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CHAPTER 1st.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
Think not that Crispin's meditating mind,
Was e're so silly, bigotted, and blind,
As wish to see such tracts of turf produce
So little fruits for beauty, or for use—
No reasoning Soul could murmur, so misled,
Who wishes all Mankind well-cloth'd and fed;
Nor longs that Man alone, but labouring beasts,
Might find their comforts, and enjoy their feasts.
None touch'd with sympathy, or blest with taste,
Loves barren wild, or drear deformed waste—
Nor longs mere wildernesses still might lie
The scourge of conscious heart, and tutor'd eye.
Earth, in such sterile state, can ne'er afford
Full food for beasts, or bless Man's festal board—
But when Wealth's greedy pow'r, and grasping paw,
Urg'd on by selfishness, and back'd by law—
When lordly Chiefs extend the fatal chain,
To mark exclusive claims o'er all the plain—
When, o'er each heathy height and grassy glade,
Large lots to Competence, and Wealth, are laid,
Should not Compassion point out some restraint,
To lighten labour, and preclude complaint?
Should not some plots for Poverty be found?
Some petty portions of contiguous ground?
Some spots to nurse the progeny of Need?
Where Pigs and Cows, with Families, might feed?
While Goose and Gander stepp'd their small extent,
From pinfolds free, and clear of lease and rent?
Was e're so silly, bigotted, and blind,
As wish to see such tracts of turf produce
So little fruits for beauty, or for use—
No reasoning Soul could murmur, so misled,
Who wishes all Mankind well-cloth'd and fed;
Nor longs that Man alone, but labouring beasts,
Might find their comforts, and enjoy their feasts.
None touch'd with sympathy, or blest with taste,
Loves barren wild, or drear deformed waste—
Nor longs mere wildernesses still might lie
The scourge of conscious heart, and tutor'd eye.
Earth, in such sterile state, can ne'er afford
Full food for beasts, or bless Man's festal board—
But when Wealth's greedy pow'r, and grasping paw,
Urg'd on by selfishness, and back'd by law—
When lordly Chiefs extend the fatal chain,
17
When, o'er each heathy height and grassy glade,
Large lots to Competence, and Wealth, are laid,
Should not Compassion point out some restraint,
To lighten labour, and preclude complaint?
Should not some plots for Poverty be found?
Some petty portions of contiguous ground?
Some spots to nurse the progeny of Need?
Where Pigs and Cows, with Families, might feed?
While Goose and Gander stepp'd their small extent,
From pinfolds free, and clear of lease and rent?
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CHAPTER 1st.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |