The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse :: :: University of Virginia Library

Why will proud Wealth expend in pompous Domes,
What would erect a hundred rustic homes?
Or lavish, on their vain internal store,
What might accommodate a hundred more?
Why dress in gorgeous robes, profusely grand,
Whose cost might clothe a Hamlet's humble Band?
Why melt in daily mess, and choicest cheer,
More price than Peasants' household round the Year?
While idling Imps destroy in wanton waste
What would afford poor hords their full repast!
Why wickedly delude gay dangling groups,
To thin the Town's, and Country's, labouring troops;
And on menial Males more cost bestow,
In food and raiment, hire and shining show
More than the useful troops of thought and toil,
Who ply the plastic tool, or till the soil—
More than maritime Crews, and martial Corps,
That guard their dwellings, and protect their shores—
Ev'n more than rural Priests, who humbly plod,
For grievous wages, in the work of God!

How much more wise, and blest, the World would be,
To make each mass recruits for Land, or Sea—
To purge away such weak, and proud, parade,
And turn such tools to instruments of Trade.
Much better such utensils were bestow'd,
To till each waste, and turnpike every road—
Proud equipages chang'd, and tawdry trains,
To teams, ploughs, waggons, carts, and surpliced Swains;
And Maids, so frail, so finical, so fine,
To tend the poultry, and to milk the kine;
And form new families with useful hands,
To furnish Arts, and crop fresh-cultur'd Lands.

Can sumptuous dwellings true delights increase?
Crown every Day with Pleasure? Night with Peace?
Can splendid furniture th' Conscience calm,
Or heal its bleeding wounds with genuine balm?
Can Friends' false portraits that pure Faith supply
Which wakes the Heart with Hope, and Love, and Joy?
Can gaudy garb, and multifarious mess,
Shut Sickness out, or pain, and grief repress?
Can sparkling Caskets, like the Gospel's page,
Give Peace and Comfort in declining Age?
Yield Consolation like Heav'n's purer Pearl,
Amidst a careless World's continual whirl?
Can prancing Coursers, and imperial Coach,
Outstrip rude Time, or stop fell Fate's approach?
Can heedless, hireling troops protect the heart
Against insidious Death's impending dart?
Objects of pity, all! by Ease unblest!
Bold Beggary's pupils! base burglarious pest!
Mean Ministers of Idols! Pride's proud Elves!
Who bow to Others, but adore Themselves—
Amid their Luxury, and their liveries brave,
Each braggart Spirit a most sordid Slave!
And what are all their proud Employers? what?
Rank weeds, on dunghills growing—soon to rot!
Frail moths that flutter thro' their Summer's day!
Blind Butts of mockery! pamper'd Beasts of prey!
Gay lamps, that guide to riot, or to rout,
Or tallow lights, that with gross stench go out!
Hot meteors flying in their fiery cars,
Or wandering, fleeting, cometary stars—
Planets that round some splendid Monarch move,
Impell'd by every impulse but pure Love!
Still urging on, dull days, and noisey nights,
Their trains of secondary Satellites!

Concentric circles—where each Orb, that rolls,
Presents equator, hot; or icey poles—
Their temperate zones, of Friendship, none e'er sees,
But burn, intensely, or intensely freeze!
All move, revolving, as by magic spells;
Self-love attracts, Caprice, or Pride, repels;
While, eager, every Individual runs,
To feel the influence of their central Suns!
Systems, confus'd! where Dupes and Despots toil,
All mock'd by Machiavelian frown, or smile!
For thro' those Clowns, and Courtiers, up to Kings,
From selfish motives each prompt motion springs!
Whirlpools of Time, and Treasure! Urns of Trust!
That pay back bubbles, dim, or blinding dust!
Volcanos! which, tho' calm, sublime they stand,
Like proud protectors o'er their native Land;
But, in each burning bosom, still conceal,
Fell mischief, which, full oft, meek Neighbours feel!
Would scorch, with cruel heat, each prostrate plain,
Did not the hand of Heav'n their wrath restrain;
Turn their fierce fires—reverse their vengeful aims,
And broil themselves, while belching furious flames!

Let not bold Wealth, in rude objections, rise,
Against such self-denying sacrifice.
Let Pride not say great Riches prove a right
To squander all in vain, or vile, delight—
Have not the Rich, as well as Poor, allow'd,
When, at baptismal font their Sponsors vow'd,
All pampering worldly Pomp should be denied,
As well as fleshly Lust, and devilish Pride?
And each, however bless'd with Pow'r, or Pelf,
Was bound to love his Neighbour like Himself.
How well such sacred compacts, now, are kept,
When Wealth's raw Tyros once become adept;
And Passion, Pride, and Lust, scout Christian care,
Let Palaces, and princely Domes, declare!
Let every public Place, and secret Cell,
The Court—the Camp—the School—the College, tell!
Plays—Operas—Bagnios—Balls—Fêtes—Taverns—Stews—
Routs—Concerts—Masquerades, confirm the News!
Where every Wight, thro' Wickedness, or Whim,
Stays not till Satan tempts, but all tempt Him!

Such Pomp and Pride, at first, was never kown,
Till Man's Ambition built and climb'd a Throne;
Each hoping to enlarge the Serpent's lie,
Becoming prouder Gods, thus perch'd so high!
Adam ne'er nourish'd up an idle Child,
Nor pious Noah one Descendant spoil'd!
The Patriarch' patroniz'd no lazy Lout—
Ev'n Prophets, and Apostles, liv'd without—
Nor Heav'n's obedient Heirs in aftertimes,
Offended Christ with such audacious crimes,
But to His holy Will most humbly bent,
Each, bless'd with food, and coverings, felt content!
Nay, ev'n unmatch'd Messiah, whose command
Extended, uncontroul'd, o'er Sea and Land,
Had not a hut wherein to lay His head,
But, daily, labour'd, long, for daily Bread!
Tho' Man's whole Race was subject to His call,
Yet He assum'd no Sovereign Pomp at all!
Tho' hosts of Heav'n His high behests obey'd,
Still, He, by them, ordain'd no proud parade!
Ne'er aim'd to gain by sceptre, sword, or spear,
Grandeur, or pow'r, or high dominion here!
No legions levied—no vain flags unfurl'd—
He sought no Kingdom in this nether World:
And all who fear His wrath, and feel His rod,
Will give all glory to their Saviour God!

Know this, and shudder, all, ye shameless Great!
Who strive to stablish arbitrary State;
How much unlike your Lord—mild—lowly—meek!
Who idol honours, godlike glory, seek;
Unmeet for Man below—or Hosts above—
No Creature claims them in the realms of Love!
You, who, like Deities, demand such Pow'r,
Unbounded—as by Deeds of heav'nly Dow'r!
Who o'er this Globe, as Gods, would wish to reign,
Like Lucifer all vengeful—false—and vain!
In haughty temples place each impious shrine,
Demanding, from your Vassals, dues divine!

In linen, fine, and Fashion's garments, gay,
Still faring sumptuous every passing day!
You, who base honours mutually bestow,
Have had your consolations all below!
Who, labouring, plod, in pain, for frail applause—
Who know not Christ, nor live by christian Laws—
Who aim no high'r than Titles, Pow'r, and Wealth,
Regardless of all Grace, and heavenly Health—
All proudly boasting your superior Birth
But live like Brutes—mere habitants of Earth!

Devoid of virtuous Love; pure Faith, and Fear;
As tho' no Gospel—God—or Hope, was here!
Peruse no Page in Heav'n's unblemish'd Book,
Nor e'er to awful Judge, or Judgment, look—
Yes, weakly look, while full of worldly leav'n,
To reach, and relish, holy joys in Heav'n!

Can You e'er hope with Him in Heav'n to reign
Who pinch His Children, here, with woe and pain?
Who wound, with thorns, again, His glorious head,
By pointed sorrows, round their pillows spread?
You mock and persecute the christian Chief,
Who scourge His faithful Friends with causeless grief!
Again, in them, their Saviour crucify,
And thro' their hearts to His the spear apply!
Their hands, and feet, with toil, and travail, flead,
Make His, with recent lacerations, bleed!
You, as wild asses' colts, like others, born,
His kindly precepts, pure example, scorn!
You seldom seek the broken hearts to bind,
To help the lame, or lead the abject blind!
The griev'd, and needy, ne'er, as Neighbours, greet,
Much less, like Servants, wash Inferiors' feet!
But rarely make meek Innocence amends,
Or, faithfully, forgive repentant Friends—
Much less to Strangers open house, and purse,
Befriend your Foes, or bless the Fools that curse!
In others eyes the smallest mote make known;
But ne'er perceive the beam that blinds your own!
At gnats of etiquette intensely strain,
While swallowing camel-crimes for gust, or gain!
Such beasts may easier pass thro' needles' eyes,
Than You, with Wealth so laden, climb the skies!
Intemperate feasts You frequently provide,
To fatten fatness, and to pamper pride;
Rich Neighbours calling to be call'd agen,
But send no summonses to meaner Men!
Prepare proud banquets to be paid in kind,
Not strengthening meals for poor, and maim'd, and blind;
But Worth, in want, imperiously spurn
For Penury can impart no rich return!
Some filthy fragments of luxurious treat,
That Sycophant, or Servant, scorns to eat—
Some sapless flesh, stale rinds, dry crusts, provide,
That supercilious Cook has cast aside;
But dainty dish, for private use put by,
Become quite mouldy, stinking, dull, or dry,
That oft had grac'd the table, rich, or rare,
Some shameless beggar—dog—or dust-hole share!
Such Friends, on Friends, confer a ready dow'r—
Honour bestows on Honour—Pow'r on Pow'r—
Greatness to Greatness gives, and Pelf to Pelf—
All forming circles—every centre Self—
But Labour, lowly—Piety, when poor,
Are driven, indignant, from your friendless door!
Such liberality will God regard?
No!—Such have, here, receiv'd their whole reward!