The frugal snail, with fore-cast of repose, Carries his house with him, where'er he goes; Peeps out--and if there comes a shower of rain, Retreats to his small domicile amain. Touch but a tip of him, a horn--'tis well-- He curls up in his sanctuary shell. He's his own landlord, his own tenant; stay Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day. Himself he boards and lodges; both invites, And feasts, himself; sleeps with himself o' nights. He spares the upholsterer trouble to procure Chattels; himself is his own furniture, And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam-- Knock when you will--he's sure to be at home. * * * * * VIII. ON A DEAF AND DUMB ARTIST.[1] [Footnote 1: Benjamin Ferrers--Died A. D. 1732.] And hath thy blameless life become A prey to the devouring tomb? A more mute silence hast thou known, A deafness deeper than thine own, While Time was? and no friendly Muse, That mark'd thy life, and knows thy dues, Repair with quickening verse the breach. And write thee into light and speech? The Power, that made the Tongue, restrain'd Thy lips from lies, and speeches feign'd; Who made the Hearing, without wrong Did rescue thine from Siren's song. He let thee _see_ the ways of men, Which thou with pencil, not with pen, Careful Beholder, down didst note, And all their motley actions quote, Thyself unstain'd the while. From look Or gesture reading, more than _book_, In letter'd pride thou took'st no part, Contented with the Silent Art, Thyself as silent. Might I be As speechless, deaf, and good, as He! * * * * * IX. THE FEMALE ORATORS. Nigh London's famous Bridge, a Gate more famed Stands, or once stood, from old Belinus named, So judged Antiquity; and therein wrongs A name, allusive strictly to _two Tongues_[1] Her School hard by the Goddess Rhetoric opes, And _gratis_ deals to Oyster-wives her Tropes. With Nereid green, green Nereid disputes, Replies, rejoins, confutes, and still confutes. One her coarse sense by metaphors expounds, And one in literalities abounds; In mood and figure these keep up the din: Words multiply, and every word tells in. Her hundred throats here bawling Slander strains; And unclothed Venus to her tongue gives reins In terms, which Demosthenic force outgo, And baldest jests of foul-mouth'd Cicero. Right in the midst great Atè keeps her stand, And from her sovereign station taints the land. Hence Pulpits rail; grave Senates learn to jar; Quacks scold; and Billingsgate infects the Bar. [Footnote 1: _Bilinguis_ in the Latin.] * * * * * PINDARIC ODE TO THE TREAD-MILL. I.