Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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The Vision of Mopus.
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| XVI. |
| XVII. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
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The Vision of Mopus.
ANALYSIS.
An apostrophe to Indolence—with a view of a person under its control. The character of Mopus, in the early part of his life—his trance, and ascent to the Temple of Wisdom.—The mirror of Sapientia, with his explanation of the objects seen therein.—His return, in which he withstands the allurements of Vice, by the admonition of Self-Love.— His entertainment and discourse with Sobriety in the green vale of Contentment.—His future conduct.—An encomium on Industry.
I.
Lord of the sallow tatter'd crew,Thy listless look I loath to view;
Thy thread-bare raiment, blotch'd with dust,
Doth strike the soul with deep disgust.
Say, languid loiterer, oh say!
Why thus from happiness you stray?
Can mortals Pleasure's face descry
Through the black veil of Poverty?
Can Misery, in wrath, e'er plant
A direr shaft than haggard want?
Ah no! this truth full well I weet,
Want is with earthly ills replete.
In poverty's cloud-darken'd vale
What woes the cheerless wight assail!
Blank, drear, is all creation's smile,
When poverty doth reign the while:
Cashless—then straight an exile driven,
Damn'd by the laws of earth and heaven.
Oh, Indolence! thou bane of life,
Thy vot'ries war in endless strife;
Hunger and cold, and jails and rags,
Attend thee, while through life thou lagg'st.
Friendless and poor, what joy, what mirth,
Can mortals find upon the earth?
Disease lurks in thy stagnant blood,
And poisons all the crimson flood;
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Though fate awake necessity;
And, like the searing eastern wind,
Steals slumb'ring stupor o'er thy mind.
II.
Behold yon burden'd son of sloth
Still wishing time away;
Slow from his bed he rises, loth,
Even at the noon of day.
Still wishing time away;
Slow from his bed he rises, loth,
Even at the noon of day.
His children clamant are for bread,
And, beggar-like, with rags are clad,
Pale as the living's mortal foe
Who threatens soon to end their woe;
O'erhead the fatal stroke is pending,
Beneath the blow I see them bending;
Their sprites 'twixt death and life are wending.
Do bid adieu to all below!
And, beggar-like, with rags are clad,
Pale as the living's mortal foe
Who threatens soon to end their woe;
O'erhead the fatal stroke is pending,
Beneath the blow I see them bending;
Their sprites 'twixt death and life are wending.
Do bid adieu to all below!
Poor wretch, accursed by heaven's decree,
How canst thou loit'ring lie,
Or thy poor childrens' mis'ry see,
Or hear their melting cry?
Look to the tenants of the wood,
How they provide their young with food;
See how the little songsters sweet
Supply their nestlings weak with meat;
Keen as the knave in quest of gold
The fox breaks through the high sheepfold,
And drags the weak defenceless lamb,
Nor minds the bleatings of the dam;
And bears away
His hapless prey
At risk of life,
And constant strife
Of vengeful shepherds, leagued to be his death
So long as he or they draw breath.
How canst thou loit'ring lie,
Or thy poor childrens' mis'ry see,
Or hear their melting cry?
Look to the tenants of the wood,
How they provide their young with food;
See how the little songsters sweet
Supply their nestlings weak with meat;
Keen as the knave in quest of gold
The fox breaks through the high sheepfold,
And drags the weak defenceless lamb,
Nor minds the bleatings of the dam;
And bears away
His hapless prey
At risk of life,
And constant strife
Of vengeful shepherds, leagued to be his death
So long as he or they draw breath.
Unmindful quite of feeble age,
Provision none he makes
For it—though famine madly rage,
'Gainst which all mortals else engage,—
The combat he forsakes.
Beside the stream he listless lies,
Pursuing the uncertain prize
That sports within the flood;
Thus doth he more enjoyment find,
To his ignoble erring mind,
Than kings or royal blood.
Provision none he makes
For it—though famine madly rage,
'Gainst which all mortals else engage,—
The combat he forsakes.
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Pursuing the uncertain prize
That sports within the flood;
Thus doth he more enjoyment find,
To his ignoble erring mind,
Than kings or royal blood.
