Original poems on several subjects In two volumes. By William Stevenson |
 | I. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| II. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
THE MONOPOLIST. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
 | Original poems on several subjects |  |
67
THE MONOPOLIST.
------ omnes
Vicini oderunt, noti, pueri, atque puellæ:
Miraris, quum tu argento post omnia ponas,
Si nemo præstet quem non merearis amorem.
Hor.
Vicini oderunt, noti, pueri, atque puellæ:
Miraris, quum tu argento post omnia ponas,
Si nemo præstet quem non merearis amorem.
Hor.
Sapo, condemn'd to love of gain,
Tortures for it his little brain;
Just knowing, all his pow'rs implied,
His right hand from his left beside.
His daily unremitted care,
Nor fame nor glory is to share;
But all just boundaries to pass,
Break the twelfth precept, and amass:
No matter how, or where, or when,
If but in lucky hour he can.
His God, his conscience, and his neighbour,
Are all involv'd in this one labour.
His meat, his drink, his sleep, his all,
You fitly may his money call.
He thinks each Christian duty paid,
If he can but enlarge his trade;
His trade, by all mean shifts combin'd,
To pinch, distress, and cheat mankind.
He thinks nought sinful that's conceal'd,
No crime forbidden till reveal'd;
Forgets himself a man, that he
May, fiend-like, from restraints be free:
A plan of action that defies,
At one bold stroke, both earth and skies;
A plan, far from his darling sum,
To damn him in the world to come.
Tortures for it his little brain;
Just knowing, all his pow'rs implied,
His right hand from his left beside.
His daily unremitted care,
Nor fame nor glory is to share;
But all just boundaries to pass,
Break the twelfth precept, and amass:
No matter how, or where, or when,
If but in lucky hour he can.
His God, his conscience, and his neighbour,
Are all involv'd in this one labour.
His meat, his drink, his sleep, his all,
You fitly may his money call.
He thinks each Christian duty paid,
If he can but enlarge his trade;
68
To pinch, distress, and cheat mankind.
He thinks nought sinful that's conceal'd,
No crime forbidden till reveal'd;
Forgets himself a man, that he
May, fiend-like, from restraints be free:
A plan of action that defies,
At one bold stroke, both earth and skies;
A plan, far from his darling sum,
To damn him in the world to come.
When seasons frown upon mankind,
Against us heav'n and earth combin'd;
When Plenty shuts her bounteous hand,
And Want, dire Want, invades our land;
He steps abroad, with visage drear,
To add fresh horrours to the year;
Amid Despair's surrounding gloom,
To aggravate the general doom;
Assist the vengeance of the skies,
Nor fall himself a sacrifice.
No; God spares Sapo, to fulfil
On base rebellious man his will;
This done, himself unwept shall fall,
The vilest and the worst of all.
No mercy's thus to Sapo shown,
Daily his guilt still deeper grown:
And as his sins rise in degree,
His final punishment shall be.
Against us heav'n and earth combin'd;
When Plenty shuts her bounteous hand,
And Want, dire Want, invades our land;
He steps abroad, with visage drear,
To add fresh horrours to the year;
Amid Despair's surrounding gloom,
To aggravate the general doom;
Assist the vengeance of the skies,
Nor fall himself a sacrifice.
No; God spares Sapo, to fulfil
On base rebellious man his will;
This done, himself unwept shall fall,
The vilest and the worst of all.
69
Daily his guilt still deeper grown:
And as his sins rise in degree,
His final punishment shall be.
What! gentle to a wretch whose views
So much insult the heav'n-born Muse!
Insult Humanity's great law,
Without which vainly breath we draw!
Insult Distress's tear-swoln eye!
Insult Misfortune's bursting sigh!
A wretch who, with insidious grin,
An emblem of the fiend within,
Can basely hatch a thousand lies,
If his demands may thereby rise;
Feign scarcity, when through the plains,
In smiles array'd, Abundance reigns:
A wretch, if aught but coward vile,
Trembling if you but cease to smile,
Who had purloin'd his neighbour's coat,
For pelf, or cut his brother's throat!
A wretch, who would exult to find
Heav'n no more gracious to mankind!
Snatch from Omnipotence the rod,
And act a tyrant, for a God!
His Bible's first commands despise,
And, back'd by hell, monopolize!
