsters rise and fall,
And with her own fools-colours gilds them all.
’Twas on the day, when
rich and grave,
Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave:
(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces,
Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces)
Now night descending, the proud scene was o’er,
But lived, in Settle’s numbers, one day more.
Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay,
Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day;
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.
Much to the mindful Queen the feast recalls
What city swans once sung within the walls;
Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,
And sure succession down from Heywood’s days.
She saw, with joy, the line immorta
Scheme | AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJXKKHBLLEEMNOOPXXXNNQQXXRRMMSSTTXXUUDDVVPPWWYYZZ1 1 RROOLL2 2 3 3 2 2 4 4 5 5 X GGAXJXVVDD6 6 UUB |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0101000111 0101010111 1111010001 111111101 1111010101 1101011101 11010101001 0101010101 0101110111 110101011 111010101 1011000101 1011111001 11010010101 01001010101 1101010001 10110010111 110101101 111010111 11101100 10110101001 110101101 110111011 11111011 111101001 111111101010 1101010111 11011111 1111110101 0111011101 11011111101 111010101 1111011101 0111000100 1101110101 1011011100 111110111 0101000101 1110101 111101101 11111 1101110 111010111 0111010111 010100111 11001010101 1100101111 1101111111 1100110101 11001111001 101110110101 0101010101 1011011111 0101001101 111010101 110101101 1101010111 1111010101 1111110101 1111011111 1011010101 0111010101 1111110101 0101010101 1101000101 10110101 1101110001 110101011 1100010001 1101010101 1101111001 1111010111 11010101110 1111111010 10011110111 1101010101 010101011 0101010101 1101010101 11111001 1110111001 1101010101 110010101 010111111 11011 101 111011101 1011110101 11111100110 1101001111 1101010111 1100111011 1101010101 1101010101 1001111101 110101011 1101110101 1101111101 010101111 1111011 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,442 |
Words | 736 |
Sentences | 25 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 85, 15 |
Lines Amount | 100 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,736 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 369 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 13, 2023
- 3:41 min read
- 88 Views
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"The Dunciad: Book I." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Oct. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/501/the-dunciad%3A-book-i.>.
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