The Dance of Life A Poem, by the author of "Doctor Syntax;%" [i.e. William Combe] Illustrated with coloured engravings, by Thomas Rowlandson |
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life |  |
Thus Learning went on, hand in hand,
With fair rewards and mild command;
And the Instructress had the skill
When the Boy was dispos'd to ill,
To turn and twist him to her will.
When he was in a fractious mood,
She conquer'd—for his heart was good.
If she but said, “Pray, Sir, do right—
“Or Granny will not sleep to-night:—
“My head aches—I can scarce endure it:
“But if you read your Book, you'll cure it.”
His temper then would cease to riot,
And Learning would go on in quiet.
—She seldom put on solemn look
But when she op'd the sacred book,
Whose holy hist'ries she would tell,
And on his mind impress them well.
Their pictures she would oft unfold
That to his view their story told:
Thus he was tutor'd to explain
Whate'er their subjects might contain;
And his pleas'd Fancy, through the eye,
Subserv'd to early piety:—
For, taught in Reason's simple School,
She felt the known Horatian rule
That stronger influence will appear
From what we see, than what we hear .
From Paradise, and Adam's fall,
To the converting hour of Paul,
He quickly learn'd to tell them all.
And Joseph's Hist'ry 'twas a treat,
To hear his tuneful tongue repeat:
While, with a kind of Critic power,
The print his fingers would explore,
And from the graven forms unfold
The Story which the volume told.
He then would mark the wretched fate
That did upon the wicked wait;
And joy would string his eager tongue,
When right prevail'd o'er treach'rous wrong:
But tears his rosy cheeks bedew'd
If foul mishap befell the good,
Though smiles return'd when, sorrow past,
He found that they were blest at last:
While the Dame never fail'd to tell
The Happiness of acting well.
—Such was the task to her assign'd,
And thus she taught his Infant mind.
With fair rewards and mild command;
And the Instructress had the skill
When the Boy was dispos'd to ill,
To turn and twist him to her will.
When he was in a fractious mood,
She conquer'd—for his heart was good.
If she but said, “Pray, Sir, do right—
“Or Granny will not sleep to-night:—
76
“But if you read your Book, you'll cure it.”
His temper then would cease to riot,
And Learning would go on in quiet.
—She seldom put on solemn look
But when she op'd the sacred book,
Whose holy hist'ries she would tell,
And on his mind impress them well.
Their pictures she would oft unfold
That to his view their story told:
Thus he was tutor'd to explain
Whate'er their subjects might contain;
And his pleas'd Fancy, through the eye,
Subserv'd to early piety:—
For, taught in Reason's simple School,
She felt the known Horatian rule
That stronger influence will appear
From what we see, than what we hear .
From Paradise, and Adam's fall,
To the converting hour of Paul,
He quickly learn'd to tell them all.
77
To hear his tuneful tongue repeat:
While, with a kind of Critic power,
The print his fingers would explore,
And from the graven forms unfold
The Story which the volume told.
He then would mark the wretched fate
That did upon the wicked wait;
And joy would string his eager tongue,
When right prevail'd o'er treach'rous wrong:
But tears his rosy cheeks bedew'd
If foul mishap befell the good,
Though smiles return'd when, sorrow past,
He found that they were blest at last:
While the Dame never fail'd to tell
The Happiness of acting well.
—Such was the task to her assign'd,
And thus she taught his Infant mind.
| CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life | |