The Birth-day with a few strictures on the Times; a poem, in three cantos. With The Preface and Notes of an Edition to be published in the Year 1782. By a farmer [i.e. Francis Douglas] |
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| I. | CANTO I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | The Birth-day |  |
CANTO I.
Invocation—Birth of the Prince—Visionary Representation, emblematic of his future reign—Idea of a pseudo Patriot—Party-spirit exemplified.
Hence peevish Care, and sullen Gloom,
And ever-musing Melancholy.
Come, smiling Mirth, in native bloom;
And distant be the noise of Folly.
And ever-musing Melancholy.
Come, smiling Mirth, in native bloom;
And distant be the noise of Folly.
Muse, tune the lyre, prepare the song,
To-day a future King is born;
Come, Echoe, every note prolong,
That marks the happy—happy—morn.
To-day a future King is born;
Come, Echoe, every note prolong,
That marks the happy—happy—morn.
12
While Frederick drops the tear of joy,
To see the Royal Infant smile,
Augusta, placid, views her Boy,
And hails him King of Britain's Isle.
To see the Royal Infant smile,
Augusta, placid, views her Boy,
And hails him King of Britain's Isle.
“Hope of Britons,” said the Sire,
“Prop of Brunswick's antient line,
“Live! to glorious deeds aspire,
“Every bliss on earth be thine!
“Prop of Brunswick's antient line,
“Live! to glorious deeds aspire,
“Every bliss on earth be thine!
“Auspicious on thy natal hour,
“Peace and Plenty joyous smile,
“Liberty, celestial power,
“Hails thee native of her Isle.
“Peace and Plenty joyous smile,
“Liberty, celestial power,
“Hails thee native of her Isle.
“Live, my Son, with her to reign,
“As a rock the tempest braves,
“Britain scorns the tyrant's chain,
“Britons never will be slaves.”
“As a rock the tempest braves,
“Britain scorns the tyrant's chain,
“Britons never will be slaves.”
13
Hark! the thund'ring cannons roar!
Fly the news from shore to shore;
Now the jocund bells strike in;
Now the festive rites begin.
See, unfurled in the skie,
Britain's dreaded banner fly;
As the Phoenix, from her urn,
Britain's happy days return.
See, in yonder opening gleam,
Justice with her scales and beam.
See, a hoary Sire appears ,
Part unroll'd his scroll of years;
While the hours around him play,
Ever joyous, ever gay.
See, a heaven descended pair,
(Virtue and her friends their care,)
Truth and Candor, drive a rout,
Never to return, thrust out.
Fly the news from shore to shore;
Now the jocund bells strike in;
Now the festive rites begin.
See, unfurled in the skie,
Britain's dreaded banner fly;
As the Phoenix, from her urn,
Britain's happy days return.
See, in yonder opening gleam,
Justice with her scales and beam.
See, a hoary Sire appears ,
Part unroll'd his scroll of years;
While the hours around him play,
Ever joyous, ever gay.
See, a heaven descended pair,
(Virtue and her friends their care,)
Truth and Candor, drive a rout,
Never to return, thrust out.
Murder, with her reeking blade;
Treason, from her lurking shade;
Rapine, callous, bold and fierce;
Foul Adultery! stain of verse;
Prying lying Party-spirit;
Bloated Envy, blind to Merit;
Faction, with her gibes and tales;
Folly, in her hood and bells;
Limping Lust, and meagre Mammon;
Luxury, with her jowl and gammon;
Ten good fellows, in a row,
Roaring, drinking as they go;
“Jolly Bacchus, thou art king!
“Io pean! form the ring,
“Men were born to drink and sing.
“Let the sparkling glass o'erflow,
“Time's a-going—let it go.”
Whigs and Tories, fiercely frowning,
Snarling, charging, and disowning;
A group of High and Low Church Hectors,
Stock-jobbers, Waddling-ducks, Directors;
Oppression, with her iron rod,
And Priests who seldom think of God;
Smooth Court-encomiasts, grave Detectors;
The bulwarks of the State, Projectors;
Pimps, Scriv'ners, circumcis'd in ear;
And gambling Patriots, close the rear.
