The three tours of Doctor Syntax In search of 1. The picturesque, 2. Of consolation, 3. Of a wife. The text complete. [By William Combe] With four illustrations |
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| X. |
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| XIV. |
| XV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. | CANTO XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
CANTO XVIII.
Let Grandeur blush, and think how few
Of all the many-colour'd crew,
The motley group of fools and knaves,
Who hourly prove themselves its slaves,
However Fashion gilds the dress, Attain the expected happiness:
Let grandeur blush, and blushing own
How seldom is to greatness known,
That pure and unimbitter'd lot Which often cheers the peasant's cot;
The hallow'd bliss, the nameless charm, That decorates the fertile farm.
Of all the many-colour'd crew,
The motley group of fools and knaves,
Who hourly prove themselves its slaves,
68
Let grandeur blush, and blushing own
How seldom is to greatness known,
That pure and unimbitter'd lot Which often cheers the peasant's cot;
The hallow'd bliss, the nameless charm, That decorates the fertile farm.
Thus Syntax ponder'd as his eye Survey'd the cheerful family:
Who 'round the breakfast-table seated,
With one accord his entrance greeted:
At the same time, they all express'd
Much sorrow that their rev'rend guest
Had order'd Grizzle to the door In order to pursue his Tour.
“Doctor, I'm griev'd so soon to part,”
Burst from the Yeoman's friendly heart;
“Yet hope, whene'er you this way come,
You'll not forget this is your home:—
You see how we poor farmers live,— A welcome's all we have to give;
But that's sincere—so come and try.” A few kind words were the reply.
Syntax once more his beast bestrode;
He bade farewell, and off he rode.
Who 'round the breakfast-table seated,
With one accord his entrance greeted:
At the same time, they all express'd
Much sorrow that their rev'rend guest
Had order'd Grizzle to the door In order to pursue his Tour.
“Doctor, I'm griev'd so soon to part,”
Burst from the Yeoman's friendly heart;
“Yet hope, whene'er you this way come,
You'll not forget this is your home:—
You see how we poor farmers live,— A welcome's all we have to give;
But that's sincere—so come and try.” A few kind words were the reply.
Syntax once more his beast bestrode;
He bade farewell, and off he rode.
Now Nature's beauties caught his eye, Array'd in gay simplicity:
And as he pass'd the road along, The blackbird's note, the thrush's song,
With musical and native mirth, Seem'd to do homage to his worth:
The vary'd landscape here combined To fascinate the eye and mind,
To charm the gazer's ev'ry sense From the commanding eminence.
Th'expanding plain, with plenty crown'd,
Diffuses health and fragrance round;
While, on a lofty, craggy height, A castle rises to the sight,
Which in its day of strength and pride,
The arms of threat'ning foes defy'd.
Beneath the mouldering abode In mazy course a riv'let flow'd;
And free from the tempestuous gale, Its silent stream refresh'd the vale:
The vale the scatter'd hamlet cheer'd,
And many a straw-roof'd cot appear'd;
While smiling groupes at ev'ry door Spoke grief a stranger to the poor.
With pious thought and eye serene,
Syntax survey'd th'enchanting scene,
And thus in grateful mood began: “So deals th'Omnipotent with man.
Such are thy gifts, all gracious power, To us, the creatures of an hour!
And yet how oft we barter these, How oft we risk our health and ease,
Thy best bequest, thy choicest treasure,
For follies which we misname pleasure:
And slaves to vanity and art, Check the best feelings of the heart.—
How the scene charms the ravish'd eye; I cannot, will not pass it by!”
He said,—and from his pocket took His pencil and his sketching-book;
While Grizzle, in contented mood, Close by her busy master stood:
When, clouds of dust proclaim'd th'approach
Of something Syntax deem'd a coach.
Four wheels in truth it had to boast, Although what it resembled most
Were hard to say: suffice, this tub
Was built in London, where a club,
Yclept Four-horse, is now the rage, And fam'd for whims in equipage;
Dashers! who once a month assemble:
Make creditors and coachmen tremble;
And dress'd in colours vastly fine, Drive to some public-house to dine;
There game, and drink, and swear, and then—
Drive in disorder back again.
