Young Arthur :: :: University of Virginia Library

Juries by Alfred were invented;
That man knew “what was what!”
And Liberty she smil'd, contented,
Her cap to Albion then presented,
And chose our island as her fav'rite spot.
But “what is what!” how coarse the phrase!
In this trim golden age of taste;
When soft Refinement beams her rays,
And pretty poesy is grac'd
By such a train of trifles sweet!
Tripping with “many twinkling feet.”
The phrase was coarse I freely own,
In such an age, an age so prone
To that refinement whose soft ray—
In which the tiny trifles play
At blindman's buff I would have said,
But that had grossièreté betray'd—
Whose soft ray can by shining charm,
But never has the force to warm;

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Which flimsy fancy can control,
But never can excite the soul.
This the refinement now we boast,
Naïveté and nerve or stray'd, or lost;
O, dear refinement! lovely thing!
Gliding along with filmy wing,
Sweeping with grace a velvet green,
Where flowers to nature new are seen:
Lisping with language honied sweet,
With flowing liquids all replete,
Accenting for the softest ear,
While light sensations hover near
And catch the tone soft grace approves,
To whisper it to softer loves.
What art thou good for, flimsy fairy?
To cozen maids, nor wise nor wary;
The vigour of the mind efface,
The muscles melt, the nerves unbrace,
The fancy and the passions taint;
Thou velvet virtue! muslin saint!
Metheglin thou of unbrac'd health;
Thou plague! brought over here by stealth;
Thou illegitimate, between
Italia's glaze and Gallia's spleen;

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Thou beauty's line, not curv'd, but bandy,
Thou sense of dream and soul of dandy.
Refinement thou? thou tissue thing!
Not worth a feather of her wing.
Refinement thou?

Hogarth says the line of beauty is a curve.

A dandy is a new insect of the 19th century, it is a non-descript.

Art thou that grac'd, subliming, good
Who by Eve's flow'ry pillow stood,
When she, though sleeping, smiling lay
From dreams which innocence could bring,
Where angels' tongues beguil'd her way
Through paths where bloom'd eternal spring?
There stood refinement, stood and smil'd—
Refinement, Truth and Virtue's child.
Thou art the dream of wanton thought
Which all our woe and wailing wrought;
Rais'd by the serpent as Eve slept
Who to her ear, insidious, crept;
And, her chaste fancy having bound,
Charm'd from her ear all holy sound;
Gave her a zest for more than heaven
Had for her virtue's safeguard given.

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With innocence and peace the pair,
When truth's refinement join'd 'em there,
Delighted stray'd, nor ever knew
The blush of shame till taught by you;
The first adorning then was worn,
While the glad tempter laugh'd with scorn,
And mercy wept that ever shame was born.
Thou'rt an insidious fiend, a pest,
Cov'ring thy fair but faithless breast
(While blushing to attract the eye)
With such a cobweb drapery
As tells of all but modesty.
Thou art the pest that can'st beguile
Our virgins of th' ingenuous smile;
Thou art the lure that mak'st them lisp
Soft languishings, and curl and crisp
Their mincing words, and arm'st their smiles
With tricksy, tempting, wanton wiles.
Where is the gen'rous candid glow
Which spoke the soul of grace below?
Where is the true and heaven-born taste
That ne'er found charm but in the chaste?

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This jaundic'd by thy philtres see,
That drugg'd into an atrophy.
What is thy nature? what thy name?
That meretricious, this false shame.
O, Churchill, wert thou now alive,
Scarce would thy sharp correctives thrive
This mere green sickness of the mind
(For health too rarified) in curing;
Fancy to phantasy consign'd,
And all the poisonous passions join'd,
Beyond inditing or enduring!
But, to advert to our outsetting,
Alfred invented juries; not forgetting
That where the judgment rested in one breast
Some prejudice might start, and justice wrest
From her pure course; for artful mind
On reasoning oft has much refin'd;
For propositions found pretence
Built on sophisticated sense;
Making black white and white of sable;
As did judge Reynard in the fable.
I give the tale from Æsop's reading,
My own the precepts and the pleading;
Reader, be kind and give me quarter,
To Æsop's wine though I put water.

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A FABLE.

A plague once fill'd the beasts with dread,
Death on them fix'd and hourly fed;
With carcases the fields were strew'd,
The moor, the mountain, and the wood;
The lordly Lion, e'en appall'd,
A council of his subjects call'd.

“My friends” the humbled king begins,
“Heaven to repay our crying sins
This dreadful plague no doubt decreed;
Then to confession let's proceed:
And, when each has his crimes confess'd,
Let him who deepest has transgress'd,
Be sacrific'd for all the rest.
Heaven may the sacrifice receive,
Our crimes remit, and we may live.”

Wisdom ne'er fail'd a royal tongue;
The forest with rude plaudits rung.
The Fox, for wily wit far fam'd,
As judge was una voce nam'd;

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And now each, blushing for transgression,
In turn made, humbly, his confession:
Closing his pious penitential
With plea less pointed than essential.
The Lion first — “Ah, woe is me!
Where can a greater sinner be?
What herds have I by force o'erpower'd!
What numbers in my rage devour'd!
To me what injury had they done?
Alas! enormous sinner! none!
Nay once, 'tis true, with shame I speak,
See, tears of anguish scald my cheek”—
(And something like a tear-drop roll'd —
His majesty had, 'chance, caught cold)
“An herd I saw, a bullock slew,
Though glorious beef, that would not do —
Ah! wretch! I ate the herdsman too.”
His penitence here prov'd perfection,
He lick'd his chops from recollection!
His eyes too sparkled; that might be
The sparkling of grief's tear; then he —
“No palliation can I find
For crimes so dread; content, resign'd,

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I bow me to the stroke of death,
If justice asks my parting breath;
But, first, let all confession make;
Due cognizance then justice take,
And if with theirs my sins compar'd
Weigh down the scale, be pity spar'd,
Be fealty forfeited, and I,
The worst of sinners! justly die.”

