 | American poems, selected and original |  |
[Let sage discretion the gay world despise]
From the American Magazine, for May 1788.
UTRUM HORUM MAVIS, ELIGE.
Let sage discretion the gay world despise;
Let dull philosophers o'er lamps grow wise,
Like bees their summer providently waste,
And hoard that treasure which they ne'er shall taste;
Let statesmen court the bubble of applause,
And staring cry for sumptuary laws;
Let peevish prelates in devotion kneel,
And curse that pleasure which they try to feel;
Life is a blessing, use it as you can,
And the best purpose of that blessing scan.
All human reason is no more than this,
To guide our footsteps in the realms of bliss;
While, as in drinking, so in life, the will
Must bound our joy, and dictate what to fill.—
Live freely then; for if thy life offend
'Tis ne'er too late to alter and amend:
But should you hesitate the season's lost,
As backward fruits are subject to the frost.
Then, if true spirit every hope inflame,
Mark well the lesson of my proffer'd fame.
Let dull philosophers o'er lamps grow wise,
Like bees their summer providently waste,
And hoard that treasure which they ne'er shall taste;
Let statesmen court the bubble of applause,
And staring cry for sumptuary laws;
Let peevish prelates in devotion kneel,
And curse that pleasure which they try to feel;
Life is a blessing, use it as you can,
And the best purpose of that blessing scan.
All human reason is no more than this,
To guide our footsteps in the realms of bliss;
While, as in drinking, so in life, the will
Must bound our joy, and dictate what to fill.—
223
'Tis ne'er too late to alter and amend:
But should you hesitate the season's lost,
As backward fruits are subject to the frost.
Then, if true spirit every hope inflame,
Mark well the lesson of my proffer'd fame.
First trace the limits of thy deffin'd sphere:
Here rest thy wisdom, thine ambition here.
'Tis not each clown that triumphs, tho' he dare
Aspire to charm and captivate the fair;
'Tis not each witling who the ape displays,
That strikes our fancy, or provokes our praise:
But would you sin, be sinful with a grace—
Inaptitude can even vice debase.
Search then your genius, every bent survey,
And where she prompts be ready to obey.
See thro' this crowd where brilliant prospects rise
The chace how luring, and how rare the prize!
The paths of pleasure to no bounds confin'd,
As in their shape, are various in their kind.
Fix then thy province, make thy talents good,
And be a fop, a gentleman, or blood.
Here rest thy wisdom, thine ambition here.
'Tis not each clown that triumphs, tho' he dare
Aspire to charm and captivate the fair;
'Tis not each witling who the ape displays,
That strikes our fancy, or provokes our praise:
But would you sin, be sinful with a grace—
Inaptitude can even vice debase.
Search then your genius, every bent survey,
And where she prompts be ready to obey.
See thro' this crowd where brilliant prospects rise
The chace how luring, and how rare the prize!
The paths of pleasure to no bounds confin'd,
As in their shape, are various in their kind.
Fix then thy province, make thy talents good,
And be a fop, a gentleman, or blood.
Happy the first, who studious to dispense
With all the cumberous pedantry of sense,
Knows no ambition but the pride of dress,
And for that toy can every wish suppress:
Whose natal bounties, like the fly's, consist
In two short words, to flutter and exist.
If to such fame thine emulation turn,
Hear his pursuits, and from example learn.
—'Till ten the morn is squander'd in his bed;
One precious hour's devoted to his head;
Another's finish'd ere, his dress complete
From top to toe be critically neat;
Then he struts forth to greet his kindred beaux,
And urge some tardy tradesman for his clothes;
Or mid the town to saunter and to stare,
And kill an hour or two he knows not where.
In the noon's bustle, vacant and serene,
He deals in bows, his business to be seen:
Perhaps united to some fair he meets,
From shop to shop pursues her thro' the streets;
For the last fashions stimulate her pride,
And on the modes he's zealous to decide.
Next his soil'd charms he hastens to repair,
To give a finer polish to his hair,
His every grace with every art entwine,
And form his looks more strikingly divine;
Till the last, noblest pastime of the day,
To his bright zenith summons him away.
There, in the circle of some coterie,
Rous'd by the exhilirating fumes of tea,
View him, triumphant, with unrivall'd fame,
Attract each ogle, and each breast inflame;
To every sense a magic thrill impart,
And steal thro' all the mazes of the heart.
With all the cumberous pedantry of sense,
Knows no ambition but the pride of dress,
And for that toy can every wish suppress:
Whose natal bounties, like the fly's, consist
In two short words, to flutter and exist.
If to such fame thine emulation turn,
Hear his pursuits, and from example learn.
224
One precious hour's devoted to his head;
Another's finish'd ere, his dress complete
From top to toe be critically neat;
Then he struts forth to greet his kindred beaux,
And urge some tardy tradesman for his clothes;
Or mid the town to saunter and to stare,
And kill an hour or two he knows not where.
In the noon's bustle, vacant and serene,
He deals in bows, his business to be seen:
Perhaps united to some fair he meets,
From shop to shop pursues her thro' the streets;
For the last fashions stimulate her pride,
And on the modes he's zealous to decide.
Next his soil'd charms he hastens to repair,
To give a finer polish to his hair,
His every grace with every art entwine,
And form his looks more strikingly divine;
Till the last, noblest pastime of the day,
To his bright zenith summons him away.
There, in the circle of some coterie,
Rous'd by the exhilirating fumes of tea,
View him, triumphant, with unrivall'd fame,
Attract each ogle, and each breast inflame;
To every sense a magic thrill impart,
And steal thro' all the mazes of the heart.
Next let us view the Gentleman at ease,
Too rich to toil, too indolent to please;
Whose days, unharrass'd by desire or woe,
In one smooth stream uninterrupted flow;
Born to no end, for no one purpose fit,
A load of vanity, a grain of wit,
Who, far remov'd from every wordly strife,
Lives for himself, and sleeps away his life.
Too rich to toil, too indolent to please;
Whose days, unharrass'd by desire or woe,
In one smooth stream uninterrupted flow;
225
A load of vanity, a grain of wit,
Who, far remov'd from every wordly strife,
Lives for himself, and sleeps away his life.
If to the third thy happier choice incline,
And thy warm genius as a Blood would shine,
Be the first caution, in thy bold career,
To shun low comrades, and a vulgar sphere:—
The great unpunish'd, from their rank, offend;
But humbler culprits with the laws contend.—
Then if some revel, or a midnight joke,
Insult our slumbers, or the watch provoke,
Thy looks can wrest stern justice from the scale,
Suspend her frowns, and snatch thee from a jail.
Let dauntless spirit animate thy soul,
No fears restrain thee, and no threats controul;
Whether, in hunting, at an arm's expence,
You dash a furious courser o'er a fence;
Or, at the bottle, be thy matchless boast,
To sit the longest, and to drink the most:
So shall thy fame to wonderous heights ascend;
And every rake shall hail thee as a friend.
And thy warm genius as a Blood would shine,
Be the first caution, in thy bold career,
To shun low comrades, and a vulgar sphere:—
The great unpunish'd, from their rank, offend;
But humbler culprits with the laws contend.—
Then if some revel, or a midnight joke,
Insult our slumbers, or the watch provoke,
Thy looks can wrest stern justice from the scale,
Suspend her frowns, and snatch thee from a jail.
Let dauntless spirit animate thy soul,
No fears restrain thee, and no threats controul;
Whether, in hunting, at an arm's expence,
You dash a furious courser o'er a fence;
Or, at the bottle, be thy matchless boast,
To sit the longest, and to drink the most:
So shall thy fame to wonderous heights ascend;
And every rake shall hail thee as a friend.
But, if thy soul such base ambition spurn,
And in thy breast a purer spirit burn,
Leave such poor laurels to the brows of Youth;
And place thy zeal in wisdom and in truth.
Then, in thy way, tho mean temptation rise,
The task discourage, or the world despise,
Proceed—
Until the triumph of thy worth record
That virtue is the surest, best reward.
The Fop, whose merits on his charms depend,
May gain a mistress, but will lose a friend;
The Blood will tell thee, ere he quit the stage,
That joy of youth's the misery of age;
And the deluded Idler, with remorse,
Will own a blessing what he fear'd a curse;
But he whose wisdom, such desires withstood,
Unites his pleasure with his greatest good,
Knows not misfortune, tho a fair one frown,
His wealth escape him, and his friends disown;
But, firm in what he is, in what he may be, blest,
Feels an unvaried sun-shine in his breast.
And in thy breast a purer spirit burn,
Leave such poor laurels to the brows of Youth;
And place thy zeal in wisdom and in truth.
Then, in thy way, tho mean temptation rise,
The task discourage, or the world despise,
Proceed—
226
That virtue is the surest, best reward.
The Fop, whose merits on his charms depend,
May gain a mistress, but will lose a friend;
The Blood will tell thee, ere he quit the stage,
That joy of youth's the misery of age;
And the deluded Idler, with remorse,
Will own a blessing what he fear'd a curse;
But he whose wisdom, such desires withstood,
Unites his pleasure with his greatest good,
Knows not misfortune, tho a fair one frown,
His wealth escape him, and his friends disown;
But, firm in what he is, in what he may be, blest,
Feels an unvaried sun-shine in his breast.
| American poems, selected and original | |