Mercy were here to worth unkind;
Compassion, littleness of mind.
When snakes untwist their deadly folds,
Who strangely pities that beholds?
When wolves for slaughter lie in wait,
Who careless would brood o'er his fate;
Nor snatch the instrument of death,
And claim the ruffian's forfeit breath?
So much insult the heav'n-born Muse!
Insult Humanity's great law,
Without which vainly breath we draw!
Insult Distress's tear-swoln eye!
Insult Misfortune's bursting sigh!
A wretch who, with insidious grin,
An emblem of the fiend within,
Can basely hatch a thousand lies,
If his demands may thereby rise;
Feign scarcity, when through the plains,
In smiles array'd, Abundance reigns:
A wretch, if aught but coward vile,
Trembling if you but cease to smile,
Who had purloin'd his neighbour's coat,
For pelf, or cut his brother's throat!
A wretch, who would exult to find
Heav'n no more gracious to mankind!
Snatch from Omnipotence the rod,
And act a tyrant, for a God!
70
And, back'd by hell, monopolize!
Mercy were here to worth unkind;
Compassion, littleness of mind.
When snakes untwist their deadly folds,
Who strangely pities that beholds?
When wolves for slaughter lie in wait,
Who careless would brood o'er his fate;
Nor snatch the instrument of death,
And claim the ruffian's forfeit breath?
Rise, Satire, and to gain renown,
Assume the Juvenalian frown;
Rise, in majestic terrour rise,
Darting swift vengeance from thy eyes;
Let torrents dashing down the rock,
Less than thy furious numbers shock:
Be no soft soothing strains thy choice,
But the sonorous thunder's voice.
Quick let the serpent's venom dart,
To reach the inly-quiv'ring heart;
Along each nerve-string let it glow,
And to life's last recesses flow!
Better one his deserts should share,
Than thousands sink in deep despair;
Reduc'd to Hunger's latest throb,
And almost justified to rob.
Assume the Juvenalian frown;
Rise, in majestic terrour rise,
Darting swift vengeance from thy eyes;
Let torrents dashing down the rock,
Less than thy furious numbers shock:
Be no soft soothing strains thy choice,
But the sonorous thunder's voice.
Quick let the serpent's venom dart,
To reach the inly-quiv'ring heart;
Along each nerve-string let it glow,
And to life's last recesses flow!
Better one his deserts should share,
Than thousands sink in deep despair;
71
And almost justified to rob.
If those we loudly censure, plac'd
On thrones, by tyrants oft disgrac'd;
Who slaughter with unfeeling hand,
And spread destruction through the land;
Allur'd by Glory's specious call,
And surnam'd heroes if they fall:
How should we execrate the wretch,
Or how his horrid portrait sketch,
Who pleas'd can in cool blood observe
His fellow-men unpitied—starve!
Sport with their hardships; at each shock
Of dire distress, inhuman mock!
Riot on their heart-rending woes,
His gold (curs'd gold!) increas'd with those!
No gilded mite he calls his own,
But cost some guiltless heart a groan:
From Grief's half-dried-up sluices brought
A tear, with many a pang of thought.
That groan, howe'er enlarg'd his purse,
Shall prove his everlasting curse;
That tear, just gushing from the eyes,
Against his crimes in judgment rise.
What covert then shall screen his head
From heav'n's vindictive sentence dread?
Vainly around imploring aid,
What tongue of angels intercede?
What arm, omnipotently great,
Snatch him suspended o'er his fate?
Ten thousand curses must conspire,
To heat eternally his fire;
To twitch him in life's quickest part,
And wreathe like adders round his heart.
On thrones, by tyrants oft disgrac'd;
Who slaughter with unfeeling hand,
And spread destruction through the land;
Allur'd by Glory's specious call,
And surnam'd heroes if they fall:
How should we execrate the wretch,
Or how his horrid portrait sketch,
Who pleas'd can in cool blood observe
His fellow-men unpitied—starve!
Sport with their hardships; at each shock
Of dire distress, inhuman mock!
Riot on their heart-rending woes,
His gold (curs'd gold!) increas'd with those!
No gilded mite he calls his own,
But cost some guiltless heart a groan:
From Grief's half-dried-up sluices brought
A tear, with many a pang of thought.
That groan, howe'er enlarg'd his purse,
Shall prove his everlasting curse;
That tear, just gushing from the eyes,
Against his crimes in judgment rise.