Though oft he feels his fav'rite joy
Affords but little gain,
Yet such delusions him decoy,
To part with which would quite destroy
His bliss—and prove his bane.
Affords but little gain,
Yet such delusions him decoy,
To part with which would quite destroy
His bliss—and prove his bane.
Thus let him judge, thus judge he will,
Till death his fireless bosom chill,
And sweep him from the face of earth,
While life laments she gave him birth.
Till death his fireless bosom chill,
And sweep him from the face of earth,
While life laments she gave him birth.
III.
Full many live without an aim;
But many views young Mopus had,
Still searching for the path to fame,
Yet missing which still made him sad.
But many views young Mopus had,
Still searching for the path to fame,
Yet missing which still made him sad.
Not like the son of sloth was he,
Who on the field of ease did hover;
Mopus of indolence was free,
But yet he was a fickle rover.
Who on the field of ease did hover;
Mopus of indolence was free,
But yet he was a fickle rover.
In hopeful youth he thought to gain
Wealth, fame, and popular applause,
By Poetry in many a strain;
And well he knew all music's laws.
Wealth, fame, and popular applause,
By Poetry in many a strain;
And well he knew all music's laws.
Soon did he find the heedless world
Untouched by his mellow lyre;
Then he, to disappointment hurl'd,
No more would court the Muse's fire.
Untouched by his mellow lyre;
Then he, to disappointment hurl'd,
No more would court the Muse's fire.
To Painting next he did betake
Himself—for nature charm'd his soul;
Gay fancy's arts could he forsake?
Ah no! she ruled without control.
Himself—for nature charm'd his soul;
Gay fancy's arts could he forsake?
Ah no! she ruled without control.
But what avail'd his skill in this,
When all his gain was empty praise?
Despairing now to find out bliss
He dropp'd his pencil like his lays.
When all his gain was empty praise?
Despairing now to find out bliss
He dropp'd his pencil like his lays.
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How many in this world would shine,
And drown all others with their glare,
Who are unheeded, left to whine
Through life in hopeless black despair?
And drown all others with their glare,
Who are unheeded, left to whine
Through life in hopeless black despair?
Of these, young Mopus would have met
This fate severely, much I ween,
Had not kind heaven with love beset
His track, and rightly it beseen.
This fate severely, much I ween,
Had not kind heaven with love beset
His track, and rightly it beseen.
Disconsolate, he roam'd alone
By yonder smooth reed-border'd Lake:
In disappointment's wailing tone,
To vent his grief, he thus outspake.
By yonder smooth reed-border'd Lake:
In disappointment's wailing tone,
To vent his grief, he thus outspake.
IV.
To reach Fame's bright realm every effort has fail'd me;
To grasp Riches' coffer no more will I try;
Come, black-robed Despair, I reluctant must hail thee;
By Hope quite forsaken, I fear not to die.
Thou bright flash of heaven, oh! in pity destroy me;
Thou false ignis fatuus, to ruin decoy me;
For life's snare-allurements serve only to cloy me,
And grave-like oblivion alone I espy.
To grasp Riches' coffer no more will I try;
Come, black-robed Despair, I reluctant must hail thee;
By Hope quite forsaken, I fear not to die.
Thou bright flash of heaven, oh! in pity destroy me;
Thou false ignis fatuus, to ruin decoy me;
For life's snare-allurements serve only to cloy me,
And grave-like oblivion alone I espy.
Oh! had I, like some exiled hermit, but wander'd
Aloof from the world, ere the world I had known;
And on nature, far, far from ambition, had ponder'd,
I had found sweet contentment, and found it alone.
But teased, harass'd, criticised, vex'd, and forsaken;
Oh! that in the dawn of life death had me taken;
Remembrance, oh! rise not, my woes to awaken;
And sleep, cruel memory, I charge thee anon.
Aloof from the world, ere the world I had known;
And on nature, far, far from ambition, had ponder'd,
I had found sweet contentment, and found it alone.
But teased, harass'd, criticised, vex'd, and forsaken;
Oh! that in the dawn of life death had me taken;
Remembrance, oh! rise not, my woes to awaken;
And sleep, cruel memory, I charge thee anon.
V.
Thus Mopus mourn'd his hapless fate,And sole his mis'ry did relate,
While, flashing through the sable sky,
The barbed lightning bright did fly:
And, while the gleaming welkin shone,
Deep thunder struck her hollow tone.
Harsh scream'd the plover in the brake,
Loud yell'd the wild-duck on the lake,
Keen blew the wind, thick drove the rain
Across the dreary midnight plain.
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Her slanting beam did cheering throw
Upon the grim tower's mould'ring wall,
To wake the night-owl's dreary call,
Who, from her ivy-haunt, did wail,
Harsh as could mortal ear assail.
Meanwhile did Mopus, musing wide,
Resolve on coward suicide;
Thought this last exit he would take,
To plunge into th' engulphing Lake:
When, quick, to his astonish'd sight,
Had vanish'd all the shades of night;
The dull owl dropp'd her dreary lay,
And mute was, as at noon of day;
The plover and the wild-duck harsh
Scream'd neither from the brake nor marsh;
The wind slept in her airy bed;
Sheer from the plain the rain had fled;
Far o'er the wide horizon's bound,
Was spent the thunder's blust'ring sound;
And from the sight, by tempest driven,
Fast fled the death-fraught bolt of heaven:
He rapt was from the former scene
To one of glitt'ring, dazzling sheen.
VI.
Upon a beauteous, sunny hill—
Whose verdure like the Jasper shone,
Round which did flow a limpid rill,
Where dews ambrosial sweet distil—
A Temple stood of onyx-stone.
Whose verdure like the Jasper shone,
Round which did flow a limpid rill,
Where dews ambrosial sweet distil—
A Temple stood of onyx-stone.
The path which led up to the gate
Was deck'd with many a comely flower,
By nature form'd to recreate;
Fair amaranth and flav'rous date
Wove many an aromatic bower.
Was deck'd with many a comely flower,
By nature form'd to recreate;
Fair amaranth and flav'rous date
Wove many an aromatic bower.
The portal was a diamond bright,
More lucid than the purest spring;
Grandeur and symmetry unite
To strike the eye, the mind delight,
With admiration's sweetest string.
More lucid than the purest spring;
Grandeur and symmetry unite
To strike the eye, the mind delight,
With admiration's sweetest string.
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This was calm Wisdom's temple grand,
Possess'd from immemorial time;
The Virtues form'd a dulcet band,
And thus to Mopus, hand in hand,
Their invitation sung sublime.
Possess'd from immemorial time;
The Virtues form'd a dulcet band,
And thus to Mopus, hand in hand,
Their invitation sung sublime.
VII.
Come, wayworn stranger, come, repose;
Life's thorns elude, and pull the rose
Which in fair Wisdom's garden grows,
Even love and immortality.
Life's thorns elude, and pull the rose
Which in fair Wisdom's garden grows,
Even love and immortality.
For vice, the syren, to her bower
Thee lures, thy spirit to devour;
So, fly from her enchanting power,
And shun her woeful destiny.
Thee lures, thy spirit to devour;
So, fly from her enchanting power,
And shun her woeful destiny.
Ascend to Wisdom's palace fair,
And breathe the pure immortal air,
Where squallid want nor sordid care
Ne'er dim the lamp of liberty.
And breathe the pure immortal air,
Where squallid want nor sordid care
Ne'er dim the lamp of liberty.
To that saturnian bless'd abode
Arise, trip o'er the roscid road,
Where few 'mong mortals ever trod,
Or felt truth's thrilling ecstasy.
Arise, trip o'er the roscid road,
Where few 'mong mortals ever trod,
Or felt truth's thrilling ecstasy.
No longer on hell's brink delay;
Time's race is short; haste! come away!
We'll show the path to endless day,
In th' realm of long eternity.
Time's race is short; haste! come away!
We'll show the path to endless day,
In th' realm of long eternity.
VIII.
This sung—they led him to the gate,Where Sapientia did await
To hail his wilder'd guest;
Sage was his look, and grave his mien,
His hoar-beard kiss'd the flowery green,
While, bowing with inviting look,
Young Mopus by the hand he took,
And thus him short address'd.
IX.
Fame-hunting stranger, thou hast stray'd
Far from the path which leads to joy;
By error's glare thou wast betray'd,
It sought thy peace still to destroy.
Far from the path which leads to joy;
By error's glare thou wast betray'd,
It sought thy peace still to destroy.
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I wrench'd thee from the grasp of death,
While pendant hung the fatal blow;
And, ere the prowler stop thy breath,
The way to happiness thee show.
While pendant hung the fatal blow;
And, ere the prowler stop thy breath,
The way to happiness thee show.
My mansion's postern enter then,
Where thou shalt see things hid before;
Foolish they seem to heedless men,
Who only short-lived joys adore.
Where thou shalt see things hid before;
Foolish they seem to heedless men,
Who only short-lived joys adore.
Few, few are favour'd with the view,
Although presented unto all!
This riddle's not more strange than true—
Be pleased to walk into the hall.
Although presented unto all!
This riddle's not more strange than true—
Be pleased to walk into the hall.
X.
Before the Sage young Mopus lay
Low, prostrate on the ground;
But when the Seer said, “Come away,”
Gave him his hand, and show'd the way,
He obey'd the inviting sound.
Low, prostrate on the ground;
But when the Seer said, “Come away,”
Gave him his hand, and show'd the way,
He obey'd the inviting sound.
He led him to the splendid hall,
Which was with tap'stry cover'd all;
At the farther end a curtain flow'd,
That rich with gold enamel glow'd,
Which, by the Sire's desire, was furl'd,
And show'd the follies of the world.
Which was with tap'stry cover'd all;
At the farther end a curtain flow'd,
That rich with gold enamel glow'd,
Which, by the Sire's desire, was furl'd,
And show'd the follies of the world.
XI.
The hubbub of the fool-like crowd
Had such a strange fantastic look,
That Mopus burst to laughter loud,
Nor could the sight demurely brook.
Had such a strange fantastic look,
That Mopus burst to laughter loud,
Nor could the sight demurely brook.
Emperors, kings, princes, and lords,
Ran, eager, grasping chaff and straws;
And warrior's mad, with blood-stain'd swords,
Roared out, “revenge! for broken laws.”
Ran, eager, grasping chaff and straws;
And warrior's mad, with blood-stain'd swords,
Roared out, “revenge! for broken laws.”
Some stray'd, wrapp'd up in musing deep,
Beside the lone sequester'd stream;
Some grasp'd the wind, as it did sweep
Across the flower-bespangled green.
Beside the lone sequester'd stream;
Some grasp'd the wind, as it did sweep
Across the flower-bespangled green.
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Others, remote, upon the moor
The wild fire chase through dense and rare;
The meteor's flash some to secure
With madlike bounds rise in the air.
The wild fire chase through dense and rare;
The meteor's flash some to secure
With madlike bounds rise in the air.
Swift, ardent, ran a countless rout
To reach rich Mammon's fleeting dome;
While “ever and anon” they shout,
“Kind Father take us to thy home!”
To reach rich Mammon's fleeting dome;
While “ever and anon” they shout,
“Kind Father take us to thy home!”
And, while this strange maniac scene
Did show that madness reign'd in man,
The Sage, with grave commanding mein,
Its explanation thus began.
Did show that madness reign'd in man,
The Sage, with grave commanding mein,
Its explanation thus began.
XII.
Let laughter leave thy youthful face,
Discard the comical grimace;
The prospect open'd to your view
Is comic, but 'tis solemn too.
So I demand your best attention,
To what concerning it I mention.
Discard the comical grimace;
The prospect open'd to your view
Is comic, but 'tis solemn too.
So I demand your best attention,
To what concerning it I mention.
Know, then, soon after life began,
Down from his rectitude fell man,
And on his hapless offspring hurl'd
The plagues and follies of the world.
Burning with envy, pride, and want,
On wealth they leer, with eye aslant;
And bound o'er justice, reason, law,
To catch a feather or a straw.
What's wealth, though gain'd at such expense?
The surplusage of competence!
