 | Poems (1905) |  |
POETICAL EPISTLES.
[April, 1780.]
378
EPISTLE I. [FROM THE DEVIL. AN EPISTLE GENERAL.]
Ye Mortals, whom Poets with Verses perplex,
Whom Churchmen misguide, and Philosophers vex,
Whose Heads are disturbed with the Tenets of Schools,
Whom Terror betrays, and whom Conscience befools—
From the Regions below, with a Heart full of Love,
I send to my excellent Subjects above,
And, tho' 'tis Advice that now dictates my Strain,
I must freely confess I've no Cause to complain.
Whom Churchmen misguide, and Philosophers vex,
Whose Heads are disturbed with the Tenets of Schools,
Whom Terror betrays, and whom Conscience befools—
From the Regions below, with a Heart full of Love,
I send to my excellent Subjects above,
And, tho' 'tis Advice that now dictates my Strain,
I must freely confess I've no Cause to complain.
With Pleasure I hear, how the Demon of War
Is hurling his blessed Confusion from far,
Has bade the slow Spaniard to Battle advance
And has got a good Footing in England and France.
It delights me to find, the Designs of the Dutch
Are to move for a Peace, but to hinder it much;
For my trusty Disciples of Holland are known
To have no kind of Feeling for aught but their own;
And the Kingdoms around are, as far as I see,
Just acting the Part they have borrow'd from me.
Is hurling his blessed Confusion from far,
Has bade the slow Spaniard to Battle advance
And has got a good Footing in England and France.
It delights me to find, the Designs of the Dutch
Are to move for a Peace, but to hinder it much;
For my trusty Disciples of Holland are known
To have no kind of Feeling for aught but their own;
And the Kingdoms around are, as far as I see,
Just acting the Part they have borrow'd from me.
Nor is it without a great Share of Delight
I find so much wrong is confounded with Right.
Where Justice alone on one Party is clear,
Why, Truth may prevail and a Peace may be near;
But, where Good and Evil are properly mixed,
The Cause is obscure, and Destruction more fix'd;
Since each on the first will rest all their Pretensions,
The latter to stretch to its utmost Dimensions.
I find so much wrong is confounded with Right.
Where Justice alone on one Party is clear,
Why, Truth may prevail and a Peace may be near;
But, where Good and Evil are properly mixed,
The Cause is obscure, and Destruction more fix'd;
Since each on the first will rest all their Pretensions,
The latter to stretch to its utmost Dimensions.
With much Satisfaction, I likewise confess,
I behold so much Deviltry drop from the Press;
But this is a Subject I will not say much on,
Because what hereafter I purpose to touch on.
At present to all, in their several Degrees,
I pay my Respect in such Verses as these;
And, my rough-moving Lines should your Critics condemn,
I shall talk in a much rougher Language to them.
I behold so much Deviltry drop from the Press;
But this is a Subject I will not say much on,
Because what hereafter I purpose to touch on.
At present to all, in their several Degrees,
I pay my Respect in such Verses as these;
And, my rough-moving Lines should your Critics condemn,
I shall talk in a much rougher Language to them.
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Ye Monarchs! Ye Rulers of Nations! attend
To a Ruler, your Equal! the first Monarch's Friend!
Whose Empire at least is as large as your own,
As crowded his Army, as splendid his Throne;
His Spirit as great, and, whatever his Cause,
A greater Obedience is paid to his Laws!
Attend and receive your Instructions from me;
Though a Counsellor famous, I covet no fee;
Prefer me before all your ignoble Tribe—
What Mortal in Black ever acts without Bribe?
To a Ruler, your Equal! the first Monarch's Friend!
Whose Empire at least is as large as your own,
As crowded his Army, as splendid his Throne;
His Spirit as great, and, whatever his Cause,
A greater Obedience is paid to his Laws!
Attend and receive your Instructions from me;
Though a Counsellor famous, I covet no fee;
Prefer me before all your ignoble Tribe—
What Mortal in Black ever acts without Bribe?
Let Empire unbounded your Bosoms possess;
You're as noble as Cæsar, and scorn to be less.
Be your Counsellors such as may aid your Designs—
Good Jockeys, great Gamblers, rare Judges of Wines!
And then, should you happen to fail in your Ends,
Your People may lay all the Blame on your Friends,
And say, “'tis a pity a Monarch so just
Such a pack of damn'd Villainous Fellows should trust.”
You're as noble as Cæsar, and scorn to be less.
Be your Counsellors such as may aid your Designs—
Good Jockeys, great Gamblers, rare Judges of Wines!
And then, should you happen to fail in your Ends,
Your People may lay all the Blame on your Friends,
And say, “'tis a pity a Monarch so just
Such a pack of damn'd Villainous Fellows should trust.”
Nor judge in this Case my Advice is confin'd:
Be it common as Air, and as free as the Wind;
Obey'd in the Climes which Sol scarce can appear in,
Caress'd in the Countries he passes the year in!
Nor would I like him from my Friends fly away:
Wherever I'm courted I constantly stay,
To Spain, France, or Flanders extending my Care,
And England! in spite of my Enemies there.
With its monarch of old I was social and free,
And the Present must die—that's some Comfort to me.
Be it common as Air, and as free as the Wind;
Obey'd in the Climes which Sol scarce can appear in,
Caress'd in the Countries he passes the year in!
Nor would I like him from my Friends fly away:
Wherever I'm courted I constantly stay,
To Spain, France, or Flanders extending my Care,
And England! in spite of my Enemies there.
With its monarch of old I was social and free,
And the Present must die—that's some Comfort to me.
Believe me, my Brethren—for when I advise
I always speak Truth, tho' the Father of Lies—
'Tis a foolish Mistake to imagine Mankind
Were not for their Monarch's good Pleasure design'd.
We know and believe they're as truly his own
As the Farmer's his Beast, or the wheat he has sown;
And he's a most stupid and scandalous Block
Who would not be part of so noble a Stock,
To fetch and to carry, be curried and fed,
As his Master has Work, or his Master has Bread.
I always speak Truth, tho' the Father of Lies—
'Tis a foolish Mistake to imagine Mankind
Were not for their Monarch's good Pleasure design'd.
We know and believe they're as truly his own
As the Farmer's his Beast, or the wheat he has sown;
And he's a most stupid and scandalous Block
Who would not be part of so noble a Stock,
To fetch and to carry, be curried and fed,
As his Master has Work, or his Master has Bread.
Ye Statesmen, I next to your Honours apply:
Ye know the old Subject; ye ken who am I!
I would give each Advice how to act in his Station;
But most have without it entire Approbation.
Nay, let us confess, and give Mortals their due,
We borrow a great many Maxims from you!
And would ne'er have you heed what your Satirists say,
Who expose to the World all your pensions and pay.
Such Wretches, by jealous Emotions betray'd,
Are as knavish as you, and yet never get paid.
Ye know the old Subject; ye ken who am I!
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But most have without it entire Approbation.
Nay, let us confess, and give Mortals their due,
We borrow a great many Maxims from you!
And would ne'er have you heed what your Satirists say,
Who expose to the World all your pensions and pay.
Such Wretches, by jealous Emotions betray'd,
Are as knavish as you, and yet never get paid.
Sejanus politely his Compliments sends,
To show he remembers his very good Friends,
And tells you, with Grief which his Feelings betray,
He hears ye are some of ye veering away.
If this—and there's Reason to fear it—be true,
I'd have ye consider what end ye pursue;
You'll find you've a very bad bargain at last,
Despis'd for the present and damn'd for the past.
To show he remembers his very good Friends,
And tells you, with Grief which his Feelings betray,
He hears ye are some of ye veering away.
If this—and there's Reason to fear it—be true,
I'd have ye consider what end ye pursue;
You'll find you've a very bad bargain at last,
Despis'd for the present and damn'd for the past.
Ye Commons, your Nation's most able Protectors,
Ye generous Elected, ye well-paid Electors,
Your Patron here greets you, and, though but in Song,
He praises the Path ye have mov'd in so long—
A Path he has form'd with such exquisite Care
That it leads you directly, he need not say where.
Ye generous Elected, ye well-paid Electors,
Your Patron here greets you, and, though but in Song,
He praises the Path ye have mov'd in so long—
A Path he has form'd with such exquisite Care
That it leads you directly, he need not say where.
At a Crisis important to Europe and us,
It becomes us, my Friends, to act constantly thus:
To stick to our Cause with a strong perseverance,
Else Nobody knows what may happen a year hence;
For in Times of Disturbance 'tis frequently seen,
That Virtue's more busy than when they're serene;
And, from a good Spirit in brisk fermentation,
A Clear-settled Habit may reign in each Nation;
The which to prevent 'tis my serious Command
You carefully lend each his Heart and his Hand.
It becomes us, my Friends, to act constantly thus:
To stick to our Cause with a strong perseverance,
Else Nobody knows what may happen a year hence;
For in Times of Disturbance 'tis frequently seen,
That Virtue's more busy than when they're serene;
And, from a good Spirit in brisk fermentation,
A Clear-settled Habit may reign in each Nation;
The which to prevent 'tis my serious Command
You carefully lend each his Heart and his Hand.
In England I've studied that People's Condition,
And seen the Contents of each County's petition;
By which I collect, with a Logic my own,
The Seeds of Dissension are properly sown;
And I'm not without Hope but, if suffer'd to grow,
I may reap in due Time what I taught you to sow.
But I'm sorry to find that, in spite of my Care
For that Country's Estate, I've my Enemies there,
Whom though I've attended with studious Skill,
I don't know a people have us'd me so ill.
And seen the Contents of each County's petition;
By which I collect, with a Logic my own,
The Seeds of Dissension are properly sown;
And I'm not without Hope but, if suffer'd to grow,
I may reap in due Time what I taught you to sow.
But I'm sorry to find that, in spite of my Care
For that Country's Estate, I've my Enemies there,
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I don't know a people have us'd me so ill.
Go, Wretches ingrate; see my Subjects in France,
With what excellent skill they my Business advance!
Do they stick to Agreements, or such Kind of Things?