Treason, from her lurking shade;
14
Foul Adultery! stain of verse;
Prying lying Party-spirit;
Bloated Envy, blind to Merit;
Faction, with her gibes and tales;
Folly, in her hood and bells;
Limping Lust, and meagre Mammon;
Luxury, with her jowl and gammon;
Ten good fellows, in a row,
Roaring, drinking as they go;
“Jolly Bacchus, thou art king!
“Io pean! form the ring,
“Men were born to drink and sing.
“Let the sparkling glass o'erflow,
“Time's a-going—let it go.”
Whigs and Tories, fiercely frowning,
Snarling, charging, and disowning;
A group of High and Low Church Hectors,
Stock-jobbers, Waddling-ducks, Directors;
Oppression, with her iron rod,
And Priests who seldom think of God;
15
The bulwarks of the State, Projectors;
Pimps, Scriv'ners, circumcis'd in ear;
And gambling Patriots, close the rear.
A Patriot! 'tis a sounding name,
The foremost on the list of Fame;
'Tis said, no minister can bribe him,
Describe him, honest Muse, describe him.
“He is, whate'er you please to make him;
“For arguments there are that shake 'im;
“(Forbid it, Calumny should mention,
“A place, a title, or a pension!)
“A creature of such various humours,
“That Rock could ne'er discuss his tumors;
“Still in the front of those who study
“To find or make court-waters muddy;
“Still hunting after little stories,
“As whilom did the Whigs and Tories;
“Retailing them with front of brass,
“And whoso doubts them is an ass;
“Or worse, a ministerial tool,
“For knave's a harder word than fool;
“He boasts the virtues of a Roman,
“Yet holds an honest man uncommon;
“Though reason'd down, seen through, out-voted,
“And turn'd against him all he quoted,
“Our plodding hero nothing shocks;
“(If I mistake, correct me, ------.)
“With an unbounded flow of words,
“Sharp-edg'd, as Don Ferara's swords,
“He hacks and slashes at the bench,
“As Ajax, when he storm'd the trench.
The foremost on the list of Fame;
'Tis said, no minister can bribe him,
Describe him, honest Muse, describe him.
“He is, whate'er you please to make him;
“For arguments there are that shake 'im;
“(Forbid it, Calumny should mention,
“A place, a title, or a pension!)
“A creature of such various humours,
“That Rock could ne'er discuss his tumors;
“Still in the front of those who study
“To find or make court-waters muddy;
“Still hunting after little stories,
“As whilom did the Whigs and Tories;
“Retailing them with front of brass,
“And whoso doubts them is an ass;
16
“For knave's a harder word than fool;
“He boasts the virtues of a Roman,
“Yet holds an honest man uncommon;
“Though reason'd down, seen through, out-voted,
“And turn'd against him all he quoted,
“Our plodding hero nothing shocks;
“(If I mistake, correct me, ------.)
“With an unbounded flow of words,
“Sharp-edg'd, as Don Ferara's swords,
“He hacks and slashes at the bench,
“As Ajax, when he storm'd the trench.
“Now, in the rear, he marks their motions,
“And minutes down their late promotions;
“With Nota Benes, Hows and Whys,
“And where each favourite's interest lies.
“Some have a sister, some a borrough,
“And others may have horns to-morrow;
“Some very poor, and therefore needy,
“And others blustering, bold and greedy.
“Some hope a regiment some a ribbon;
“And some have merit, witness Gibbon.
“And minutes down their late promotions;
“With Nota Benes, Hows and Whys,
“And where each favourite's interest lies.
“Some have a sister, some a borrough,
“And others may have horns to-morrow;
“Some very poor, and therefore needy,
“And others blustering, bold and greedy.
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“And some have merit, witness Gibbon.
“Now one by one he tries their strength,
“And some lays sprawling at their length;
“Some, smart, return him blows for blows;
“Some loudly call for Ayes and Noes:
“The pygmy champions take the field,
“And heroes, six feet high, must yield.”
“And some lays sprawling at their length;
“Some, smart, return him blows for blows;
“Some loudly call for Ayes and Noes:
“The pygmy champions take the field,
“And heroes, six feet high, must yield.”
Ah! in the direful war of tongues,
What waste of time, of breath, of lungs!
How many thirsty souls would die,
Had Bacchus not a temple nigh?
How many weary eyes would close,
But for the wondrous power of prose?
Verse yield the palm! when B---ke harrangues,
Attention on each period hangs;
Tho' Judgment reprobates a part,
Truth loves a generous honest heart.
If B---r---e thunders in your ear,
Or for a veteran drops a tear,
In Candor's equal ballance weigh,
What sterling Common Sense may say.
What waste of time, of breath, of lungs!
How many thirsty souls would die,
Had Bacchus not a temple nigh?
How many weary eyes would close,
But for the wondrous power of prose?
Verse yield the palm! when B---ke harrangues,
Attention on each period hangs;
Tho' Judgment reprobates a part,
Truth loves a generous honest heart.
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Or for a veteran drops a tear,
In Candor's equal ballance weigh,
What sterling Common Sense may say.
Some hold that tongues were only meant,
In aid of honours by descent;
To scare the birds that pick the corn,
Or roar, with bucks, “The early horn.”
To sing the Syren song of Folly,
Or gibe with serious things and holy.
Doff, doff your caps, ye new creations,
Ye lesser B---s know your stations!
Ronsaro, wiser than his teachers,
Is up to plead the cause of leachers.
Wise, witty, every thing but vain,
He spies a hag in Lambeth-lane,
With open mouth, gives chase, and cries,
“Holloa the witch!”—The culprit flies;
Craves the protection of his G---ce,
Who smiles to see the wild-goose chase.
In aid of honours by descent;
To scare the birds that pick the corn,
Or roar, with bucks, “The early horn.”
To sing the Syren song of Folly,
Or gibe with serious things and holy.
Doff, doff your caps, ye new creations,
Ye lesser B---s know your stations!
Ronsaro, wiser than his teachers,
Is up to plead the cause of leachers.
Wise, witty, every thing but vain,
He spies a hag in Lambeth-lane,
With open mouth, gives chase, and cries,
“Holloa the witch!”—The culprit flies;
Craves the protection of his G---ce,
Who smiles to see the wild-goose chase.
19
“Why, good my L**d, so wondrous witty?
“Reformer-general of the city,
“A place of great account”—“What then?”
“Awaits you: do I now speak plain?”
“Why faith, my L**d, I scorn a place,
“But if I can oblige your G**ce,
“But just command me.” “Well, you can,
“Consider only you're a man.”
“A man, my L**d, nay more, a ****,
“Who holds his honour very dear.”
“Then think, with candor of another:
“This worthy matron is your mother;
“She nurs'd you in your tender years,
“And on your front her mark appears.”
“Her mark! a freeman, nobly born,
“Church, Colleges, and Schools I scorn.”
“But not the place.” “Yes, ere the Sunday,
“Shall be a jota more than Monday.”
“'Tis more already. Sundry Acts—
“What need to condescend on facts?
“Say, shall we reverence the Laws?
“Or, nobly wild in Freedom's cause,
“Exclaim with Bardolph, from the stocks,
“I scorn your chains, your bolts, and locks;
“An Englishman I am, and demme,
“If Acts of Parliament shall tame me.”
“Reformer-general of the city,
“A place of great account”—“What then?”
“Awaits you: do I now speak plain?”
“Why faith, my L**d, I scorn a place,
“But if I can oblige your G**ce,
“But just command me.” “Well, you can,
“Consider only you're a man.”
“A man, my L**d, nay more, a ****,
“Who holds his honour very dear.”
“Then think, with candor of another:
“This worthy matron is your mother;
“She nurs'd you in your tender years,
“And on your front her mark appears.”
“Her mark! a freeman, nobly born,
“Church, Colleges, and Schools I scorn.”
“But not the place.” “Yes, ere the Sunday,
“Shall be a jota more than Monday.”
“'Tis more already. Sundry Acts—
“What need to condescend on facts?
20
“Or, nobly wild in Freedom's cause,
“Exclaim with Bardolph, from the stocks,
“I scorn your chains, your bolts, and locks;
“An Englishman I am, and demme,
“If Acts of Parliament shall tame me.”
