 | The Poems of Robert Fergusson |  |
35
FASHION. A POEM.
Bred up where discipline most rare is,
In Military Garden Paris.
Hudibras.
In Military Garden Paris.
Hudibras.
O nature, parent goddess! at thy shrine,
Prone to the earth, the muse, in humble song,
Thy aid implores: Nor will she wing her flight
Till thou, bright form! in thy effulgence pure
Deign'st to look down upon her lowly state,
And shed thy powerful influence benign.
Prone to the earth, the muse, in humble song,
Thy aid implores: Nor will she wing her flight
Till thou, bright form! in thy effulgence pure
Deign'st to look down upon her lowly state,
And shed thy powerful influence benign.
Come then, regardless of vain fashion's fools,
Of all those vile enormities of shape
That croud the world, and with thee bring
Wisdom in sober contemplation clad,
To lash those bold usurpers from the stage.
Of all those vile enormities of shape
That croud the world, and with thee bring
Wisdom in sober contemplation clad,
To lash those bold usurpers from the stage.
On that bless'd spot where the Parisian dome
To fools the stealing hand of time displays,
Fashion her empire holds, a goddess great!
View her amidst the Millenarian train
On a resplendent throne exalted high,
Strangely diversified with gew-gaw forms.
Her busy hand glides pleasureably o'er
The darling novelties, the trinkets rare
That greet the sight of the admiring dames,
Whose dear bought treasures o'er their native isle
Contagious spread, infect the wholesome air
That cherish'd vigour in Britannia's sons.
To fools the stealing hand of time displays,
Fashion her empire holds, a goddess great!
View her amidst the Millenarian train
On a resplendent throne exalted high,
Strangely diversified with gew-gaw forms.
Her busy hand glides pleasureably o'er
The darling novelties, the trinkets rare
That greet the sight of the admiring dames,
Whose dear bought treasures o'er their native isle
Contagious spread, infect the wholesome air
That cherish'd vigour in Britannia's sons.
Near this proud seat of Fashion's antic form
A sphere revolves, on whose bright orb behold
The circulating mode of changeful dress,
Which, like the image of the sun himself,
Glories in coursing thro' the diverse signs
Which blazen in the zodiack of heaven.
Around her throne coquets the petits beaux
Unnumber'd shine, and with each other vie
In nameless ornaments and gaudy plumes.
O worthy emulation! to excell
In trifles such as these: how truly great!
Unworthy of the peevish blubbering boy,
Crush'd in his childhood by the fondling nurse,
Who, for some favourite toy, frets and pines.
A sphere revolves, on whose bright orb behold
The circulating mode of changeful dress,
Which, like the image of the sun himself,
Glories in coursing thro' the diverse signs
Which blazen in the zodiack of heaven.
Around her throne coquets the petits beaux
Unnumber'd shine, and with each other vie
36
O worthy emulation! to excell
In trifles such as these: how truly great!
Unworthy of the peevish blubbering boy,
Crush'd in his childhood by the fondling nurse,
Who, for some favourite toy, frets and pines.
Amongst the proud attendants of this shrine,
The wealthy, young and gay Clarinda draws,
From poorer objects, the astonish'd eye:
Her looks, her dress, and her affected mien
Doom her enthusiast keen in Fashion's train:
White as the covered Alps, or wintry face
Of snowy Lapland, her toupee uprear'd,
Exhibits to the view a cumbrous mass
Of curls high nodding o'er her polish'd brow;
From which redundant flows the Brussels lace,
With pendant ribbons too of various dye,
Where all the colours in th'ethereal bow,
Unite, and blend, and tantalize the sight.
The wealthy, young and gay Clarinda draws,
From poorer objects, the astonish'd eye:
Her looks, her dress, and her affected mien
Doom her enthusiast keen in Fashion's train:
White as the covered Alps, or wintry face
Of snowy Lapland, her toupee uprear'd,
Exhibits to the view a cumbrous mass
Of curls high nodding o'er her polish'd brow;
From which redundant flows the Brussels lace,
With pendant ribbons too of various dye,
Where all the colours in th'ethereal bow,
Unite, and blend, and tantalize the sight.
Nature! to thee alone, not Fashion's pomp,
Does beauty owe her all-commanding eye.
From the green bosom of the wat'ry main,
Array'd by thee, majestic Venus rose,
With waving ringlets carelessly diffus'd,
Floating luxurious o'er the restless surge.
What Rubens then, with his enliv'ning hand,
Could paint the bright vermilion of her cheek,
Pure as the roseat portal of the east,
That opens to receive the cheering ray
Of Phœbus beaming from the orient sky?
For sterling beauty needs no faint essays,
Or colourings of art, to gild her more:
She is all perfect. And, if beauty fail,
Where are those ornaments, those rich attires
Which can reflect a lustre on that face,
Where she with light innate disdains to shine?
Does beauty owe her all-commanding eye.
From the green bosom of the wat'ry main,
Array'd by thee, majestic Venus rose,
With waving ringlets carelessly diffus'd,
Floating luxurious o'er the restless surge.
What Rubens then, with his enliv'ning hand,
Could paint the bright vermilion of her cheek,
Pure as the roseat portal of the east,
That opens to receive the cheering ray
Of Phœbus beaming from the orient sky?
For sterling beauty needs no faint essays,
Or colourings of art, to gild her more:
She is all perfect. And, if beauty fail,
Where are those ornaments, those rich attires
Which can reflect a lustre on that face,
Where she with light innate disdains to shine?
Britons, beware of Fashion's luring wiles:
On either hand, chief guardians of her power,
And sole dictators of her fickle voice,
Folly and dull effeminacy reign;
Whose blackest magic and unhallow'd spells
The Roman ardour check'd; their strength decay'd,
And all their glory scatter'd to the winds.
37
And sole dictators of her fickle voice,
Folly and dull effeminacy reign;
Whose blackest magic and unhallow'd spells
The Roman ardour check'd; their strength decay'd,
And all their glory scatter'd to the winds.
Tremble, O Albion! for the voice of fate
Seems ready to decree thy after-fall.
By pride, by luxury, what fatal ills
Unheeded have approach'd thy mortal frame!
How many foreign weeds their heads have rear'd
In thy fair garden? Hasten 'ere their strength
And baneful vegetation taint the soil,
To root out rank disease, which soon must spread,
If no bless'd antidote will purge away
Fashion's proud minions from our sea-girt isle.
Seems ready to decree thy after-fall.
By pride, by luxury, what fatal ills
Unheeded have approach'd thy mortal frame!
How many foreign weeds their heads have rear'd
In thy fair garden? Hasten 'ere their strength
And baneful vegetation taint the soil,
To root out rank disease, which soon must spread,
If no bless'd antidote will purge away
Fashion's proud minions from our sea-girt isle.
| The Poems of Robert Fergusson | |