And what is fame, that phantom fair?
Nor more nor less than empty air!
Titles! their owners only shame,
Who boast upon a vague nickname;
For no high-sounding appellation
Can raise man higher than his station:
Virtue alone deserves our praise,
And virtuous man should wear the bays.
Observe yon glory-hunting race,
Through dense and rare, the spectre chase;
Who, rather than their object lose,
Would death with all its horrors choose:
The orphan's cry, the widow's tears,
In vain assail their ruthless ears;
Wan labour do they eye with scorn,
From every earthly pleasure torn,
And poor low-stooping service spurn
Sheer from their door, ne'er to return.
Down from his rectitude fell man,
And on his hapless offspring hurl'd
The plagues and follies of the world.
Burning with envy, pride, and want,
On wealth they leer, with eye aslant;
And bound o'er justice, reason, law,
To catch a feather or a straw.
What's wealth, though gain'd at such expense?
The surplusage of competence!
And what is fame, that phantom fair?
Nor more nor less than empty air!
Titles! their owners only shame,
Who boast upon a vague nickname;
For no high-sounding appellation
Can raise man higher than his station:
Virtue alone deserves our praise,
And virtuous man should wear the bays.
Observe yon glory-hunting race,
Through dense and rare, the spectre chase;
Who, rather than their object lose,
Would death with all its horrors choose:
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In vain assail their ruthless ears;
Wan labour do they eye with scorn,
From every earthly pleasure torn,
And poor low-stooping service spurn
Sheer from their door, ne'er to return.
Oh tyranny! thou curse on earth,
Pride and oppression gave thee birth;
Built on injustice and on power
Thus hast thou raised thy lofty tower,
Whose pinnacles have reach'd the skies,
And dazzle the beholders' eyes.
Thus Monarchy, with Papal sway,
Uninterrupted, lolls away;
While, to support its pomp and pride,
Through hardship, groans the world beside.
Yet let not this disturb thy rest—
Wherever virtue is, 'tis bless'd;
Calm, sweet, serene, life glides away
With him who walks in virtue's way;
Suns never scorch, frosts never freeze
Him who doth God and nature please;
Far more transporting joy he feels
Than he who in debauch'ry reels.
The warrior, fired with thirst of fame,
Lays cities waste to gain a name;
Depopulates whole countries wide
To gratify his damned pride;
And yet, black fiend! throughout the nation
Proclaims, 'tis all self-preservation!
And his vile colleague, brother cheat,
To keep his privy council seat,
Doth, echo-like, the theme repeat.
These keep the world in close turmoil,
Still stirring up some novel broil;
So great for wealth and power their lust is,
That stern oppression's styled bland justice.
Pride and oppression gave thee birth;
Built on injustice and on power
Thus hast thou raised thy lofty tower,
Whose pinnacles have reach'd the skies,
And dazzle the beholders' eyes.
Thus Monarchy, with Papal sway,
Uninterrupted, lolls away;
While, to support its pomp and pride,
Through hardship, groans the world beside.
Yet let not this disturb thy rest—
Wherever virtue is, 'tis bless'd;
Calm, sweet, serene, life glides away
With him who walks in virtue's way;
Suns never scorch, frosts never freeze
Him who doth God and nature please;
Far more transporting joy he feels
Than he who in debauch'ry reels.
The warrior, fired with thirst of fame,
Lays cities waste to gain a name;
Depopulates whole countries wide
To gratify his damned pride;
And yet, black fiend! throughout the nation
Proclaims, 'tis all self-preservation!
And his vile colleague, brother cheat,
To keep his privy council seat,
Doth, echo-like, the theme repeat.
These keep the world in close turmoil,
Still stirring up some novel broil;
So great for wealth and power their lust is,
That stern oppression's styled bland justice.
Some stray in rural solitude,
And seek for pleasure in the wood;
Oft do they linger thus away
Full many a precious golden day,
And ne'er the coy phantasma find;
If home they come, she's left behind:
Error on back of error lights,
And all their baseless prospects blights.
And seek for pleasure in the wood;
Oft do they linger thus away
Full many a precious golden day,
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If home they come, she's left behind:
Error on back of error lights,
And all their baseless prospects blights.