Is there Truth in their Courtiers, or Faith in their Kings?
Their Notions of Honour, or keeping of Treaties,
Are govern'd by that kind of Body their Fleet is;
While you of a Nation I take such Delight in
Are inferior in Fraud, tho' you beat them at fighting.
With what excellent skill they my Business advance!
Do they stick to Agreements, or such Kind of Things?
Is there Truth in their Courtiers, or Faith in their Kings?
Their Notions of Honour, or keeping of Treaties,
Are govern'd by that kind of Body their Fleet is;
While you of a Nation I take such Delight in
Are inferior in Fraud, tho' you beat them at fighting.
Ye Spirits uncurb'd by the Dictates of Schools,
The Lectures of Priests, or Morality's Rules,
Or the pitifull Dreams of the Herd we dispise—
The Puritan dull, and the Prelate precise;
Ye learned Philosophers, Deists devout,
Who know not the Depth of the Thing you're about—
But, I'm willing to own it, 'tis proper you should
And Satan here thanks you: ye've done him much Good.
The Lectures of Priests, or Morality's Rules,
Or the pitifull Dreams of the Herd we dispise—
The Puritan dull, and the Prelate precise;
Ye learned Philosophers, Deists devout,
Who know not the Depth of the Thing you're about—
But, I'm willing to own it, 'tis proper you should
And Satan here thanks you: ye've done him much Good.
Before ye began to reform Men's Opinions,
How bounded my Realm, how restrain'd my Dominions!
But now, since 'tis clear that there's no Revelation,
I've a pretty good Footing, my Friends, in the Nation;
And I'd have you go on with each learn'd Dissertation.
For our firmest Adherents we commonly call
The Man who believes there's no Devil at all;
And, as you so clearly convince your attendants
We're nothing, and all our good Company send hence,
Your learned Opinion, I find as I read it,
Advances my Gain, whilst it shatters my Credit,
As Bankrupts who wilfully plunge into Shame,
To gain in their purse what they lose in their Fame.
How bounded my Realm, how restrain'd my Dominions!
But now, since 'tis clear that there's no Revelation,
I've a pretty good Footing, my Friends, in the Nation;
And I'd have you go on with each learn'd Dissertation.
For our firmest Adherents we commonly call
The Man who believes there's no Devil at all;
And, as you so clearly convince your attendants
We're nothing, and all our good Company send hence,
Your learned Opinion, I find as I read it,
Advances my Gain, whilst it shatters my Credit,
As Bankrupts who wilfully plunge into Shame,
To gain in their purse what they lose in their Fame.
For the learned, the wise, and the deep-sighted Few,
I've an excellent Work which I'd have ye pursue!
Your Genius may mend a dull Devil's Designs,
May alter my Manner, and polish my Lines.
The Scheme is exalted! is quite in your walk;
And I care not in what kind of Language I talk.
'Tis to prove to Mankind, to whom pleasures belong,
Your Moralists, too, as your Pastors, are wrong;
That not to Religion alone is confin'd
Our work, but a full Reformation's design'd;
Till your Country all Kinds of Enjoyment excell in,
And [become] much the Kind of a Place which we dwell in.
I've an excellent Work which I'd have ye pursue!
Your Genius may mend a dull Devil's Designs,
May alter my Manner, and polish my Lines.
The Scheme is exalted! is quite in your walk;
And I care not in what kind of Language I talk.
'Tis to prove to Mankind, to whom pleasures belong,
Your Moralists, too, as your Pastors, are wrong;
That not to Religion alone is confin'd
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Till your Country all Kinds of Enjoyment excell in,
And [become] much the Kind of a Place which we dwell in.
But first you'll my Congratulations receive
For the exquisite Pleasure your arguments give,
Which we hear with a vast deal of Joy and Delight
At Coachmakers' Hall, almost every Night,
And are so entertain'd with the things in that Style
That we'd thoughts of erecting our Houses-Carlisle.
But the Motion was quash'd on a due recollection—
Our good Subjects here ev'ry Party and Sect shun—
That we have the same Constant Business in View,
And can never dissent in opinion like you;
Nor suffer we here any Authors to write;
And to talk of the State, why, 'tis deemed unpolite;
And the Point Revelation, that's banish'd your Creed,
Would not move a Debate where we all are agreed;
Nor have we a Subject which Satan can reckon
Is fit for a Genius among us to speak on.
For the exquisite Pleasure your arguments give,
Which we hear with a vast deal of Joy and Delight
At Coachmakers' Hall, almost every Night,
And are so entertain'd with the things in that Style
That we'd thoughts of erecting our Houses-Carlisle.
But the Motion was quash'd on a due recollection—
Our good Subjects here ev'ry Party and Sect shun—
That we have the same Constant Business in View,
And can never dissent in opinion like you;
Nor suffer we here any Authors to write;
And to talk of the State, why, 'tis deemed unpolite;
And the Point Revelation, that's banish'd your Creed,
Would not move a Debate where we all are agreed;
Nor have we a Subject which Satan can reckon
Is fit for a Genius among us to speak on.
But, by Way of Digression, we can but admire
That your Ladies to argue should cooly desire,
Should one at a Time any Subject discuss:
They ne'er could be brought to that Order with us.
But they still altogether their Subjects pursue
With the Knack which they formerly had among you;
And we marvel that Men of Discretion can teach
To such Lips the all-conquering Graces of Speech!
That your Ladies to argue should cooly desire,
Should one at a Time any Subject discuss:
They ne'er could be brought to that Order with us.
But they still altogether their Subjects pursue
With the Knack which they formerly had among you;
And we marvel that Men of Discretion can teach
To such Lips the all-conquering Graces of Speech!
But my Plan to return to, ye Sages, assist;
Let's our Heads lay together, our Arguments twist,
And prove by the Light we thought proper to kindle
In our dearly beloved, our Toland and Tindal!
With Arguments all unresisted as these,
That men have a right to do just what they please;
And, because I shall chance my own Worth to proclaim,
My Actions, my Spirit, my Merit and Fame,
With Modesty such as you can but approve
I shall speak in the Words of my Vot'ries above.
Let's our Heads lay together, our Arguments twist,
And prove by the Light we thought proper to kindle
In our dearly beloved, our Toland and Tindal!
With Arguments all unresisted as these,
That men have a right to do just what they please;
And, because I shall chance my own Worth to proclaim,
My Actions, my Spirit, my Merit and Fame,
With Modesty such as you can but approve
I shall speak in the Words of my Vot'ries above.
Yet, again to digress: you must never suppose
But even the learned are sometimes my Foes;
Nor is it a volatile Genius alone,
Or eccentric Attempt, that proclaims you my own,
There was Priestley, they told me, had wrote in my Cause,
And publish'd good Things with a deal of Applause;
But 'tis mere Imposition—he scribble for me!
He scrawl in my Favour! No, damn him, not he!
Yet 'tis some Consolation that Blunderers make
His meanings so strange, that they're ours by Mistake.
But even the learned are sometimes my Foes;
Nor is it a volatile Genius alone,
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There was Priestley, they told me, had wrote in my Cause,
And publish'd good Things with a deal of Applause;
But 'tis mere Imposition—he scribble for me!
He scrawl in my Favour! No, damn him, not he!
Yet 'tis some Consolation that Blunderers make
His meanings so strange, that they're ours by Mistake.
And now, having settled the principal Points,
Your Master the Head of his Prophet anoints,
And, judging all Conscience no more in the Way,
Thus bids you to sing, or thus bids you to say.
Your Master the Head of his Prophet anoints,
And, judging all Conscience no more in the Way,
Thus bids you to sing, or thus bids you to say.
“What pictures of Life do the Dogmatists paint!
“What a dull Dissertation comes forth from the Saint!
“How they roar against Sin and contribute to drub
“Every Demon from Earth, both in Pulpit and Tub;
“Enjoyment how plaguily low do they rate it,
“How rail at all Pleasure, and tell you they hate it;
“As Jockeys, designing to purchase your Horse,
“Will assure you no Mortal on Earth has a worse,
“Display ev'ry Failing with exquisite Skill,
“Yet bestride him themselves with a hearty good Will!
“What a dull Dissertation comes forth from the Saint!
“How they roar against Sin and contribute to drub
“Every Demon from Earth, both in Pulpit and Tub;
“Enjoyment how plaguily low do they rate it,
“How rail at all Pleasure, and tell you they hate it;
“As Jockeys, designing to purchase your Horse,
“Will assure you no Mortal on Earth has a worse,
“Display ev'ry Failing with exquisite Skill,
“Yet bestride him themselves with a hearty good Will!
“'Twere well if the Earth had their Censure engross'd;
“But the Devil engages their Spleen to his Cost!
“Poor Devil! from whom half our Blessings accrue,—
“But the Saints give to no one the Qualities due.
“Else, how might they praise without Flatt'ry's Appearance
“His Honour, his Spirit, his known Perseverance;
“How seldom his Friendship's remember'd to alter;
“How he smiles on the Block, and how softens the Halter!
“The Friends to his Cause he with Spirit supports,
“Attends them at Tyburn, conveys them to Courts;
“With noble Profusion gives all he can give,
“And scorns to forsake them, so long as they live;
“In mystery deep, a great Metaphysician;
“In history known, and a rare Politician;
“A merry Companion, yet sage in due Places,
“He knows good Behaviour and studies the Graces;
“Can the Springs of good Humour and Harmony feel—
“Not Stanhope himself could be half so genteel;
“Is the last to disturb them where people are gay,
“And the first to drive stupid Reflection away.
“Then spare him, ye Preachers, without whose assistance
“Your dull Congregations as well were at Distance;
“Retract your Abuse, wheresoever you've spread it,
“And lament your Attack on a Gentleman's Credit.
“But the Devil engages their Spleen to his Cost!
“Poor Devil! from whom half our Blessings accrue,—
“But the Saints give to no one the Qualities due.
“Else, how might they praise without Flatt'ry's Appearance
“His Honour, his Spirit, his known Perseverance;
“How seldom his Friendship's remember'd to alter;
“How he smiles on the Block, and how softens the Halter!
