Stultifera Navis :: :: University of Virginia Library

Say, what is this, a painted butterfly,
Or antic harlequin of motly dye,
What is't that thus disgraceth human nature?
'Tis Adam's progeny in face and shape,
In port and conduct but a very ape ;
A man of fashion: vile, insipid creature!

His speech a lisp, his gaze a vacant stare,
His walk a drawl, and listlessness his air,
While for his manhood he's the taylor's debtor,
With wadded coat and wadded short clothes too,
With tight-lac'd stays, that he may seem to view,
A killing youth—a felon hung in fetter.

What, felon? Yea; but not of common sense;
Purloiner of an ideot's impudence,
For, arm'd with folly loudly he'll bespatter;
Talk of his wench; naught else has he to say:
And fright the subjects on the king's highway,
Who Beth'lem's guest believe him by his chatter.

At night the man of ton, prepar'd for rout,
With op'ra hat and folly tinsell'd out,
Determin'd is thro' thick and thin to dash on,
Splutters forth nonsense, which, with kindred elves,
Passes for wit; because they are themselves
Yoke fellows all, and people of high fashion .

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.

Instil sage precepts in the youthful brain,
Cull ev'ry weed, each dawning passion scan:
Maturity shall well requite thy pain,
And dignify with science rising man.

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS.

Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis,
Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

Indeed there are too many of this description, whose painted cheeks, perfumed linen, blackened eyebrows, and stay-laced shapes, together with affected utterance, disgrace the title of manhood.

Simia quam similis, turpissima bestia, nobis.

Now tell me, ye petit maitres, do ye know your likenesses?

Not only in conversation do these hermaphrodites prove that ex nihilo nihil fit, they have even sometimes the effrontery to set themselves up for men of literature, when they never fail to verify the line of Horace.

Bœotum in crasso jurares aëre natum.

I should advise a revision of the code of laws, instituted for the suppression of public nuisances; among the foremost of which ought certainly to be included these pests of society, whom I would render indictable by men of common sense, subjecting them to the public lash of the ridicule they so richly deserve.

There is nothing very wonderful in this, when we ask the simple question, and hear its solution, Quare facit opium dormire? Quia in eo est virtus dormitiva.

As a convincing proof that the most trivial circumstances will agitate these things—these men of straw, the following stanzas are founded on absolute fact, the despairing youth being one of our refined fashionable literati.

In circles of fashion Sir Saunter was known;
His manners, in all things, were purely his own;
He always was busy with nothing to do,
Wou'd fret if his buckle sat ill on his shoe;
Was nervous and dying, goodnatur'd and easy,
And prattled soft nothings, in order to please ye.

It happ'd on a time, 'twas at Chiswick, they say,
A Duchess gave breakfast at five in the day.
Sir Saunter, of course, 'mid the foremost was seen,
To simper and saunter with all on the green,
Where England's first prince, with a smile on each feature,
Receiv'd ev'ry greeting with cordial good nature.

Sir Saunter then tripp'd to a lady so kind,
O! madam, said he, I've a weight on my mind;
Indeed, now the truth of the matter is this,
I'm only one shade from the regions of bliss;
For had my green coat been but darker one dye,
'Twould have match'd with the prince's as I am like I.