Sick of the Patriot's worst disease,
To see a Minister at ease,
Frontino oft had singled out,
Primero, from the venal rout;
With dignity he dealt his blows,
And scorn'd to fight with meaner foes.
Of ready wit and fluent tongue,
(Which rather somewhat loosely hung)
Not over modest, nor too bold,
He knew the golden mean to hold.
But, ah! on one unlucky day,
Decorum left him on the way.
“Adieu,” he said, “I feel the lighter,
“Now have at all but crown and mitre!”—
To see a Minister at ease,
Frontino oft had singled out,
Primero, from the venal rout;
With dignity he dealt his blows,
And scorn'd to fight with meaner foes.
Of ready wit and fluent tongue,
(Which rather somewhat loosely hung)
Not over modest, nor too bold,
He knew the golden mean to hold.
But, ah! on one unlucky day,
Decorum left him on the way.
“Adieu,” he said, “I feel the lighter,
“Now have at all but crown and mitre!”—
21
The axle smokes, the pavement rings,
And keen Impatience claps her wings.
Now seated; from his threat'ning eye,
Contractors, Placemen, trembling fly;
Primero only durst abide it;
(If aught he fear'd, he well could hide it.)
Now bursts the storm, the Forum rings,
And Memory opens all her springs;
Unnumber'd evils done, or plotted,
She in her table-book had noted;
Solacing to the State, in labor,
As to the dying fife and tabor.
And keen Impatience claps her wings.
Now seated; from his threat'ning eye,
Contractors, Placemen, trembling fly;
Primero only durst abide it;
(If aught he fear'd, he well could hide it.)
Now bursts the storm, the Forum rings,
And Memory opens all her springs;
Unnumber'd evils done, or plotted,
She in her table-book had noted;
Solacing to the State, in labor,
As to the dying fife and tabor.
Provok'd, that nothing could provoke,
Frontino sigh'd and inly spoke;
“This coolness who the devil can bear!
“Swell Rhetorick, thunder in his ear!
“Touch every string that shakes the soul,
“Or he or I must lose the vole.
“Towers, axes, scaffolds, lend your aid,
“And let the long arrear be paid.
“Impeachment, rise! in all thy rage,
“And drive the caitiff off the stage.”
This to himself; the rest aloud,
Preambl'd with his Country's good.
“Shall this insidious sly Sejanus
“Divide the loaves tam multos annos;
“Ad libitum extend his taxes,
“And we move glibly round his axis;
“Corruption's muffl'd hand the while,
“Supplying store of rancid oil?
“Thus Ralpho, rosy sleek and fair,
“Well mounted on his daple mare,
“Enjoys the pleasures of the road,
“While dull pack-horses drag the load.
“Sic nos—Be firm, my Friends, be wise,
“Your trade declines, your taxes rise;
“From John-a-Groat's to Cornwall Point,
“All things are strangely out of joint.
“O Cives! Patres! heu, sic mores!
“Shall gallant Whigs give place to Tories?
“Friends! Citizens! awake to Fame!
“Is Public Virtue but a name?
“What wonders have our fathers done?
“What glorious battles fought and won?
“And shall their sons give up the field,
“While they have tongues and swords to wield?
“Give place to those who heretofore,
“Durst scarce come farther than the door;
“Who, if they hop'd a tidesman's place,
“Paid court a twelvemonth to his Grace.
“O fatal day to Britain's glory,
“When Whigs shall truckle to a Tory.
“Shall thus our suffering country groan,
“And we, her saviors, stand alone?
“O where is public virtue flown!”
Frontino sigh'd and inly spoke;
“This coolness who the devil can bear!
“Swell Rhetorick, thunder in his ear!
“Touch every string that shakes the soul,
“Or he or I must lose the vole.
“Towers, axes, scaffolds, lend your aid,
“And let the long arrear be paid.
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“And drive the caitiff off the stage.”
This to himself; the rest aloud,
Preambl'd with his Country's good.
“Shall this insidious sly Sejanus
“Divide the loaves tam multos annos;
“Ad libitum extend his taxes,
“And we move glibly round his axis;
“Corruption's muffl'd hand the while,
“Supplying store of rancid oil?
“Thus Ralpho, rosy sleek and fair,
“Well mounted on his daple mare,
“Enjoys the pleasures of the road,
“While dull pack-horses drag the load.
“Sic nos—Be firm, my Friends, be wise,
“Your trade declines, your taxes rise;
“From John-a-Groat's to Cornwall Point,
“All things are strangely out of joint.
“O Cives! Patres! heu, sic mores!
“Shall gallant Whigs give place to Tories?
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“Is Public Virtue but a name?
“What wonders have our fathers done?
“What glorious battles fought and won?
“And shall their sons give up the field,
“While they have tongues and swords to wield?
“Give place to those who heretofore,
“Durst scarce come farther than the door;
“Who, if they hop'd a tidesman's place,
“Paid court a twelvemonth to his Grace.
“O fatal day to Britain's glory,
“When Whigs shall truckle to a Tory.
“Shall thus our suffering country groan,
“And we, her saviors, stand alone?
“O where is public virtue flown!”
Then with the fire of twenty Hectors,
He calls for axes, rods, and Lictors.
But ah! in these degenerate days,
How cold the sacred love of praise!
The Lictors, deaf to Honour's call,
Can hear an angry Tribune bawl;
Unmov'd can hear; nor care a tester,
If they but eat, who shall be master.
He calls for axes, rods, and Lictors.
But ah! in these degenerate days,
How cold the sacred love of praise!
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Can hear an angry Tribune bawl;
Unmov'd can hear; nor care a tester,
If they but eat, who shall be master.
Repeaters, drawn from fifty fobs,
Announce a patience less than Job's;
Some plan a race, and some a meeting,
Where all agree, in what's good eating.
Sir Fopling gently twirls his cane,
And mourns the nymphs his face has slain;
While Auster over-leaps the ditches,
To storm the fox with dogs and bitches.
Announce a patience less than Job's;
Some plan a race, and some a meeting,
Where all agree, in what's good eating.
Sir Fopling gently twirls his cane,
And mourns the nymphs his face has slain;
While Auster over-leaps the ditches,
To storm the fox with dogs and bitches.
Primero, calmly bears the shock,
Nor beats his head against a rock;
He knows the strongest lungs must fail,
And, till exhausted, lets them rail.
Attack'd, in great Thersites stile,
The man has even dar'd to smile.
Sedate, as Mansfield on the Bench,
He neither scolds the Dutch nor French;
Can even the saints of Boston mention,
And hear them oil'd with great attention,
Nod o'er his panegyrist's flumm'ry,
Yet drop a tear to brave Montgom'ry;
Divide the rebel from the man,
And grant him all that virtue can.
Nor beats his head against a rock;
He knows the strongest lungs must fail,
And, till exhausted, lets them rail.
Attack'd, in great Thersites stile,
The man has even dar'd to smile.
25
He neither scolds the Dutch nor French;
Can even the saints of Boston mention,
And hear them oil'd with great attention,
Nod o'er his panegyrist's flumm'ry,
Yet drop a tear to brave Montgom'ry;
Divide the rebel from the man,
And grant him all that virtue can.
Tho' not an epicure in meats,
(As well it may be seen) he eats:
Thus great Sir Robert, heretofore,
Was bluff and jolly at threescore;
Thus honest Pelham grac'd his vest:
Of men and ministers the best.
Forbid that meagre skin and bone,
Should stand Palladium of the throne!
He drinks; but business never lingers;
He keeps no op'ra girls, nor singers.
So fond of peace, that all his life,
He never quarrel'd with his wife;
Their names unknown at Doctors Commons,
As Luxury to the antient Romans.
No surly porter at his gate,
Dares make the humble suppliant wait;
The wrong'd may of their wrongs complain,
And Justice never sues in vain.
(As well it may be seen) he eats:
Thus great Sir Robert, heretofore,
Was bluff and jolly at threescore;
Thus honest Pelham grac'd his vest:
Of men and ministers the best.
Forbid that meagre skin and bone,
Should stand Palladium of the throne!
He drinks; but business never lingers;
He keeps no op'ra girls, nor singers.
So fond of peace, that all his life,
He never quarrel'd with his wife;
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As Luxury to the antient Romans.