Those vain air catchers are the race
'Mongst whom thou didst commence thy chase;
The object which thou hadst in view
Was as vague, and elusive too,
As what those dreamers now pursue.
Where is the prize? they have it not,
Though deem'd within their fist close shut.
But, open—they have gain'd no more
Than what they did possess before.
Thus didst thou in delusion rove
Within the Muses' fairy grove,
And in this Eden thought'st to dwell
Till trial broke the magic spell:
Then all around was wrapp'd in gloom;
Wide yawn'd the black untimely tomb;
No face appear'd but that of death,
With visage stern, to end thy breath.
I then, in pity and in love,
Did interpose, once more to prove
Thee: but this trial is the last.
'Mongst whom thou didst commence thy chase;
The object which thou hadst in view
Was as vague, and elusive too,
As what those dreamers now pursue.
Where is the prize? they have it not,
Though deem'd within their fist close shut.
But, open—they have gain'd no more
Than what they did possess before.
Thus didst thou in delusion rove
Within the Muses' fairy grove,
And in this Eden thought'st to dwell
Till trial broke the magic spell:
Then all around was wrapp'd in gloom;
Wide yawn'd the black untimely tomb;
No face appear'd but that of death,
With visage stern, to end thy breath.
I then, in pity and in love,
Did interpose, once more to prove
Thee: but this trial is the last.
Hold virtue then, and hold it fast:
Unmindful of the when or where,
Ne'er follow fancy's meteor glare;
Nor after glory cast thine eyes,
Which doth above thy limits rise;
Nor yet the course unduly hold
Which leads to Mammon's fane of gold.
Love virtue only—that is wealth;
Sweet nature's law—for that is health;
Search for true knowledge—that is grandeur
Which far outshines all earthly splendour:
And when grim death at last appears,
When from their orbits drop the spheres,
When rings the far-heard trump of doom,
To wake the tenants of the tomb,
When, tow'ring in th' effulgent sky,
God's judgment throne's erected high,
When trembling sinners fly the sight,
And try in vain to shun the light,—
The terror of these objects shall
Thee neither frighten nor appal;
God shall declare then, from above,
That he doth only virtue love.
And as the man is—is his sentence:
If bad, what signifies repentance;
If bad, kind Hope is fled for ever—
One ray of her he shall have never:
Consign'd to everlasting pain,
All retrospection then is vain,
Where injured justice, to and fro,
Doth haunt the dreary realms of woe.
Unmindful of the when or where,
Ne'er follow fancy's meteor glare;
Nor after glory cast thine eyes,
Which doth above thy limits rise;
Nor yet the course unduly hold
Which leads to Mammon's fane of gold.
Love virtue only—that is wealth;
Sweet nature's law—for that is health;
Search for true knowledge—that is grandeur
Which far outshines all earthly splendour:
And when grim death at last appears,
When from their orbits drop the spheres,
When rings the far-heard trump of doom,
To wake the tenants of the tomb,
When, tow'ring in th' effulgent sky,
God's judgment throne's erected high,
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And try in vain to shun the light,—
The terror of these objects shall
Thee neither frighten nor appal;
God shall declare then, from above,
That he doth only virtue love.
And as the man is—is his sentence:
If bad, what signifies repentance;
If bad, kind Hope is fled for ever—
One ray of her he shall have never:
Consign'd to everlasting pain,
All retrospection then is vain,
Where injured justice, to and fro,
Doth haunt the dreary realms of woe.
Thy conduct from this sight improve,
Go cultivate the virtue love;
True love has eyes, true love has ears,
True love has both her hopes and fears;
Eyes, to behold a brother's need;
Ears, which no ill report can feed;
Hopes, that the best account is true;
And fears, least any want their due.
Then back to earth, reform thy plan,
And act the humble part of man;
With that, thou need'st no other guide—
For misery centres all in pride.
Go cultivate the virtue love;
True love has eyes, true love has ears,
True love has both her hopes and fears;
Eyes, to behold a brother's need;
Ears, which no ill report can feed;
Hopes, that the best account is true;
And fears, least any want their due.