“The Friends to his Cause he with Spirit supports,
“Attends them at Tyburn, conveys them to Courts;
“With noble Profusion gives all he can give,
“And scorns to forsake them, so long as they live;
“In mystery deep, a great Metaphysician;
“In history known, and a rare Politician;
“A merry Companion, yet sage in due Places,
“He knows good Behaviour and studies the Graces;
“Can the Springs of good Humour and Harmony feel—
“Not Stanhope himself could be half so genteel;
“Is the last to disturb them where people are gay,
384
“Then spare him, ye Preachers, without whose assistance
“Your dull Congregations as well were at Distance;
“Retract your Abuse, wheresoever you've spread it,
“And lament your Attack on a Gentleman's Credit.
“Would you know the vile Sources of Sorrow and Grief,
“We're fully persuaded We'll tell you the Chief.
“But, first, 'tis but right we our Talents should use
“To take from the Guiltless a Load of abuse.
“We're fully persuaded We'll tell you the Chief.
“But, first, 'tis but right we our Talents should use
“To take from the Guiltless a Load of abuse.
“Our Moralists tell us, indulg'd Inclinations
“Breed all our Disasters, and nurse our Vexations;
“That Sin, Satan's Daughter, as Milton has told us,
“Has dealt to Mankind all the Plagues which enfold us.
“'Tis false—I acquit her with lenient Sentence;
“The Plagues they describe are the Plagues of Repentance;
“And surely 'tis hard we should blame her for Woes
“She strives to keep from us wherever she goes.
“To bully Devotion and banter her Laws,
“To seduce a Weak Mind, and to plead in the Cause,
“A Friend to betray, or a Father to wound,
“And revel in Folly's fantastical round,
“Are Vices, they cry—but they make a Man known,
“Give Honour, give Pleasure, and Fame and Renown,
“Are Gentlemen's Actions, and Joy must accrue
“From Actions which Gentlemen so often do;
“And, in spite of what Moralists tell us, I find
“The antient Philosophers were of our Mind:
“Who, each in his Way, though to wisdom akin,
“Have labour'd to beautify some kind of Sin.
“Then why should we fear on dull Morals to trample,
“Who're blest with the Boon of such noble Example?
“Breed all our Disasters, and nurse our Vexations;
“That Sin, Satan's Daughter, as Milton has told us,
“Has dealt to Mankind all the Plagues which enfold us.
“'Tis false—I acquit her with lenient Sentence;
“The Plagues they describe are the Plagues of Repentance;
“And surely 'tis hard we should blame her for Woes
“She strives to keep from us wherever she goes.
“To bully Devotion and banter her Laws,
“To seduce a Weak Mind, and to plead in the Cause,
“A Friend to betray, or a Father to wound,
“And revel in Folly's fantastical round,
“Are Vices, they cry—but they make a Man known,
“Give Honour, give Pleasure, and Fame and Renown,
“Are Gentlemen's Actions, and Joy must accrue
“From Actions which Gentlemen so often do;
“And, in spite of what Moralists tell us, I find
“The antient Philosophers were of our Mind:
“Who, each in his Way, though to wisdom akin,
“Have labour'd to beautify some kind of Sin.
“Then why should we fear on dull Morals to trample,
“Who're blest with the Boon of such noble Example?
“To Sickness and cruel Disease are assign'd
“A part of the Sorrows which trouble Mankind;
“But do we not see how Mankind are agreed
“To be sick unto Death when there can be no Need?
“Why faints the soft Nymph? Why the Vapours and Spleen?
“What can Nameless Complaints and Infirmities mean—
“The pain of a Moment, the Headache at will,
“Or the languor that's cur'd without Julep or Pill?
“Why riots the Youth, so unhappily sleek?
“Why poisons the Maid the pure Blood in her Cheek?
“How happens it, Mortals are jumbled together
“Without Care in Crowds and in all kinds of Weather?
“Or why press the Throng at Assemblies so thick,
“If people had not a Delight to be sick?
“A part of the Sorrows which trouble Mankind;
“But do we not see how Mankind are agreed
“To be sick unto Death when there can be no Need?
“Why faints the soft Nymph? Why the Vapours and Spleen?
“What can Nameless Complaints and Infirmities mean—
“The pain of a Moment, the Headache at will,
“Or the languor that's cur'd without Julep or Pill?
“Why riots the Youth, so unhappily sleek?
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“How happens it, Mortals are jumbled together
“Without Care in Crowds and in all kinds of Weather?
“Or why press the Throng at Assemblies so thick,
“If people had not a Delight to be sick?
“What then are the Causes of human Distress?
“Let Pedants and Preachers have Grace to confess:
“There's nothing such varied Disasters can hit
“Like Religion and Virtue, Good Nature and Wit.
“Let Pedants and Preachers have Grace to confess:
“There's nothing such varied Disasters can hit
“Like Religion and Virtue, Good Nature and Wit.
“Religion, what horrid Opinions it starts,
“How it cramps our Ambition, and deadens our Hearts;
“Continually plagues us with Lectures from Heaven,
“And robs us the Year round of one Day in seven;
“Denies to the Passions the Flowers in their Road,
“And carps at the varying Designs of the Mode!
“It teaches few Fashions but such as, we find,
“Have been hiss'd from good Company, Time out of Mind;
“Affords us no rule for the Cut of a Coat,
“Nor winks at the Science of cutting a Throat;
“A tenth of each Man's Cultivation commands,
“And threatens us all in Return for our Lands;
“Still presses the More like a Dun for Neglect,
“And is never contented with civil Respect;
“Intrudes in the Dance, and grows grave in the Song,
“And conjures up Conscience with all her dull Throng.
“How it cramps our Ambition, and deadens our Hearts;
“Continually plagues us with Lectures from Heaven,
“And robs us the Year round of one Day in seven;
“Denies to the Passions the Flowers in their Road,
“And carps at the varying Designs of the Mode!
“It teaches few Fashions but such as, we find,
“Have been hiss'd from good Company, Time out of Mind;
“Affords us no rule for the Cut of a Coat,
“Nor winks at the Science of cutting a Throat;
“A tenth of each Man's Cultivation commands,
“And threatens us all in Return for our Lands;
“Still presses the More like a Dun for Neglect,
“And is never contented with civil Respect;
“Intrudes in the Dance, and grows grave in the Song,
“And conjures up Conscience with all her dull Throng.
“And Virtue—what's Virtue? an obstinate Cur,
“Who clings to a Rock and refuses to stir;
“Whose Lectures on Life are a plague beyond bearing;
“So he snaps at your Heels, till you're quite out of hearing.
“But hearken to him, and he'll tell you the Fancies
“Which please the poor School-Boy in Tales and Romances:
“How he and his Friends have defeated the Crimes
“Of voluptuous Aspirers in horrible Times;
“By Patience and Prating done wonderfull Things
“To Women consumptive, and Death-alarm'd Kings.
“But tell me when Virtue got any Man Pension'd,
“Or procur'd him a Title that's fit to be mention'd,
“Or taught him to talk for the Praise of the Nation,
“Or dictated Themes for a publick Oration?
“Did it ever a Brilliant Assembly advance,
“Or import sound Politeness and Claret from France?
“Not this; but it hobbles in Gait and in speech
“And, laught at by all, is still aiming to teach;
“From the gentle ‘in modo’ will angrily flee,
“But sternly adhere to the hatefull ‘in re.’
“Who clings to a Rock and refuses to stir;
“Whose Lectures on Life are a plague beyond bearing;
“So he snaps at your Heels, till you're quite out of hearing.
“But hearken to him, and he'll tell you the Fancies
“Which please the poor School-Boy in Tales and Romances:
“How he and his Friends have defeated the Crimes
“Of voluptuous Aspirers in horrible Times;
“By Patience and Prating done wonderfull Things
“To Women consumptive, and Death-alarm'd Kings.
“But tell me when Virtue got any Man Pension'd,
“Or procur'd him a Title that's fit to be mention'd,
“Or taught him to talk for the Praise of the Nation,
“Or dictated Themes for a publick Oration?
“Did it ever a Brilliant Assembly advance,
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“Not this; but it hobbles in Gait and in speech
“And, laught at by all, is still aiming to teach;
“From the gentle ‘in modo’ will angrily flee,
“But sternly adhere to the hatefull ‘in re.’
“And what is a properer Object of Satire
“Than that most ridiculous Failing, Good-nature?
“Do you know a Man laugh'd at by all his Acquaintance,
“Despis'd and disdain'd by the People he maintains;
“Too grave for a Wit, and too mean for a Beau;
“A Clown who does nothing as other Men do;
“An Awkwardly-generous, blundering Thing,
“Who stoops to a Beggar and stares on a King;
“A Creature who makes no Distinction at all
“'Twixt a Speech in the Vestry and one in the Hall—
“Leoni who warbles, or Porters who bawl;
“His Heart without Judgment, his Head without Rule
“And, merely for want of Discretion, a Fool;
“Whose Mind with a pitiful Tale is possess'd;
“Who is every one's Friend, yet is every one's Jest;
“Who blunders thro' Life without forming a Plan,
“Is that poor stupid Mortal—a good-natur'd Man.
“Than that most ridiculous Failing, Good-nature?
“Do you know a Man laugh'd at by all his Acquaintance,
“Despis'd and disdain'd by the People he maintains;
“Too grave for a Wit, and too mean for a Beau;
“A Clown who does nothing as other Men do;
“An Awkwardly-generous, blundering Thing,
“Who stoops to a Beggar and stares on a King;
“A Creature who makes no Distinction at all
“'Twixt a Speech in the Vestry and one in the Hall—
“Leoni who warbles, or Porters who bawl;
“His Heart without Judgment, his Head without Rule
“And, merely for want of Discretion, a Fool;
“Whose Mind with a pitiful Tale is possess'd;
“Who is every one's Friend, yet is every one's Jest;
“Who blunders thro' Life without forming a Plan,
“Is that poor stupid Mortal—a good-natur'd Man.
