The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
99
DRUNKENNESS.
Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus
Vidi docentem ------
------ et aures
Capripedum Satyrorum acutas.
Hor.
Vidi docentem ------
------ et aures
Capripedum Satyrorum acutas.
Hor.
On lonely rocks, where Satyr Forms retire,
(So sings the Master of the Roman Lyre,)
Mad Bacchus holds his court; and boasts to spread
Wild boisterous joy, and intermitting dread.
(So sings the Master of the Roman Lyre,)
Mad Bacchus holds his court; and boasts to spread
Wild boisterous joy, and intermitting dread.
From this short hint (my theme inspir'd the thought)
With eager wish the classic scene I sought:
The Muse indulgent on my purpose smil'd;
Join'd her kind hand to mine, and introduced her child.
With eager wish the classic scene I sought:
100
Join'd her kind hand to mine, and introduced her child.
High o'er a subject crew, that throng'd around,
In rudely regal state the God we found:
The subject crew a servile homage pay,
And bear with pride the symptoms of his sway;
The full round face, the rich falernian dye,
The doubtful feature, and th' exhausted eye.
In rudely regal state the God we found:
The subject crew a servile homage pay,
And bear with pride the symptoms of his sway;
The full round face, the rich falernian dye,
The doubtful feature, and th' exhausted eye.
The mystic rites begun,—“Behold a bowl,”
The Tyrant cried, “of strength to raise the soul;
“To fill, to warm, to cherish every part;
“To prompt the noble deed, and open all the heart.”
The Tyrant cried, “of strength to raise the soul;
“To fill, to warm, to cherish every part;
“To prompt the noble deed, and open all the heart.”
The crowd accept the gift.—Awhile they seem
To quaff new vigor from the quick'ning stream:
And still at every round, as each prefer'd,
Health, love, or friendship, was the given word:
Nor wanted aught of jest or mirthful glee,
Or jocund song, or frolic revelry.
To quaff new vigor from the quick'ning stream:
And still at every round, as each prefer'd,
Health, love, or friendship, was the given word:
Nor wanted aught of jest or mirthful glee,
Or jocund song, or frolic revelry.
101
But oh! how short the bliss! th' enchanting flood
Swells the strain'd veins, and boils along the blood:
Drown'd in ascending fumes, fair Sense retains
No more her influence; and Madness reigns;
Careless to save; irresolute to bear;
Rash to resolve; and insolent to dare.
In every face some fury passion glares;
Here mean distrust, with conscious baseness stares;
Here raves loud pride; there spiteful envy burns;
Here headlong joy to frantic riot turns:
And each due theme of praise, of hope, of care,
Is now distraction, and is now despair.
Swells the strain'd veins, and boils along the blood:
Drown'd in ascending fumes, fair Sense retains
No more her influence; and Madness reigns;
Careless to save; irresolute to bear;
Rash to resolve; and insolent to dare.
In every face some fury passion glares;
Here mean distrust, with conscious baseness stares;
Here raves loud pride; there spiteful envy burns;
Here headlong joy to frantic riot turns:
And each due theme of praise, of hope, of care,
Is now distraction, and is now despair.
Quick from the mind, the subtle magic spreads
O'er all the vital frame, and every power recedes:
A mere dead weight of limbs, the feet in vain
Essay to raise, or raising to sustain;
Slow moves the tongue in many a broken sound;
And to the swimming eye each object floats around.
O'er all the vital frame, and every power recedes:
A mere dead weight of limbs, the feet in vain
Essay to raise, or raising to sustain;
Slow moves the tongue in many a broken sound;
And to the swimming eye each object floats around.
102
Soft sigh'd the gentle Muse; and thus addrest
Her wond'ring pupil,—“Deep within thy breast,
“O! deep, my son, this Spartan lesson store;—
“'Tis worth whole volumes of scholastic lore;
“Tho' youth intemperate give thy blood to glow,
“Tho' grief deject, tho' fortune overthrow,
“Know wine a doubtful good, a mischief sure,
“A real poison in a fancied cure,
“Which sense can never need, nor virtue can endure.”
Her wond'ring pupil,—“Deep within thy breast,
“O! deep, my son, this Spartan lesson store;—
“'Tis worth whole volumes of scholastic lore;
“Tho' youth intemperate give thy blood to glow,
“Tho' grief deject, tho' fortune overthrow,
“Know wine a doubtful good, a mischief sure,
“A real poison in a fancied cure,
“Which sense can never need, nor virtue can endure.”
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |