Oliver Newman A New-England Tale (Unfinished): With Other Poetical Remains. By the late Robert Southey |
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 | Oliver Newman |  |
“It is a madness which the world will cure,”
Leverett, the Governor, said, “too soon, be sure.”
Randolph had risen to leave him, when the youth
Enter'd the Governor's door. “Come, let me play,”
Quoth he, “the usher!” in his wonted way,
Mingling with sportive speech sarcastic truth.
“Your Excellency here beholds the Man!
The Quaker-Church of England-Puritan,
Knight-errant, preacher, and we know not what,
So many things he is, and he is not;
A hero, certes, if he would but fight;
A Solomon, if his notions were but right.
Should he into a lion's den be thrown,—
Look at those arms and eyes, and you might swear
That he would act the London 'Prentice there;
But trusting to the mind, forsooth, alone
He'd take the cubs, like lambkins, to his breast,
And, Daniel-like, by faith subdue the rest.
Then for the harder task of savage-quelling
He hath a talent which exceeds all telling.
Two full-bred devilings he has taught to greet him,
And kiss as lovingly as they would eat him;
And he hath bought their mother squaw, to teach
That pleasant lingo the six-nation speech;
Words, which would choke a Dutchman or a Jew,
Dumbfound old Nick, and which from me or you
Could not be forced by ipecacuanha,
Drop from his oratoric lips like manna.
So fine withal his temper proves, that it
Hath borne unhurt the file of my rough wit;
This to his honour I am bound to tell;
Would that he took true counsel half as well!
And now, sir, as your favour may befriend him,
To that in right good earnest I commend him!”
Leverett, the Governor, said, “too soon, be sure.”
Randolph had risen to leave him, when the youth
Enter'd the Governor's door. “Come, let me play,”
Quoth he, “the usher!” in his wonted way,
Mingling with sportive speech sarcastic truth.
“Your Excellency here beholds the Man!
The Quaker-Church of England-Puritan,
Knight-errant, preacher, and we know not what,
So many things he is, and he is not;
A hero, certes, if he would but fight;
A Solomon, if his notions were but right.
Should he into a lion's den be thrown,—
Look at those arms and eyes, and you might swear
That he would act the London 'Prentice there;
But trusting to the mind, forsooth, alone
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And, Daniel-like, by faith subdue the rest.
Then for the harder task of savage-quelling
He hath a talent which exceeds all telling.
Two full-bred devilings he has taught to greet him,
And kiss as lovingly as they would eat him;
And he hath bought their mother squaw, to teach
That pleasant lingo the six-nation speech;
Words, which would choke a Dutchman or a Jew,
Dumbfound old Nick, and which from me or you
Could not be forced by ipecacuanha,
Drop from his oratoric lips like manna.
So fine withal his temper proves, that it
Hath borne unhurt the file of my rough wit;
This to his honour I am bound to tell;
Would that he took true counsel half as well!
And now, sir, as your favour may befriend him,
To that in right good earnest I commend him!”
| Oliver Newman | |