Then back to earth, reform thy plan,
And act the humble part of man;
With that, thou need'st no other guide—
For misery centres all in pride.
XIII.
Though loth to leave the reverend Sire,
Yet, bowing, at his high desire
He left the spacious hall;
In youthful bloom, before the door,
His guardians, whom he left before,
In readiness were all,
To guide him off their hallow'd field,
With complimental air,
Stern virtue's weapons now to wield,
With all judicious care.
Yet, bowing, at his high desire
He left the spacious hall;
In youthful bloom, before the door,
His guardians, whom he left before,
In readiness were all,
To guide him off their hallow'd field,
With complimental air,
Stern virtue's weapons now to wield,
With all judicious care.
Deep heartfelt sighs his bosom swell,
To bid these blooming nymphs farewell,
Perhaps to meet no more;
But, having reach'd the destined bound,
With sweet adieu they all wheel'd round,
Their duty being o'er.
To bid these blooming nymphs farewell,
Perhaps to meet no more;
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With sweet adieu they all wheel'd round,
Their duty being o'er.
Now sole, young Mopus sped his way,
Through fields, he knew not where;
When soon a damsel, brisk and gay,
Approach'd with cheerful air.
Through fields, he knew not where;
When soon a damsel, brisk and gay,
Approach'd with cheerful air.
With modest, sly, alluring mein,
She tried, by her grand lust'rous sheen,
To wile him to her bower;
But by that very instant came
Self-love, who told her grove was fame,
And that her wealth was power;
And that the harlot had beguiled
Full many a stranger there,
But oft her trappings he had foil'd,
When listen'd to with care.
She tried, by her grand lust'rous sheen,
To wile him to her bower;
But by that very instant came
Self-love, who told her grove was fame,
And that her wealth was power;
And that the harlot had beguiled
Full many a stranger there,
But oft her trappings he had foil'd,
When listen'd to with care.
When thus detected, off she sped,
Quick from her look the lustre fled,
And all her bloom decay'd;
By Self-love thus the youth, set free
From such deluding company,
Straight down the vale now stray'd.
A humble cottage stood upon
The flower-bestuded vale,
Where neither pomp nor grandeur shone;
This was Contentment's dale.
Quick from her look the lustre fled,
And all her bloom decay'd;
By Self-love thus the youth, set free
From such deluding company,
Straight down the vale now stray'd.
A humble cottage stood upon
The flower-bestuded vale,
Where neither pomp nor grandeur shone;
This was Contentment's dale.
XIV.
Beside a limpid purling stream—
Which murm'ring on did play,
And 'neath the blazing noontide beam
With windings fair did stray—
An aged shepherd, musing deep,
Lay 'neath a birken shade;
While frisking lambs and fleecy sheep
Browsed on the flowery glade.
Which murm'ring on did play,
And 'neath the blazing noontide beam
With windings fair did stray—
An aged shepherd, musing deep,
Lay 'neath a birken shade;
While frisking lambs and fleecy sheep
Browsed on the flowery glade.
His look sedate, his hoary brow,
Bespoke him good and sage,
And that he had, long, long ere now,
Withstood fell passion's rage.
And, as the youth was passing by,
The complimental swain
Arose, and thus, with placid eye,
The youth did entertain.
Bespoke him good and sage,
And that he had, long, long ere now,
Withstood fell passion's rage.
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The complimental swain
Arose, and thus, with placid eye,
The youth did entertain.
XV.
Sobriety.Stay, O stranger, young and mild,
Tarry on this flowery wild;
See, the sun is wearing low,
From our cottage do not go
Till again the rosy morn
Sky, and fields, and woods adorn;
So, till peep of blithesome day,
Deign, young stranger, here to stay.
Mopus.
Corteous Father, hoary Sire,
Much thy kindness I admire;
Sweet, inviting is your seat,
Sure 'tis contentment's bless'd retreat:
But too long I've been away,
So I can't much longer stay;
Friends will think I've cross'd the bourne
Whence I never shall return:
Yet your converse, Sage, to hear,
I shall give attentive ear.
Sobriety.