No surly porter at his gate,
Dares make the humble suppliant wait;
The wrong'd may of their wrongs complain,
And Justice never sues in vain.
All this Detraction sees, with pain,
Yet labours hard her point to gain;
For, from the Medway to the Forth,
The burthen of her song is N---th .
Is there a fop aware of fighting?
Or hackney scribe that would be writing?
N---th screens the one, and fees the other,
So sure as kitten sucks its mother.
Does a Contractor clear a plum?
Who doubts but he divides the sum?
Does an Exciseman wrong a dealer?
Or Clerk, in office, bilk his taylor?
All claim the ministerial wing;
All flows from the corrupted spring.
Yet labours hard her point to gain;
For, from the Medway to the Forth,
The burthen of her song is N---th .
27
Or hackney scribe that would be writing?
N---th screens the one, and fees the other,
So sure as kitten sucks its mother.
Does a Contractor clear a plum?
Who doubts but he divides the sum?
Does an Exciseman wrong a dealer?
Or Clerk, in office, bilk his taylor?
All claim the ministerial wing;
All flows from the corrupted spring.
Thus, vivid, to the mental eye,
The Muse brings distant objects nigh.
Thus, to her meanest votary kind,
With aspect mild, she spake her mind.
“Tho' Britain boasts a Prince her own,
“Before that Prince ascends the throne,
“Eight thousand suns shall set and rise,
“And many a wrestler yield the prize.
“Saint Stephen's Hall be thrice recruited,
“And Patriots, now ador'd, be hooted.
“The bloom on Celia's cheek shall fade;
“And many a virgin die a maid.
“Some, (which in antient times was worse,)
“Shall live the relicts of Divorce;
“Shall live the scorn and jest of all,
“From Hyde-park Corner to Whitehall.
The Muse brings distant objects nigh.
Thus, to her meanest votary kind,
With aspect mild, she spake her mind.
28
“Before that Prince ascends the throne,
“Eight thousand suns shall set and rise,
“And many a wrestler yield the prize.
“Saint Stephen's Hall be thrice recruited,
“And Patriots, now ador'd, be hooted.
“The bloom on Celia's cheek shall fade;
“And many a virgin die a maid.
“Some, (which in antient times was worse,)
“Shall live the relicts of Divorce;
“Shall live the scorn and jest of all,
“From Hyde-park Corner to Whitehall.
“These names, (for some are yet no more)
“Succeeding those that went before,
“Shall bounce their little while, and then,
“Another race shall seize the rein.
“From age to age the lust of power,
“Supplies of Patriots shall insure;
“And every Minister, by place,
“Be void of goodness and of grace.”
“Succeeding those that went before,
“Shall bounce their little while, and then,
“Another race shall seize the rein.
“From age to age the lust of power,
“Supplies of Patriots shall insure;
“And every Minister, by place,
“Be void of goodness and of grace.”
Probably the Author may have had in his eye, Frederick North, Esq; commonly called Lord North, whom we find at the head of the Treasury, for many years, in the reign of George the Third. He is said to have been a man of so happy a disposition that the attacks of Party-spirit never gave him a moment's pain. Well acquainted with the various forms she assumed, he could never be surprized. If, with a serious brow, she threatened vengeance, he neither changed colour, nor lost his temper. If, in lighter strain, she sported with his conduct and character, his defence was in her own stile. When her abuse became personal, he turned it aside so gently, and with so much good humour, that the hag became at last ashamed, and only snarled at his underlings. As a man, he had no enemies; though he had many as a minister; as indeed all ministers must have. Were it not for the damage which the Public would sustain, we could wish that some of those Gentlemen who think it so easy a matter to manage the great machine of Government, had a few months trial of it, when it would probably appear, that they are as fit for it as Phaeton was to guide the Chariot of the Sun. As the Author pays a higher compliment to Mr Pelham, who had been long dead, than any he has paid to Lord North, who may have been alive when he wrote, it clears him from the remotest suspicion of Flattery. True it is, those in power are generally flattered; but it is no less true, that an honest man will express his real sentiments, even of a minister. Add to this, that our Farmer was in his grand climacteric when he writ the Poem, and being totally unknown to Courts and Ministers, had nothing to hope.
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