 | Poems |  |
194
Mr. LEWIS.
'Tis said that the stars take a peep at our birth,
And give the young bipeds to Bacchus or Mirth,
To Minerva, the Muses, Bellona, or Beauty,
And the predestin'd instrument walks to its duty:
But when Lewis first met this gross world's chequer'd light,
They consign'd the brisk brat to the care of Delight;
Who call'd polish'd Elegance in to assist her,
As the boy met the nymph, and with extacy kiss'd her.—
The volatile particles strew'd in his brain,
Give a vif to his eye, like the froth of champaigne;
Which delectably bubbles commix'd with the liquor,
And makes the full tide of enjoyment run quicker;
Gives our feelings an edge which before was unknown,
And sublimes and new-regulates Sympathy's tone.
And give the young bipeds to Bacchus or Mirth,
To Minerva, the Muses, Bellona, or Beauty,
And the predestin'd instrument walks to its duty:
But when Lewis first met this gross world's chequer'd light,
They consign'd the brisk brat to the care of Delight;
Who call'd polish'd Elegance in to assist her,
As the boy met the nymph, and with extacy kiss'd her.—
195
Give a vif to his eye, like the froth of champaigne;
Which delectably bubbles commix'd with the liquor,
And makes the full tide of enjoyment run quicker;
Gives our feelings an edge which before was unknown,
And sublimes and new-regulates Sympathy's tone.
He exists 'mid the motley retainers of Fiction,
As an instance to reconcile all contradiction;
If unlearn'd, yet that want Judgment cannot upbraid,
His deportment's august, yet his limb's not well made;
His face has its charms in the eyes of the fair,
Yet that face is not form'd with peculiar care;
He commands not by height, yet that height always pleases,
His voice is not good, yet that voice never teazes;
In a word, the fond Graces in concert combin'd,
To conceal half the faults of his body and mind.—
Tho' he oft pleases Truth, yet will Truth oft confess,
He would please her much more, did he—shew his teeth less.
Indiscriminate grins, like professions at court,
Turn the Agents of Reason to objects of sport:
The impulse of each, the observant suspect,
And both lose their value in point and effect—
A comedian's face on the audience should pop,
Like the rubric post of a bookseller's shop;
Where Pope, Swift, and Gay, meet the eye in a range,
And the gazer knows what to expect for his change.
In short, as a herald, our senses to win,
Descriptive of all the best matters within.—
As an instance to reconcile all contradiction;
If unlearn'd, yet that want Judgment cannot upbraid,
His deportment's august, yet his limb's not well made;
His face has its charms in the eyes of the fair,
Yet that face is not form'd with peculiar care;
He commands not by height, yet that height always pleases,
His voice is not good, yet that voice never teazes;
In a word, the fond Graces in concert combin'd,
To conceal half the faults of his body and mind.—
Tho' he oft pleases Truth, yet will Truth oft confess,
He would please her much more, did he—shew his teeth less.
Indiscriminate grins, like professions at court,
Turn the Agents of Reason to objects of sport:
The impulse of each, the observant suspect,
And both lose their value in point and effect—
A comedian's face on the audience should pop,
Like the rubric post of a bookseller's shop;
Where Pope, Swift, and Gay, meet the eye in a range,
And the gazer knows what to expect for his change.
196
Descriptive of all the best matters within.—
In those amblings of manhood, where Fashion decrees
That God's image erect, is offensive to—Ease;
Makes emphasis hateful to drawing-room sense,
And amputates words as a coiner clips pence;
There Lewis embraces the Muse's intent,
And yields the gay minx most extatic content—
He's dramatic noun, which is held undeclinable,
With a je ne scai quoi, that is quite undefineable;
And a talent to bandy a quaint turn of thought,
Which defies education, and cannot be bought;
An odd fascination he borrow'd from Fate,
Which can't be ingrafted, but must be innate;
Like the zest of a damsin that's pleasantly smart,
And makes the lips smack, after eating the tart:
Hence his Marplot, the rage of the critic has stood,
Hence his flippant Mercutio is quoted as good.—
When rank'd with his rivals, their boasting he martyrs,
For he struts like a Titan in Lilliput quarters;
As his compeers walk round him, look up, and revere;
And Lewis seems noble, for pigmies are near.
That God's image erect, is offensive to—Ease;
Makes emphasis hateful to drawing-room sense,
And amputates words as a coiner clips pence;
There Lewis embraces the Muse's intent,
And yields the gay minx most extatic content—
He's dramatic noun, which is held undeclinable,
With a je ne scai quoi, that is quite undefineable;
And a talent to bandy a quaint turn of thought,
Which defies education, and cannot be bought;
An odd fascination he borrow'd from Fate,
Which can't be ingrafted, but must be innate;
Like the zest of a damsin that's pleasantly smart,
And makes the lips smack, after eating the tart:
Hence his Marplot, the rage of the critic has stood,
Hence his flippant Mercutio is quoted as good.—
When rank'd with his rivals, their boasting he martyrs,
For he struts like a Titan in Lilliput quarters;
As his compeers walk round him, look up, and revere;
And Lewis seems noble, for pigmies are near.
If you ask me to name a professional test,
Tho' his Faddle is prais'd, yet his Belcour is best—
It has happened from Bannister up to Kate King,
That their toils, as bucks phrase it, have not been—the thing.
They have wanted that undescrib'd gift half divine,
Which is known to us all, but is hard to define;
And if in some scenes, by a painful attempt,
They have rose 'bove the level of—common contempt;
Yet in spite we've beheld the low vulgaris'd token,
As the bricks oft appear where the plaister is broken:
For 'tis Lewis alone who is capable found,
To scatter with taste Fashion's roses around.—
In arranging the food of the mind for this age,
As the deputiz'd lord of Antiquity's stage;
He deserves from the Muses distinguish'd applause,
For preserving their interests, and loving their cause:
He is active, complacent, wise, vigilant, just;
And fulfils, with strong zeal, his ambition-fraught trust.
By a well-manner'd conduct he marshals the throng,
And kindly reproves where the action is wrong;
Often meliorates errors, deriv'd from his chief,
And alters, by stealth, his false creed of belief;
Supports abject Virtue, depriv'd of her throne,
And feeds the fair nymph in some corner unknown;
Introduces poor Merit, disguis'd, with a sigh,
And calls the youth Folly, suffus'd at the lie;
Binds his principal's brows with Discretion's soft wreath,
And puts gold in his coffers—in spite of his teeth.
Tho' his Faddle is prais'd, yet his Belcour is best—
It has happened from Bannister up to Kate King,
That their toils, as bucks phrase it, have not been—the thing.
They have wanted that undescrib'd gift half divine,
Which is known to us all, but is hard to define;
197
They have rose 'bove the level of—common contempt;
Yet in spite we've beheld the low vulgaris'd token,
As the bricks oft appear where the plaister is broken:
For 'tis Lewis alone who is capable found,
To scatter with taste Fashion's roses around.—
In arranging the food of the mind for this age,
As the deputiz'd lord of Antiquity's stage;
198
For preserving their interests, and loving their cause:
He is active, complacent, wise, vigilant, just;
And fulfils, with strong zeal, his ambition-fraught trust.
By a well-manner'd conduct he marshals the throng,
And kindly reproves where the action is wrong;
199
And alters, by stealth, his false creed of belief;
Supports abject Virtue, depriv'd of her throne,
And feeds the fair nymph in some corner unknown;
Introduces poor Merit, disguis'd, with a sigh,
And calls the youth Folly, suffus'd at the lie;
Binds his principal's brows with Discretion's soft wreath,
And puts gold in his coffers—in spite of his teeth.
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