Since instruction thou wilt take,
It I'll tender for thy sake.
Youth's beset with many snares
Which may lure him unawares;
It behoves him much to guard
Fickle fancy's lying card;
And to weigh each step in life,
For there gins and traps are rife;
There is neither rank nor station,
Post, nor place, nor occupation,
But is fraught with trials fell,
Fit to drag the soul to hell.
If not conquer'd face to face,
And driven from the combat place,
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From sage experience it doth flow.
Mopus.
True, kind Sire! for every part
Darts conviction on the heart:
Vice I've found a liar deep,
Who all bounds and law would leap,
His vile purpose to attain;
And his adamantine chain
Binds with unsubduing power,
While the shafts of justice shower
'Round him while in this condition,
And fix him down in black perdition.
Sobriety.
Right thou art: and may the view
Of the traitor guide thee through
Life's important briary maze,
Free from all his hard assays.
Never let him have a hearing,
Though he seem e'er so endearing:
Hear but his tale, he'll thee deceive;
The devil's dialogue ruin'd Eve:
But shun the first insinuation,
Then proof thoul't stand 'gainst all temptation.
Of the traitor guide thee through
Life's important briary maze,
Free from all his hard assays.
Never let him have a hearing,
Though he seem e'er so endearing:
Hear but his tale, he'll thee deceive;
The devil's dialogue ruin'd Eve:
But shun the first insinuation,
Then proof thoul't stand 'gainst all temptation.
And, as all night thou wilt not stay,
I pray God speed thee on thy way:
Keep virtue's path, which leads to rest;
Her path is safest, and 'tis best.
I pray God speed thee on thy way:
Keep virtue's path, which leads to rest;
Her path is safest, and 'tis best.
Mopus.
Thanks, master of this verdant vale,
Thanks for thy virtue-cheering tale;
And as the sun wanes low away,
And night draws on, I cannot stay.
XVI.
Short way he from the Sire was goneWhen all this scene was changed anon;
Instead of verdant fields and groves,
Of winding dales and dark alcoves,
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And show'd the dark sedge-skirted lake.
Downcast and dull young Mopus stood,
As in his wonted wretched mood;
But, such effect had wrought the vision,
He chid his conduct with derision:
Nor longer tarried there alone,
Nor mourn'd his lot with bitter tone,
But suddenly he homeward sped,
Reflecting on the life he'd led;
Resolved upon a future plan—
To act the noble part of man.
Vice now he doth indignant spurn,
A neighbour's fall doth make him mourn,
True love pervades through every act,
And follows bold industry's track;
He listens to misfortune's plaint,
And 's both philosopher and saint.
XVII.
Oh, Industry! great source of wealth,
I praise thy potent power;
Thou string'st the nerves to truest health,
And dost fell want devour.
I praise thy potent power;
Thou string'st the nerves to truest health,
And dost fell want devour.
Although thou didst originate
From Eden's fatal curse,
Thou canst discard infringing hate,
If raised by empty purse.
From Eden's fatal curse,
Thou canst discard infringing hate,
If raised by empty purse.
I see thee early on the lawn,
When all in sleep are still;
Thou meet'st the sun, at first of dawn,
With pleasure and good will.
When all in sleep are still;
Thou meet'st the sun, at first of dawn,
With pleasure and good will.
By thee all earthly good we have
Which lies in labour's power,
And by thy toil-worn hand receive
Earth's unprolific dower.
Which lies in labour's power,
And by thy toil-worn hand receive
Earth's unprolific dower.
The slothful sluggard I decry,
And sloven, vilely clad;
Gay diligence I fondly eye;
At cleanliness I'm glad.
And sloven, vilely clad;
Gay diligence I fondly eye;
At cleanliness I'm glad.
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The fickle dreamer never can
Succeed in legal gain;
He ever shifting is his plan
At each imagined pain.
Succeed in legal gain;
He ever shifting is his plan
At each imagined pain.
A mopus once young Mopus was,
But is no mopus now;
He's guided by discretion's laws,
And honour decks his brow.
But is no mopus now;
He's guided by discretion's laws,
And honour decks his brow.
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