And as he pass'd the road along, The blackbird's note, the thrush's song,
With musical and native mirth, Seem'd to do homage to his worth:
The vary'd landscape here combined To fascinate the eye and mind,
To charm the gazer's ev'ry sense From the commanding eminence.
Th'expanding plain, with plenty crown'd,
Diffuses health and fragrance round;
While, on a lofty, craggy height, A castle rises to the sight,
Which in its day of strength and pride,
The arms of threat'ning foes defy'd.
Beneath the mouldering abode In mazy course a riv'let flow'd;
And free from the tempestuous gale, Its silent stream refresh'd the vale:
The vale the scatter'd hamlet cheer'd,
And many a straw-roof'd cot appear'd;
While smiling groupes at ev'ry door Spoke grief a stranger to the poor.
With pious thought and eye serene,
Syntax survey'd th'enchanting scene,
And thus in grateful mood began: “So deals th'Omnipotent with man.
Such are thy gifts, all gracious power, To us, the creatures of an hour!
And yet how oft we barter these, How oft we risk our health and ease,
Thy best bequest, thy choicest treasure,
For follies which we misname pleasure:
And slaves to vanity and art, Check the best feelings of the heart.—
How the scene charms the ravish'd eye; I cannot, will not pass it by!”
He said,—and from his pocket took His pencil and his sketching-book;
While Grizzle, in contented mood, Close by her busy master stood:
When, clouds of dust proclaim'd th'approach
Of something Syntax deem'd a coach.
Four wheels in truth it had to boast, Although what it resembled most
Were hard to say: suffice, this tub
Was built in London, where a club,
Yclept Four-horse, is now the rage, And fam'd for whims in equipage;
69
Make creditors and coachmen tremble;
And dress'd in colours vastly fine, Drive to some public-house to dine;
There game, and drink, and swear, and then—
Drive in disorder back again.
Now Syntax, with some kind of fear, Beheld the vehicle draw near;
And, like her master, Grizzle too Was far from happy at the view;
For a long whip had caught her eye Moving about most rapidly;
Though little thought the hapless nag, The joke which the exalted wag,
Who held the reins with skilful hand,
Against both mare and master plann'd.
But now the curious Doctor spied The emblem of Patrician pride,
Which on the panels of the coach,
Proclaim'd a noble Lord's approach:
Nay, (as the facts will plainly prove it)
It was a noble Lord who drove it:
For 'tis well known to men of rank
That Lords will sometimes play a prank,
And thus indulge themselves in jokes As low as those of vulgar folks.
But 'tis not easy to express The wild surprise, the deep distress,
Which Syntax felt, when this same Lord
Aim'd at his back the flaunting cord;
And when the whip, with skilful turn, Was ill-applied to Grizzle's stern;
That stern, enough to make one shudder,
Which we all know had lost its rudder:
Her rage appear'd in either eye, And then she neigh'd indignantly.
Such seem'd she as when erst she bore A trumpeter to fields of gore;
When, in the battle's heat at large,
She led whole squadrons to the charge.
Thus Syntax, as she scour'd the plain, Indulg'd the moralizing strain.
“Can I, in this foul conduct scan The Peer, or well-bred Gentleman?
Or rather must not Virtue frown On such a high-born, titled clown?
Thus, then, do Nobles play the fool?
A conduct which in my poor school,
If 'mong my boys it dare appear; If they should ape that monkey there;
They for their fun should pay full dearly;
I'd whip the blackguards most severely.
But I'll not waste another word Upon this vulgar, booby Lord;
For I have something else to do, And Grizzle, what's become of you?”
A farmer's well-stor'd barn, hard by, Attracted her observing eye,
Where many a truss of fragant hay Induc'd the prudent beast to stay.
Meanwhile, her discontented master, Reflecting on the late disaster,
Pac'd slowly on, brimfull of care, And wonder'd who had got his mare.
Indeed he fear'd she might be found, Within the precincts of a pound;
But soon his quadruped he saw, Up to her girths in hay and straw:
While he who own'd the neighb'ring farm,
Prepar'd to raise his weighty arm;
And, having just observ'd the theft,
Brandish'd a horsewhip right and left,
(Alas! it cannot be denied,) To lay about on Grizzle's hide.
Syntax beheld the harsh intent: “Forbear,” he cried, “the punishment!
Why make her feel the chast'ning thong?
She knows not she is doing wrong.
Forgive my warmth, but truly, Sir, This suits not with the character
Of one who treads on British ground, A land for justice so renown'd:
I'll pay for all the straw that's wasted,
And all the hay that she has tasted:
Your courtesy I now invoke, So name the cost, and spare the stroke.”
The Farmer paus'd—as by a charm—
And dropp'd at once th'uplifted arm:
“Forgive me Sir, for what,” he cried, “Cannot, indeed, be justified;
But for my haste, I'll make amends;
So let us now, good Sir, be friends:
That is my house:—you'll enter there,
And, Thomas, take the Doctor's mare.
Come, rev'rend Sir, I'll lead the way:” The Doctor did not disobey,
And soon was met with welcome glee By all the Farmer's family.
At length some bus'ness of the day Summon'd the honest host away,
So Syntax thought he'd look about To find some curious object out;
When, lo! a dairy met his view, Where full of cream, in order due,
The pans, the bowls, the jugs were plac'd,
Which tempted the Divine to taste;
But he found something better there: A village damsel young and fair
Attracted his admiring eye; Who, as he enter'd, heav'd a sigh.
Now Syntax, as we all must know, Ne'er heard a sigh or tale of woe;
But instant wish'd to bring relief, To dry the tear and soothe the grief.
“Come here, sweet girl,” he softly said;
“Tell me your cares—nor be afraid:
Come here, and seat you by my side; You'll find in me a friendly guide.
Relate your sorrows,—tell the truth;
What is it? does some perjur'd youth
Unfaithful to his promise prove, Nor make the fond return of love!
'Tis so, I see; but raise your eye; On me, my pretty girl, rely:
You have my tenderest sympathy.
Again, I say, your grief impart; You've gain'd an int'rest in my heart;
For well I know the pangs they prove Who grieve for unrequited love.”
The list'ning mother, who had heard
Love talk'd of kindled at the word;
And rushing in express'd her rage:—
“For shame! for shame! while hoary age
Whitens your head, I see your eye Is beaming with iniquity.
Begone, you old, you wanton goat, Your heart is black as is your coat!
A Parson too! may Heaven forgive The wicked age in which we live!
I'll go and tell my honest spouse The snake he harbours in his house:
He'll give such hypocrites their due, I'll warrant it;” and off she flew.
And, like her master, Grizzle too Was far from happy at the view;
For a long whip had caught her eye Moving about most rapidly;
Though little thought the hapless nag, The joke which the exalted wag,
Who held the reins with skilful hand,
Against both mare and master plann'd.
But now the curious Doctor spied The emblem of Patrician pride,
Which on the panels of the coach,
Proclaim'd a noble Lord's approach:
Nay, (as the facts will plainly prove it)
It was a noble Lord who drove it:
For 'tis well known to men of rank
That Lords will sometimes play a prank,
And thus indulge themselves in jokes As low as those of vulgar folks.
But 'tis not easy to express The wild surprise, the deep distress,
Which Syntax felt, when this same Lord
Aim'd at his back the flaunting cord;
And when the whip, with skilful turn, Was ill-applied to Grizzle's stern;
That stern, enough to make one shudder,
Which we all know had lost its rudder:
Her rage appear'd in either eye, And then she neigh'd indignantly.
Such seem'd she as when erst she bore A trumpeter to fields of gore;
When, in the battle's heat at large,
She led whole squadrons to the charge.
Thus Syntax, as she scour'd the plain, Indulg'd the moralizing strain.
“Can I, in this foul conduct scan The Peer, or well-bred Gentleman?
Or rather must not Virtue frown On such a high-born, titled clown?
Thus, then, do Nobles play the fool?
A conduct which in my poor school,
If 'mong my boys it dare appear; If they should ape that monkey there;
They for their fun should pay full dearly;
I'd whip the blackguards most severely.
But I'll not waste another word Upon this vulgar, booby Lord;
For I have something else to do, And Grizzle, what's become of you?”
A farmer's well-stor'd barn, hard by, Attracted her observing eye,
Where many a truss of fragant hay Induc'd the prudent beast to stay.
Meanwhile, her discontented master, Reflecting on the late disaster,
Pac'd slowly on, brimfull of care, And wonder'd who had got his mare.
Indeed he fear'd she might be found, Within the precincts of a pound;
But soon his quadruped he saw, Up to her girths in hay and straw:
While he who own'd the neighb'ring farm,
Prepar'd to raise his weighty arm;
And, having just observ'd the theft,
Brandish'd a horsewhip right and left,
(Alas! it cannot be denied,) To lay about on Grizzle's hide.
Syntax beheld the harsh intent: “Forbear,” he cried, “the punishment!
70
She knows not she is doing wrong.
Forgive my warmth, but truly, Sir, This suits not with the character
Of one who treads on British ground, A land for justice so renown'd:
I'll pay for all the straw that's wasted,
And all the hay that she has tasted:
Your courtesy I now invoke, So name the cost, and spare the stroke.”
The Farmer paus'd—as by a charm—
And dropp'd at once th'uplifted arm:
“Forgive me Sir, for what,” he cried, “Cannot, indeed, be justified;
But for my haste, I'll make amends;
So let us now, good Sir, be friends:
That is my house:—you'll enter there,
And, Thomas, take the Doctor's mare.
Come, rev'rend Sir, I'll lead the way:” The Doctor did not disobey,
And soon was met with welcome glee By all the Farmer's family.
At length some bus'ness of the day Summon'd the honest host away,
So Syntax thought he'd look about To find some curious object out;
When, lo! a dairy met his view, Where full of cream, in order due,
The pans, the bowls, the jugs were plac'd,
Which tempted the Divine to taste;
But he found something better there: A village damsel young and fair
Attracted his admiring eye; Who, as he enter'd, heav'd a sigh.
Now Syntax, as we all must know, Ne'er heard a sigh or tale of woe;
But instant wish'd to bring relief, To dry the tear and soothe the grief.
“Come here, sweet girl,” he softly said;
“Tell me your cares—nor be afraid:
Come here, and seat you by my side; You'll find in me a friendly guide.
Relate your sorrows,—tell the truth;
What is it? does some perjur'd youth
Unfaithful to his promise prove, Nor make the fond return of love!
'Tis so, I see; but raise your eye; On me, my pretty girl, rely:
You have my tenderest sympathy.
Again, I say, your grief impart; You've gain'd an int'rest in my heart;
For well I know the pangs they prove Who grieve for unrequited love.”
The list'ning mother, who had heard
Love talk'd of kindled at the word;
And rushing in express'd her rage:—
“For shame! for shame! while hoary age
Whitens your head, I see your eye Is beaming with iniquity.
Begone, you old, you wanton goat, Your heart is black as is your coat!
A Parson too! may Heaven forgive The wicked age in which we live!
I'll go and tell my honest spouse The snake he harbours in his house:
He'll give such hypocrites their due, I'll warrant it;” and off she flew.
The Host arriv'd, but by that time, The false alarm, th'imputed crime,
Nancy had ventur'd to unfold, And mother now had ceas'd to scold;
While, the rude anger turn'd to mirth,
They all confess the Doctor's worth.
Nancy had ventur'd to unfold, And mother now had ceas'd to scold;
While, the rude anger turn'd to mirth,
They all confess the Doctor's worth.
Dinner was soon upon the table, And Grizzle feeding in the stable;
While joyful Syntax, once again, Forgot past accidents and pain;
And when night came repos'd his head In peace, upon the welcome bed;
But ne'er did he to sleep consign His weary limbs, till to the shrine
Of Heaven, he had address'd the prayer
Which ever finds admittance there.
While joyful Syntax, once again, Forgot past accidents and pain;
And when night came repos'd his head In peace, upon the welcome bed;
71
Of Heaven, he had address'd the prayer
Which ever finds admittance there.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |