Poems original and translated By John Herman Merivale ... A new and corrected edition with some additional pieces |
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| IMITATIONS AND PARODIES. |
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 | Poems original and translated |  |
249
IMITATIONS AND PARODIES.
SONG.—“COULD A MAN BE SECURE.”
Could a man be aware
Of the turmoil and care
That a life of ambition attend,
Would he not cast away
Every thought of to-day,
And trifle and dream without end?
Of the turmoil and care
That a life of ambition attend,
Would he not cast away
Every thought of to-day,
And trifle and dream without end?
Were the miser but told,
Once or ere he grow old,
“All the treasure you leave will be lost—
All the wealth that you've stored
Can no premium afford
To your ashes, nor profit your ghost”—
Once or ere he grow old,
“All the treasure you leave will be lost—
All the wealth that you've stored
Can no premium afford
To your ashes, nor profit your ghost”—
Could the soldier's stern eye
'Mid the battle descry,
Thro' the cannon's loud thunder and smoke,
What a shade of a shade
Is the idol he made,
And the altar he built, what a joke—
'Mid the battle descry,
Thro' the cannon's loud thunder and smoke,
What a shade of a shade
Is the idol he made,
And the altar he built, what a joke—
Could the sage, nigh his urn,
His vain learning unlearn,
But this one piece of knowledge to scan;
That, howe'er he may prize
The keen sight of his eyes,
Yet the blindest of creatures is man—
His vain learning unlearn,
But this one piece of knowledge to scan;
250
The keen sight of his eyes,
Yet the blindest of creatures is man—
Would the miser persist
Still in closing his fist,
The soldier his phantom embrace,
Or again at his book
The philosopher look,
And the same endless diagrams trace?
Still in closing his fist,
The soldier his phantom embrace,
Or again at his book
The philosopher look,
And the same endless diagrams trace?
Then no longer upbraid
That boon Nature has made
Stupid mortals to delve and to spin;
Were their labours untried,
And their books laid aside,
They'd soon fade and grow rotten within.
That boon Nature has made
Stupid mortals to delve and to spin;
Were their labours untried,
And their books laid aside,
They'd soon fade and grow rotten within.
FROM THE LAY OF A TROUBADOUR.
Ladye! for truth I you it tellThat God and Love accord right well,
Respect and Homage God doth prize,
And true Love doth not them despise.
God hateth pride and falsity,
And true Love loveth loyalty.
In courteous 'haviour God delighteth,
And gentle Love the same ne'er slighteth.
God listens to a worthy prayer,
And true Love shutteth not his ear.
251
SONG.—“SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE.”
O lady, could I e'er behold
That face so brightly beaming,
And not life's sunny hours regret
When infant Love lay dreaming
Upon thy breast of driven snow,
Beneath thine eye's blue languish?—
But, no! no! no! thy heart was safe;
It cared not for his anguish.
That face so brightly beaming,
And not life's sunny hours regret
When infant Love lay dreaming
Upon thy breast of driven snow,
Beneath thine eye's blue languish?—
But, no! no! no! thy heart was safe;
It cared not for his anguish.
The slighted boy at last awoke
From that distracted slumber,
And since has toy'd in sunny bowers
'Mongst beauties without number.
Yet still if by his pathway glides
That form at evening lonely,
Love every later dream forgets,
His first remember'd only.
From that distracted slumber,
And since has toy'd in sunny bowers
'Mongst beauties without number.
Yet still if by his pathway glides
That form at evening lonely,
Love every later dream forgets,
His first remember'd only.
So wandering spirits, are we told,
By sin from glory sunder'd,
If but a gale blow o'er them, fraught
With sweets from Eden plunder'd,
The furrow'd lines of guilt and care
Are at the moment vanish'd,
And all their native heaven returns,
As if they'd ne'er been banish'd.
By sin from glory sunder'd,
If but a gale blow o'er them, fraught
With sweets from Eden plunder'd,
The furrow'd lines of guilt and care
Are at the moment vanish'd,
And all their native heaven returns,
As if they'd ne'er been banish'd.
252
CHARADE.
A voice of wailing heard and loud lament
From Sinai's rocks to fruitful Lebanon—
The awful warning of destruction sent
To Nineveh the great, and Babylon—
Ruin, and utter desolation;
Thence to all nations, in the dark eclipse
Floundering and sinking, of religion's sun,
Denounced tremendous by the hallow'd lips
Of him, the inspiréd bard that wrote the Apocalypse—
From Sinai's rocks to fruitful Lebanon—
The awful warning of destruction sent
To Nineveh the great, and Babylon—
Ruin, and utter desolation;
Thence to all nations, in the dark eclipse
Floundering and sinking, of religion's sun,
Denounced tremendous by the hallow'd lips
Of him, the inspiréd bard that wrote the Apocalypse—
Behold my First. My Second lies conceal'd
In words impervious to the noon-tide beam
Where erst the mighty prophet who reveal'd
The monarch of Assyria's mystic dream,
And thence, borne onward by the viewless stream
Of unborn ages, to the searching eye
Of Faith has given its widest, amplest theme,
Was doom'd in youth by tyrant power to lie
A prey to fiercest beasts, who growl'd and pass'd him by.
In words impervious to the noon-tide beam
Where erst the mighty prophet who reveal'd
The monarch of Assyria's mystic dream,
And thence, borne onward by the viewless stream
Of unborn ages, to the searching eye
Of Faith has given its widest, amplest theme,
Was doom'd in youth by tyrant power to lie
A prey to fiercest beasts, who growl'd and pass'd him by.
—Both grandly dark—Behold yet darker frown
Through the thick gloom of ages past away,
Wearing the semblance of a kingly crown,
With streaming beard, and locks of iron gray;
Grim-visaged potentate, whose bloody sway
Crimsons the eternal snows that gird the pole;
Whose name yet lives remember'd in the day
When low in dust repentant bigots roll—
Low, and with ashes soil'd—behold! you have my Whole.
Through the thick gloom of ages past away,
Wearing the semblance of a kingly crown,
With streaming beard, and locks of iron gray;
253
Crimsons the eternal snows that gird the pole;
Whose name yet lives remember'd in the day
When low in dust repentant bigots roll—
Low, and with ashes soil'd—behold! you have my Whole.
THE ROADMAKERS:
A DOLEFUL BALLAD FOR THE YEAR 1825.
Ye road-makers of England,
Who sit and plan at ease,
Ah! little do ye think upon
Our cherish'd lawns and trees!
Give ear unto the gentlemen,
And they will plainly show,
All their cares and their fears,
When a-measuring you go!
Who sit and plan at ease,
Ah! little do ye think upon
Our cherish'd lawns and trees!
Give ear unto the gentlemen,
And they will plainly show,
All their cares and their fears,
When a-measuring you go!
This goodly land of freedom,
With all its bowers and halls,
Is turning fast to turnpike roads,
And prisons and canals.
The sylvan elves and fairies
Have vanish'd long ago;
Else what cries would arise
When a-mapping it you go.
With all its bowers and halls,
Is turning fast to turnpike roads,
And prisons and canals.
The sylvan elves and fairies
Have vanish'd long ago;
Else what cries would arise
When a-mapping it you go.
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How merrily we jogged it
O'er breezy hill and down,
Till grateful rest, at eventide,
Our daily toil did crown!
Now, all our roads must level be;
Our pleasant hills laid low;
Whilst the mail, through each vale,
Helter-skeltering doth go.
O'er breezy hill and down,
Till grateful rest, at eventide,
Our daily toil did crown!
Now, all our roads must level be;
Our pleasant hills laid low;
Whilst the mail, through each vale,
Helter-skeltering doth go.
Our music's sole provider
Must be the twanging horn,
Now every thrush has left its bush,
Each nightingale its thorn.
Then to the sound of coaches,
Since brooks have ceased to flow,
Long and deep be your sleep
Whilst a-rolling it you go.
Must be the twanging horn,
Now every thrush has left its bush,
Each nightingale its thorn.
Then to the sound of coaches,
Since brooks have ceased to flow,
Long and deep be your sleep
Whilst a-rolling it you go.
Here freedom once was cherish'd,
And Englishmen were bold
To call their homes their castles, and
Their lands secure to hold.
But you despise our liberties,
And laugh to scorn our wo,
O'er our land, act in hand,
Whilst a-parcelling you go.
And Englishmen were bold
To call their homes their castles, and
Their lands secure to hold.
But you despise our liberties,
And laugh to scorn our wo,
O'er our land, act in hand,
Whilst a-parcelling you go.
Our lords and knights of parliament
May grant what you require,
While you but press to dispossess
The humble country squire:
But keep from their park palings, or
Full soon they'll make you know
How they'll fight for their right,
If a-levelling you'd go.
May grant what you require,
While you but press to dispossess
The humble country squire:
255
Full soon they'll make you know
How they'll fight for their right,
If a-levelling you'd go.
You prate of public spirit,
And private ends pursue:
Our fathers fought at Agincourt,
Their sons at Waterloo.
Our woods, our bought inheritance,
Their blood hath made to grow;
And we'll flinch not an inch,
Though a bullying you go.
And private ends pursue:
Our fathers fought at Agincourt,
Their sons at Waterloo.
Our woods, our bought inheritance,
Their blood hath made to grow;
And we'll flinch not an inch,
Though a bullying you go.
If tyranny assails us,
When England is at war,
From any vaunting foreigners
We fear not wound or scar.
Then for our tyrants of the spade,
The pickaxe and the hoe,
All prepared stand on guard,
Whilst a-rampaging they go.
When England is at war,
From any vaunting foreigners
We fear not wound or scar.
Then for our tyrants of the spade,
The pickaxe and the hoe,
All prepared stand on guard,
Whilst a-rampaging they go.
Now courage, all brave gentlemen,
Your honours forth advance,
And yield to ne'er a despot yet,
From Scotland nor from France.
M---m would reduce us all
To break up stones, we know;
May our stones break his bones,
When a-hammering he'll go.
Your honours forth advance,
And yield to ne'er a despot yet,
From Scotland nor from France.
M---m would reduce us all
To break up stones, we know;
May our stones break his bones,
When a-hammering he'll go.
256
ADDITIONAL STANZAS FOR 1836.
But now M---m's reign is o'er,
And railways take his place,
And fourteen miles an hour, or more,
Is deem'd a snail's foot-pace.
“Annihilate both space and time,
To ease a lover's wo,”
None need pray, now-a-day,
While a-steaming it we go.
And railways take his place,
And fourteen miles an hour, or more,
Is deem'd a snail's foot-pace.
“Annihilate both space and time,
To ease a lover's wo,”
None need pray, now-a-day,
While a-steaming it we go.
If so the price of iron
Is risen cent. per cent.
(As one from Sheffield, t'other day,
Announced in parliament,)
What wonder, then, that foundry-men,
And lords of mines also,
O'er the land, hand in hand
With the levellers do go?
Is risen cent. per cent.
(As one from Sheffield, t'other day,
Announced in parliament,)
What wonder, then, that foundry-men,
And lords of mines also,
O'er the land, hand in hand
With the levellers do go?
Now town with country lunches,
And country dines with town,
And England is the picture of
The world turn'd upside down.
Their griding irons pierce our souls,
Their furnace makes us glow,—
May B---l broil as well
If a-tunnelling he'll go!
And country dines with town,
And England is the picture of
The world turn'd upside down.
Their griding irons pierce our souls,
Their furnace makes us glow,—
May B---l broil as well
If a-tunnelling he'll go!
257
SONG.—“THERE'S NOUGHT BUT CARE ON EVERY HAN'.”
There's nought but iron on every han',
On every road one passes, O!
What signifies the life of man,
That mow'd down like the grass is, O!
On every road one passes, O!
What signifies the life of man,
That mow'd down like the grass is, O!
Hark! how it crashes, O!
Whiz! how it flashes, O!
Now off we be, and what care we
For broken bones and gashes O?
Whiz! how it flashes, O!
Now off we be, and what care we
For broken bones and gashes O?
The war'ly race may riches chase;
But should their han's environ, O,
Great heaps untold of minted gold,
'Twere naething to bar-iron, O.
But should their han's environ, O,
Great heaps untold of minted gold,
'Twere naething to bar-iron, O.
Hark, &c.
Then gi'e to me on 'change to see
The shares look brisk and cheerie, O,
Geese, women, then, and pigs, and men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
The shares look brisk and cheerie, O,
Geese, women, then, and pigs, and men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
Hark, &c.
A' ye wha jeer, now haud your sneer;
Their sense your sense surpasses, O:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw
Was naething to the asses, O.
Their sense your sense surpasses, O:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw
Was naething to the asses, O.
Hark, &c.
258
Now Exe may change her clouted cream
With Bristol for molasses, O.
So be our theme, first, iron and steam,
And, after, men and asses, O.
With Bristol for molasses, O.
So be our theme, first, iron and steam,
And, after, men and asses, O.
Hark! how it crashes, O!
Whiz! how it flashes, O!
Now off we be, and what care we
For broken bones and gashes, O?
Whiz! how it flashes, O!
Now off we be, and what care we
For broken bones and gashes, O?
BALLAD—IN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS.
“Why should I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will,
Though in works of honest labour
I would fain be busy still?”
Of his goods against his will,
Though in works of honest labour
I would fain be busy still?”
Such the Sunday lesson taught us,
Sitting on our nurse's knee,
When the good old dame besought us
To be like the busy bee.
Sitting on our nurse's knee,
When the good old dame besought us
To be like the busy bee.
Now our neighbour's goods and chattels—
Nay, his house and land also,
Are no more than children's rattles,
Weigh'd with “bono publico.”
Nay, his house and land also,
Are no more than children's rattles,
Weigh'd with “bono publico.”
Now 'tis all—“push on, keep moving!”
Iron without, and coals within—
Levelling is term'd “improving,”
And to covet held no sin.
Iron without, and coals within—
Levelling is term'd “improving,”
And to covet held no sin.
259
Sure there's somewhat most bewitching
Breaking up another's land;
Tunneling, embanking, ditching,
Act of Parliament in hand.
Breaking up another's land;
Tunneling, embanking, ditching,
Act of Parliament in hand.
Once the realm was all o'er-ridden
By a lordly Nimrod crew:
Now to hunt's a thing forbidden
By the broker and the Jew.
By a lordly Nimrod crew:
Now to hunt's a thing forbidden
By the broker and the Jew.
Aristocracy was once the
Plague that ravaged our abodes;
But our plague is, for the nonce, the
Joint-stock-ocracy of roads.
Plague that ravaged our abodes;
But our plague is, for the nonce, the
Joint-stock-ocracy of roads.
THE ROAD TO GLORY.
Up, up, sons of Utility!
Up, and be stirring, boys, all round the borders!
Down, down, rank and gentility!
What are ye for, but to execute orders?
Up, and be stirring, boys, all round the borders!
Down, down, rank and gentility!
What are ye for, but to execute orders?
Yield, aristocracy! rule joint-stock-ocracy!
Drive, ye share-holders, your ploughshares before ye!
Mount, and make ready, then, colliers and foundry men—
Rail-roads and waggon trains whisk ye to glory.
Drive, ye share-holders, your ploughshares before ye!
Mount, and make ready, then, colliers and foundry men—
Rail-roads and waggon trains whisk ye to glory.
260
Rouse, rouse, Manchester, and Brummagem,
Sheffield, Newcastle, Leeds, Durham, and Bristol!
Burn lords! ransack and rummage 'em,
And at their heads hold your radical pistol!
Sheffield, Newcastle, Leeds, Durham, and Bristol!
Burn lords! ransack and rummage 'em,
And at their heads hold your radical pistol!
Yield, aristocracy, &c.
March, march, Force and Rapacity!
Push on, incessant indefinite movement!
Join hands, Fraud and Mendacity!
Who'll see your face thro' the mask of improvement?
Push on, incessant indefinite movement!
Join hands, Fraud and Mendacity!
Who'll see your face thro' the mask of improvement?
Yield, aristocracy, &c.
Speed, speed, lawyers and riflemen!
Now is the time for all manner of jobbery.
Look to yourselves—never stand on a trifle, men!
“Publicum bonum” will sanction the robbery.
Now is the time for all manner of jobbery.
Look to yourselves—never stand on a trifle, men!
“Publicum bonum” will sanction the robbery.
Yield, aristocracy! rule joint-stock-ocracy!
Drive, ye share-holders, your ploughshares before ye!
Mount, and make ready, then, colliers and riflemen—
Rail-roads and waggon trains whisk ye to glory.
Drive, ye share-holders, your ploughshares before ye!
Mount, and make ready, then, colliers and riflemen—
Rail-roads and waggon trains whisk ye to glory.
A NEW SONG UPON WHIG AND TORY.
Come listen, my boy, and I'll tell you a story
How 't has fared with old England betwixt Whig and Tory.
Whig stands for sour milk, as I've heard 'em declare,
And Tory's a savage, as rude as a bear,
Derry down, down, down derry down.
How 't has fared with old England betwixt Whig and Tory.
261
And Tory's a savage, as rude as a bear,
Derry down, down, down derry down.
The Whigs first were Round-heads—so call'd, 'tis averr'd,
From cropping their poll, tho' they scarce trimm'd their beard;
While the bold Cavaliers, as they dash'd thro' the throng,
Kept their whiskers well shorn, though they wore their hair long.
Derry down, &c.
From cropping their poll, tho' they scarce trimm'd their beard;
While the bold Cavaliers, as they dash'd thro' the throng,
Kept their whiskers well shorn, though they wore their hair long.
Derry down, &c.
These Round-heads—it happen'd—cut off a king's head;
But the Cavaliers brought a new king in his stead:
When the first look'd so black for the loss of their power,
That the others declared they turn'd all the milk sour,
Derry down, &c.
But the Cavaliers brought a new king in his stead:
When the first look'd so black for the loss of their power,
That the others declared they turn'd all the milk sour,
Derry down, &c.
Now the proud Cavaliers, in the midst of their glories,
Look'd so fierce with their wigs, that the Whigs call'd 'em Tories;
And king James having leagued with the Pope, as they say,
Whig and Tory united to turn him away.
Derry down, &c.
Look'd so fierce with their wigs, that the Whigs call'd 'em Tories;
And king James having leagued with the Pope, as they say,
Whig and Tory united to turn him away.
Derry down, &c.
262
Then under brave Orange the Whigs ruled the roast,
And the Tories were voted rank scoundrels at most.
But—sly fellows—they managed to get good Queen Anne over,
And so stuck to their posts, till king George came from Hanover.
Derry down, &c.
And the Tories were voted rank scoundrels at most.
But—sly fellows—they managed to get good Queen Anne over,
And so stuck to their posts, till king George came from Hanover.
Derry down, &c.
Now down fell the Tory, and up rose the Whig,
And they ran the whole nation a deuce of a rig;
But poor Whig fell asleep while he guarded the fruit,
And sly Tory stole back, with the princess and Bute.
Derry down, &c.
And they ran the whole nation a deuce of a rig;
But poor Whig fell asleep while he guarded the fruit,
And sly Tory stole back, with the princess and Bute.
Derry down, &c.
Since then—to make short of this Whiggamore story—
Down, down, went the Whig, and up, up, went the Tory;
Till the Whigs, to get back, put to sea in a storm,
And braved Revolution in urging Reform.
Derry down, &c.
Down, down, went the Whig, and up, up, went the Tory;
Till the Whigs, to get back, put to sea in a storm,
And braved Revolution in urging Reform.
Derry down, &c.
Now let Whig and Tory be heard of no more;
But true Englishmen join, as they once did before,
To stick to the ship, having sworn to defend her;
So a fig for the devil, the Pope, and Pretender.
Derry down, down, down derry down.
But true Englishmen join, as they once did before,
To stick to the ship, having sworn to defend her;
So a fig for the devil, the Pope, and Pretender.
Derry down, down, down derry down.
| Poems original and translated | |