Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poets of old, with force and fire,
From Ovid down to Matthew Prior;
In varying verse, and motley page,
Have sung about the golden age;
But none have been so wond'rous kind,
To tell us how that age declin'd:
I see the curious wish to know it,
List to a tale, and I will show it.

In such an age, a guileless twain,
Roger and Sue, illum'd the plain;
Unbred in academic schools,
They follow'd Reason and her rules;
In all the paths of prudence trod,
And lov'd their friend, and fear'd their God.
Then Freedom rov'd the mountain's side,
And Innocence was all their pride;

No sadd'ning love-lorn maiden then,
Bemoan'd the perfidy of men;
For Virtue bless'd the rural throng,
Inform'd their hearts, and fed their song.
No vicious tenets broke their rest,
(Like missives from the peevish east,
Blighting the wholesome rip'ning ear)
Or laid the basis of a tear.
The dirty passions of the mind,
Were then subdu'd, controul'd, confin'd;
Pale Fear, and all her haggard train,
That generate and nurture pain,
And each unwelcome mental guest,
Lay dormant in the human breast;
No Cypress then deform'd the brow,
Or mourning willow noted woe;
Or broken oaths made maids forlorn,
For Woe and Vice were then unborn;
Their lives unchoak'd with baneful weeds,
Pass'd in a change of worthy deeds;
The sacred commerce fixt and known,
Supreme delight was all their own.

In terror lest the rural brood,
Of human kind should grow too good;
The Devil his ministry suborning,
Peep'd thro' the loop-holes of the morning;
Survey'd their pleasures with a sigh,
And sent his imps to teach a lie.

The Lie! ah me! at length crept in,
And introduc'd the suite of Sin!
Now Truth and Nature liv'd as foes,
And towns from villages arose;
Society became refin'd,
And Madness shar'd with Mirth the Mind;
Then Priests and Penitents were made,
And sweet Religion grew a—trade.
Still Roger liv'd in decent credit,
His heart was good, for Virtue fed it;
But wealth flow'd in, then cares encreas'd,
And wants and wishes seldom ceas'd.
Sue and her mate could yet be happy,
And drink with glee their jug of nappy;
They danc'd, they sung, they told a tale,
And mirthful, quaff'd their home-brew'd ale;
Cheer'd with their smiles the wayworn swain,
And banish'd ev'ry wretch's pain;
To orphan want they op'd their door,
And pitied all the vagrant poor;
With holy zeal their alms were giv'n,
And trod a path that led to heav'n.

Tho' Roger felt the stings of care,
The De'il resolv'd to stop not there;
In cruel haste he hurried down,
To live in the next market town;
Assum'd the name of Andrew Burney,
And rush'd in life the—first Attorney.

From his soul loins, by Sin befriended,
The present horrid race descended;
He then display'd his baneful art,
To teaze the head and break the—heart.
The fangs of Infamy reveal'd,
And op'd those sores that Time had heal'd.
Those wounds of ancient rancour rented,
Which Friendship long before cemented;
Renew'd the breach 'twixt Sire and Son,
Till Discord thro' the parish run;
Taught toothless dames to bring their action
For empty malice and detraction;
With capias and certiorari,
He play'd them many a damn'd figary.
To comfort Vice, and cherish Knavery,
Coerc'd poor Equity in slavery;
Chain'd her in adamantic bands,
O'erthrew her rights, and seiz'd her lands;
Prostrate and sangless left the law,
And hid its stings, but shew'd its flaw;
Then infant Fraud began to strengthen,
And serpent Sin to live and lengthen;
As Falshood toil'd, but never jaded,
The pride of human nature faded;
Illustrious Virtue, endless shame,
Became the whistling of a name.

As Andrew hail'd the swift progression,
And smooth'd the forehead of Transgression,
Then Courts were rais'd, and Lawyers fed
On Widows tears and Orphans bread;
Sophistication rul'd the hour,
And Honor kiss'd the rod of Power;
Then Britain's rough ingenuous youth,
Were train'd in arts to murder—Truth.
In mystic garb, t'envelope right,
And hide the fact in shades of night;
To fish for fools by specious wooing,
And draw the wretched to their ruin.

To answer all his private ends,
The Devil had his stedfast friends;
He always carried two about,
Both sinewy dogs, well made and stout;
Redoubted enemies, I trow,
Were Johnny Doe and Richard Roe.
Like Mancha's Knight, or Warwick's Guy,
Their terrors made whole hamlets fly;
When honest yeomen prov'd ungracious,
He flogg'd 'em with a fieri facias;
To answer wily Andrew's needs,
He laid his thumb on bonds and deeds;
In iron chest he kept them bound,
At least ten fathoms under ground;
But when they'll see the light, who'll say?
Why those who cheat the Devil may.

By this sly trick he touch'd their pelf,
And kept his clients to himself.
Tho' goaded thus by Law and Theft,
A little honesty was left;
Still Virtue had a sickly charm,
To stop 'em in the road to harm.
The village lighted by her beam,
Avoided guilt in the extreme.
Their moral good the Devil saw,
And strove to damn it with a flaw;
Refin'd away the Vicar's text,
And Solomon's best saws perplext:
As woodmen level forest trees,
He undermin'd, by slow degrees.
First he laid siege to their Content,
Then gave a blow—and down it went;
Next at their Faith, his skill he tried,
By whisp'ring doubts that fed their pride;
The nymph grew weary of mankind,
And fled, but left Remorse behind.
Elate he saw their joys decrease,
And, last of all, he murder'd—Peace;
To rule the breast on its privation,
He substituted—Litigation.

Touch'd by the hellish dire infection,
Weak Roger su'd, and brought his action,
His neighbour, at the break of morn,
Walk'd thro' a field of Roger's corn.

The meek defendant meant no ill,
The plaintiff had his wealth at will;
His bosom tir'd of contentment,
Conceiv'd the seeds of base resentment.
The Devil shew'd him where to bite him,
And Roger bid the De'il indite him;
Andrew, by Fate decreed to hate us,
Prepar'd the shocking apparatus.
The lowly wretch, by Pow'r subdu'd,
Bemoan'd his wife and little brood;
Who strove to soothe the good man's cares,
And damp'd his prison with their tears.
For thirteen weeks, so law ordains,
The poor despoiler lay in chains.
The Spring Assize at last came round,
When manacl'd, and starv'd, and bound,
The peasant, hanging both his ears,
Was brought to trial by his peers;
The Court of Justice op'd her doors,
And crows and ideots throng'd in scores.

Two learned Serjeants, Bull and Bear,
Defended Roger's cause with care;
By legal nonsense, apt tautology,
And senseless stupid phraseology;
'Twould fill a volume but to teach,
How they defil'd the use of speech,
Bullied the worthy and the humble,
In hope their love of truth would stumble:

At length the wisdom of the Judge,
Saw thro' the veil of Roger's grudge,
He shook his head, explain'd the laws,
And quick discharg'd the shameful cause.
Roger, with rage, and grief to boot,
The Devil damn'd, and lost his suit.

Oppress'd by doubt, with awkward stare,
The clown thus question'd Serjeant Bear:
Waunds, maister Serjeant, by the Lard,
You fought the battle wond'rous hard;
Defendant's laryor in my moind,
Was not in scolding much behoind;
Nay, once you seem'd such deadly foes,
I thought, ecod, you'd come to blows.
Ah, Roger, t'other made reply,
With keen derision in his eye,
Our strife was harmless, quit your fears,
'Twas only like a taylor's sheers.
Odds heart, friend Serjeant, why like sheers?
Cried Roger, scratching both his ears:
The Law's black son, with strong disdain,
Thus sated Roger's curious vein;
Though now with vehemence and pother,
We seem'd t'excoriate each other;
The sight deceiv'd—tho' thus you've seen us,
We cut but that which comes between us.”

Depress'd, reflecting, and bemir'd,
Roger from law and strife retir'd;
He shook his head, and, what was worse,
Walk'd to his home with empty purse;
And Roger's suit was ever after,
The food of universal laughter.

I would not wish to be understood as including the whole profession in this censure, as I know several individuals remarkable for their honor, truth, and humanity.