“But of all the vile Things which torment or molest us
“Wit a thousand times worse than the worst of the rest is:
“The Poison [that's] banish'd from every Table,
“As far as the People of Fashion are able,
“To the Bookworms in Schools, and the Grooms of the Stable.
“A Man who has Wit is more proud than the Devil;
“Is never so welcome, is never so civil;
“With Absolute Tenets as stern as the Church's,
“He lashes the failings his wealth can not purchase;
“Is ever awakening his Enemies' Slumber,
“Lamenting his Foes, yet increasing their Number.
“So dirty, no Gentleman cares to go near him,
“And sensible Women don't know how to bear him.
“His Wit is rebellious, and, as a Man's Wife,
“If it conquers him once, 'tis his Master for Life;
“And, though there are things it may chance to produce
“If it takes the right turn of an excellent use,
“Yet, 'tis plain to be seen, it extinguishes Merit
“And dashes the Efforts of Genius and Spirit.”
“Wit a thousand times worse than the worst of the rest is:
“The Poison [that's] banish'd from every Table,
“As far as the People of Fashion are able,
“To the Bookworms in Schools, and the Grooms of the Stable.
“A Man who has Wit is more proud than the Devil;
“Is never so welcome, is never so civil;
“With Absolute Tenets as stern as the Church's,
“He lashes the failings his wealth can not purchase;
“Is ever awakening his Enemies' Slumber,
“Lamenting his Foes, yet increasing their Number.
“So dirty, no Gentleman cares to go near him,
“And sensible Women don't know how to bear him.
“His Wit is rebellious, and, as a Man's Wife,
“If it conquers him once, 'tis his Master for Life;
“And, though there are things it may chance to produce
“If it takes the right turn of an excellent use,
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“And dashes the Efforts of Genius and Spirit.”
But, not to perplex you with tedious Instruction,
I hope this may serve for a good Introduction;
And, leaving the rest of the Business to you,
Beloved and Trusty, I bid you adieu!
I hope this may serve for a good Introduction;
And, leaving the rest of the Business to you,
Beloved and Trusty, I bid you adieu!
EPISTLE II. [FROM THE AUTHOR.]
TO MIRA.
'Tis by Contrast we shine; without Withers and Prynne,
What had Butler or Wits of that Century been?
Or how, without Dunces, had Dryden or Pope
The strength of their great Reputation kept up?
The Pleasures we share from the Dawning of Light
Are doubled by Thoughts of its following Night;
And Virtue and Sweetness like yours shall repay us
For poring so long over Satan's Affairs.
At your Company then do not think to repine:
You the fairer appear—for by Contrast we shine.
What had Butler or Wits of that Century been?
Or how, without Dunces, had Dryden or Pope
The strength of their great Reputation kept up?
The Pleasures we share from the Dawning of Light
Are doubled by Thoughts of its following Night;
And Virtue and Sweetness like yours shall repay us
For poring so long over Satan's Affairs.
At your Company then do not think to repine:
You the fairer appear—for by Contrast we shine.
What a Life, my dear Maid, do the Heavens decree
For the Dreamers of Dreams, for the Learned—for me:
Where pale Disappointment awakes to molest
The Study-vex'd Head, and the Sorrow-torn Breast.
Pity much, though you blame, the dull Spleen of your Swain,
Who has Cause to deplore and, he thinks, to complain:
That Fortune has soil'd the gay Dress of each Dream;
That Time has o'erthrown every fairy-built Scheme;
That thinking has slacken'd the Force of his Nerves,
And his Study has met with—the Fate it deserves.
For the Dreamers of Dreams, for the Learned—for me:
Where pale Disappointment awakes to molest
The Study-vex'd Head, and the Sorrow-torn Breast.
Pity much, though you blame, the dull Spleen of your Swain,
Who has Cause to deplore and, he thinks, to complain:
That Fortune has soil'd the gay Dress of each Dream;
That Time has o'erthrown every fairy-built Scheme;
That thinking has slacken'd the Force of his Nerves,
And his Study has met with—the Fate it deserves.
What a Plague was my Meaning to add to my own
The Cares of a Kind which I need not have known!
When Nature and Fortune had given their Part,
'Twas stupid to borrow Dejection from Art,
And, with Trouble a pretty large Portion before,
To pilfer Perplexities out of her Store.
The Cares of a Kind which I need not have known!
When Nature and Fortune had given their Part,
'Twas stupid to borrow Dejection from Art,
And, with Trouble a pretty large Portion before,
To pilfer Perplexities out of her Store.
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See the Fate of Ambition—contented with Rhyme,
I had softened the Features of Sorrow and Time;
Had play'd with the Evils I might not refuse,
And soften'd their Frowns with the Tears of the Muse;
Had mov'd in Life's Path with a Sigh and a Song,
And laugh'd at her Rubs as I stumbled along.
But, smitten with Science, I've laboured to lay
A thousand impediments more in my way;
And, because my poor Muse was too gentle a Guide
To smooth the rough Way, and to sing by my Side,
I've coveted Learning, a dangerous Thing
To drag through the Road, and who never could sing.