72
From heav'n's vindictive sentence dread?
Vainly around imploring aid,
What tongue of angels intercede?
What arm, omnipotently great,
Snatch him suspended o'er his fate?
Ten thousand curses must conspire,
To heat eternally his fire;
To twitch him in life's quickest part,
And wreathe like adders round his heart.
Behold! in yonder straw-thatch'd hut,
The door as in despair fast shut,
Around a hearth, where fire once burn'd,
With fix'd eyes on each other turn'd;
Almost by Mercy's self forsook,
Anguish deep stamp'd on every look;
Two wretched parents, ah! behold,
Pallid with want, and pinch'd with cold!
Wretched—not for themselves—alas!
Far deeper rankles their distress:—
Around, while husks would each revive,
Their offspring croud, scarce half alive.
One on the ground all ragged lies,
And staggers, if in act to rise!
Another gaunt, with piercing eye,
Would, famish'd, seize some guardless fly!
A third in fix'd attention dumb,
Rakes the parch'd ashes for a crumb!
Others, scarce, ah! with thought endu'd,
Mangle their very nails for food!
The melting father's forc'd to see
His darling sink upon his knee!
That round the mother's neck's decreed
To die in agony of need!
Deep, grave-like silence reigns about,
All's hopeless solitude throughout;
Save where, on broken rafter set,
Each little prattler's wonted pet,
Waiting his scanty pittance long,
The robin chaunts his doleful song.
The door as in despair fast shut,
Around a hearth, where fire once burn'd,
With fix'd eyes on each other turn'd;
Almost by Mercy's self forsook,
Anguish deep stamp'd on every look;
Two wretched parents, ah! behold,
Pallid with want, and pinch'd with cold!
Wretched—not for themselves—alas!
Far deeper rankles their distress:—
Around, while husks would each revive,
Their offspring croud, scarce half alive.
One on the ground all ragged lies,
And staggers, if in act to rise!
73
Would, famish'd, seize some guardless fly!
A third in fix'd attention dumb,
Rakes the parch'd ashes for a crumb!
Others, scarce, ah! with thought endu'd,
Mangle their very nails for food!
The melting father's forc'd to see
His darling sink upon his knee!
That round the mother's neck's decreed
To die in agony of need!
Deep, grave-like silence reigns about,
All's hopeless solitude throughout;
Save where, on broken rafter set,
Each little prattler's wonted pet,
Waiting his scanty pittance long,
The robin chaunts his doleful song.
What heart, that e'er compunction felt,
Would not o'er such distresses melt?
What but a monster's cas'd in steel,
And form'd incapable to feel?
Shall we to savage-wilds repair,
To find this human monster there?
On some inhospitable shore,
With tygers, wolves, and bears, explore?
No; in Britannia's native streets,
One daily such a monster meets.
Haste, reader, his dread haunts escape,
A vulture for his prey agape.
And Oh! the servile task excuse,
So foul a picture to peruse.
The pen how despicably mean,
To touch a subject so unclean!
That had contended for the bays
In some immortal hero's praise;
Such heroes as Britannia boasts,
The grace and bulwark of her coasts !
How could the numbers condescend
With such a pigmy to contend!
How prostitute their sacred rage,
A worm on dunghills to engage!
Yet, for amends, we next shall add
A character not quite so bad;
So, gentle reader, pray compose
Your ruffled brow, and straight your nose.
Would not o'er such distresses melt?
What but a monster's cas'd in steel,
And form'd incapable to feel?
Shall we to savage-wilds repair,
To find this human monster there?
On some inhospitable shore,
With tygers, wolves, and bears, explore?
74
One daily such a monster meets.
Haste, reader, his dread haunts escape,
A vulture for his prey agape.
And Oh! the servile task excuse,
So foul a picture to peruse.
The pen how despicably mean,
To touch a subject so unclean!
That had contended for the bays
In some immortal hero's praise;
Such heroes as Britannia boasts,
The grace and bulwark of her coasts !
How could the numbers condescend
With such a pigmy to contend!
How prostitute their sacred rage,
A worm on dunghills to engage!
Yet, for amends, we next shall add
A character not quite so bad;
So, gentle reader, pray compose
Your ruffled brow, and straight your nose.
| Original poems on several subjects | |