Epistles from Bath Or, Q.'s Letters to His Yorkshire Relations; And Miscellaneous Poems. By Q. In The Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
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| 3. | EPISTLE THE THIRD,
FROM Q. TO HIS UNCLE JOHN.
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 | Epistles from Bath |  |
17
EPISTLE THE THIRD, FROM Q. TO HIS UNCLE JOHN.
Dear Uncle, I know I am very remiss,
For not having sent to you long before this;
But really this place is so charmingly gay,
What with dancing all night, promenading all day—
What with learning each new-fangled air to attain—
What with dressing, undressing, and dressing again,
And flirting with women, and lounging with men,
I have not had leisure to take up my pen.
For not having sent to you long before this;
But really this place is so charmingly gay,
What with dancing all night, promenading all day—
What with learning each new-fangled air to attain—
What with dressing, undressing, and dressing again,
And flirting with women, and lounging with men,
I have not had leisure to take up my pen.
I know that the pleasures we daily pursue
Can boast of but little attraction for you,
Nor will you suppose that the cut of a coat,
Or the shape of a boot can be worthy of note;
But, believe me, this city is very prolific
With learned concerns, and with men scientific.
Each weekly Bath paper is sure to contain
The produce of some philosophical brain,
With many a learned and deep dissertation,
Intended, no doubt, for the good of the nation:
An epistle's the thing—but no matter on what,
Whether having a subject, or having it not;
With versatile powers they easily pass
From sulphur to salts, from princesses to gas;
The pens of the writers are worn to the stumps,
Laying open the claims of aperient pumps:
When steam is exhausted, to heighten the joke,
I next shall expect an epistle on smoke;
To begin upon smoke I would now recommend,
For then where it begins it will certainly end.
Can boast of but little attraction for you,
Nor will you suppose that the cut of a coat,
Or the shape of a boot can be worthy of note;
But, believe me, this city is very prolific
With learned concerns, and with men scientific.
18
The produce of some philosophical brain,
With many a learned and deep dissertation,
Intended, no doubt, for the good of the nation:
An epistle's the thing—but no matter on what,
Whether having a subject, or having it not;
With versatile powers they easily pass
From sulphur to salts, from princesses to gas;
The pens of the writers are worn to the stumps,
Laying open the claims of aperient pumps:
When steam is exhausted, to heighten the joke,
I next shall expect an epistle on smoke;
To begin upon smoke I would now recommend,
For then where it begins it will certainly end.
I subscribe to a library, where I can look
In a new magazine, or a popular book;
And there all the Ladies and Gentlemen sit,
Surrounded by volumes of wisdom and wit;
But the wisdom and wit remain on the shelves,—
They seem not to covet an atom themselves:
The classics are lost on these babes in the wood,
How can they be relished when not understood?
The force of sound argument sets them to sleep.
For shallow capacities prose is too deep,
And poetry, too, no attention can call:—
Duodecimos, quartos, octavos, and all!
And Helicon's stream they untasted condemn,
As Lethe is far better suited to them.
Surveying the bindings, directed by chance,
They dip in a novel, or skim a romance;
Intellectual joys are uudoubtedly felt,
When gazing on vellum, morocco, and gilt;
In a volume in boards no attractions are found—
Verse only can charm, when 'tis charmingly bound.
In a new magazine, or a popular book;
And there all the Ladies and Gentlemen sit,
Surrounded by volumes of wisdom and wit;
But the wisdom and wit remain on the shelves,—
They seem not to covet an atom themselves:
The classics are lost on these babes in the wood,
How can they be relished when not understood?
19
For shallow capacities prose is too deep,
And poetry, too, no attention can call:—
Duodecimos, quartos, octavos, and all!
And Helicon's stream they untasted condemn,
As Lethe is far better suited to them.
Surveying the bindings, directed by chance,
They dip in a novel, or skim a romance;
Intellectual joys are uudoubtedly felt,
When gazing on vellum, morocco, and gilt;
In a volume in boards no attractions are found—
Verse only can charm, when 'tis charmingly bound.
But at present no more of my paper I'll waste
On the tasteless affairs of these people of taste;
May you share all that health and that fortune can give you,
Is the wish of your truly affectionate Nephew.
On the tasteless affairs of these people of taste;
May you share all that health and that fortune can give you,
Is the wish of your truly affectionate Nephew.
Q.
| Epistles from Bath | |