I had softened the Features of Sorrow and Time;
Had play'd with the Evils I might not refuse,
And soften'd their Frowns with the Tears of the Muse;
Had mov'd in Life's Path with a Sigh and a Song,
And laugh'd at her Rubs as I stumbled along.
But, smitten with Science, I've laboured to lay
A thousand impediments more in my way;
And, because my poor Muse was too gentle a Guide
To smooth the rough Way, and to sing by my Side,
I've coveted Learning, a dangerous Thing
To drag through the Road, and who never could sing.
Of Substance I've thought, and the various Disputes
On the Nature of Man, and the Notions of Brutes;
Of simple and complex Ideas I've read,
How they rose into Life and spring up in my Head;
That the Frolicks I love, and the Fashions I hate,
Are from Causes without, and they rule not innate;
I've studied with stupid Attention and Skill
The Destiny's Law, and the Bounds of the Will;
On the Nature of Man, and the Notions of Brutes;
Of simple and complex Ideas I've read,
How they rose into Life and spring up in my Head;
That the Frolicks I love, and the Fashions I hate,
Are from Causes without, and they rule not innate;
I've studied with stupid Attention and Skill
The Destiny's Law, and the Bounds of the Will;
Of Systems confuted, and Systems explain'd;
Of Science disputed, and Tenets maintain'd;
How Matter and Spirit dissent or unite;
How vary the Natures of Fire and of Light;
How Bodies excentric, concentric shall be;
How Authors divide where they seem to agree;
How dissenting unite, by a Touch of the Quill
Which bodies a Meaning, in what Form they will:
These and such Speculations, on these Kind of Things,
Have robb'd my poor Muse of her Plume and her Wings;
Consum'd the Phlogiston you us'd to admire;
The Spirit extracted, extinguish'd the Fire;
Let out all the Aether so pure and refin'd,
And left but a mere Caput-Mortuum behind.
Of Science disputed, and Tenets maintain'd;
How Matter and Spirit dissent or unite;
How vary the Natures of Fire and of Light;
How Bodies excentric, concentric shall be;
How Authors divide where they seem to agree;
How dissenting unite, by a Touch of the Quill
Which bodies a Meaning, in what Form they will:
These and such Speculations, on these Kind of Things,
Have robb'd my poor Muse of her Plume and her Wings;
Consum'd the Phlogiston you us'd to admire;
The Spirit extracted, extinguish'd the Fire;
Let out all the Aether so pure and refin'd,
And left but a mere Caput-Mortuum behind.
Ah, Priestley! thou Foe to my Numbers, what need
To shock my poor Muses? Thou dost not my Creed,
With Schemes, Dissertations, and Arguments strong
Which I know not how right, and I care not how wrong.
Thou great Necessarian, must I suppose
The Flight of my Verse is o'er rul'd by thy prose;
And that Matters have been unavoidably led,
That thou must have written, and I must have read?
'Tis certain—for what but a Bias of Fate
Could have tied me so long to the Subjects I hate?
To shock my poor Muses? Thou dost not my Creed,
With Schemes, Dissertations, and Arguments strong
Which I know not how right, and I care not how wrong.
Thou great Necessarian, must I suppose
The Flight of my Verse is o'er rul'd by thy prose;
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That thou must have written, and I must have read?
'Tis certain—for what but a Bias of Fate
Could have tied me so long to the Subjects I hate?
O! blest be the Time, when, my Mira, we stray'd
Where the Nightingale perch'd, and the wanton winds play'd;
Where these were the Secrets of Nature we knew,
That her Roses were red, and her Vi'lets were blue;
That soft was the Gloom of the Summer-swell'd shade,
And melting the Fall of the dying Cascade.
Where the Nightingale perch'd, and the wanton winds play'd;
Where these were the Secrets of Nature we knew,
That her Roses were red, and her Vi'lets were blue;
That soft was the Gloom of the Summer-swell'd shade,
And melting the Fall of the dying Cascade.
Blest, the Song shall repeat, be the Pleasures that reign
In the plenty-prest Vale, on the green-vested Plain!
Give Locke to the Winds, and lay Hume on the Fire;
Let Metaphysicians in Darkness expire,
And Fatalists, Fabulists, Logicians fall by
The Laws which Necessity modulates all by;
Let the Slumber of Sense, and the Silence of Spleen,
Lay hold upon Priestley, that learned Machine;
Or, what will to us, my dear Maid, be the same,
May we cease to admire each ostensible Name,
And, blest with those Pleasures the Muses desire,
See Learning, unenvied, to Students retire!
In the plenty-prest Vale, on the green-vested Plain!
Give Locke to the Winds, and lay Hume on the Fire;
Let Metaphysicians in Darkness expire,
And Fatalists, Fabulists, Logicians fall by
The Laws which Necessity modulates all by;
Let the Slumber of Sense, and the Silence of Spleen,
Lay hold upon Priestley, that learned Machine;
Or, what will to us, my dear Maid, be the same,
May we cease to admire each ostensible Name,
And, blest with those Pleasures the Muses desire,
See Learning, unenvied, to Students retire!
| Poems (1905) | |