Humbly he spoke, but look'd so fierce
His flashing eyes judge Reynard pierce,
Who trembling sat, but wisely knew
From Leo's contrite looks his cue.

The beasts again applauding roar:
Judge Fox with gravity conn'd oer
The royal sins, and thus exclaim'd —
“Such Acts would be as murder nam'd
If by your subjects done; but in
You, Sire, high sanction bars the sin.
You deign'd upon the herd to feed,
But they the act had guaranteed;
For where's the subject, day by day
And hour by hour, who fails to say

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O Sire accept our homage due,
Our lives devoted all to you?
Thus equity the act shall save,
You only took what they first gave.
Besides the rule has flourish'd long
That Royalty can do no wrong.
You ate the herdsman — here's a case
Which wears at sight a graver face;
But, when by justice made apparent,
You'll find no onus lies, I warrant.
Tho' o'er each beast high sway you bear,
Mankind superior nature wear;
Man, the great monarch of the earth,
So call'd, affects sublimer birth;
And claims all rule; suppose this reason,
The deed was positive high treason;
But man's our foe, and we disclaim
His right and rule; this bars the blame;
Denied his claim to sovereignty
The deed from censure must be free;
If “Coke on Littleton” starts grudge,
Consult the statutes, Fox on Fudge.
You ate the herdsman too; what then?
Necessity impell'd; and men

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Themselves allow, in ancient Saw,
That paramount to ev'ry law;
Hence, Sire, your pious fears may cease;
Go, rest in innocence and peace!”

Then down he sat; 'mid brute applause,
And look'd the importance of the laws;
Like some who judge 'mong human kind,
Who prove Dame Justice only blind
To crime in power, but powerless sinks
Beneath her piercing eye of Lynx.

And down he sat — the lion cast
A glance which approbation pass'd;
And look'd “I'll eat that fellow last.”

The Tiger next — “by hunger press'd
I've slain my share must be confess'd.”
“Enough” the Judge, “No fault there falls,
Hunger we know ‘eats through stone walls;’
And if by instinct we're directed
Are we not by its laws protected?”
The Leopard, “blood against me rises,
Goats, sheep, and lambs, have been my prizes;

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I see the crime, but knew not then
Its baseness; were 't to do again
I'd ne'er offend.” — The Fox replied,
“As ignorance was then your guide,
And as intention forms the guilt,
No law condemns the blood you spilt.”

The Bear succeeded — “In my time
I've slain enough, and own the crime;
The hapless victims cross'd my way
When hunger rag'd, and fell my prey.”
The judge — “If in your way they came,
You stand acquitted; their's the blame;
Against stone walls who run, insane,
Shall they of broken heads complain?”

The gaunt Wolf growl'd “My very name
Has grown a sound of guilt and shame;
With lawless range I prowl by night;
The shepherd tracks at morning light
My ruffian course, by blood marks common;
And once I supp'd on — an old woman.”

Reynard — “Allow'd you've kill'd your share,
But did the shepherd take due care

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To fold his flock, could you destroy?
His carelessness is your decoy;
Then let him bear the burthen, pray,
Who threw temptation in your way.
Your last crime must have been a dream;
Eat an old woman? this may seem
Contempt of court; proof all can bring
Mankind declare there's no such thing.
‘Non est inventus’ is your plea;
The bill's thrown out, and you are free.
But now, e'er further I proceed,
Myself will own each doubtful deed
I've done; e'en I, who sit as judge,
From this ordeal must not budge;
And where I've err'd, for nought I'll mask,
I pardon of dread justice ask!

“I've chickens eaten now and then,
‘Many's the time and oft’ an hen;
But mine's a frame of fragile make;
Study and public business shake
So much my nerves, that, without question,
I've hurt the organs of digestion.
And hence a doctor sage decreed
I ever must on white meat feed;

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I've grey and green geese ate, but, mark
'Twas when I caught them in the dark;
And there's a proverb sets me right,
‘All colour'd cats are grey at night.’
Hence you'll allow I had no mean mete
To prove them white, or grey, or green meat.

“Ducks as strong meat the sage forbid,
And did I eat 'em? yes, I did —
I one day eat fine ducks a dozen,
Which for the spit next day were chosen;
So dead in law was every creature,
And dead in law is dead in nature:
Disclaim'd by nature and by law,
Nonentity proves no faux pas.

“As sick folks must have white meat pickings,
This clears me of the hen and chickens;
An old game cock I chanc'd to stuff
Who, faith, for white meat was too tough;
But then his conduct cost him life,
With all he liv'd in endless strife;
Was of the place the very pest,
From day-break let no creature rest;

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And since the hour I stopp'd his tongue
Sleep has on ev'ry eye-lid hung;
Studious and sick their thanks afford,
Refresh'd are those, and these restor'd.
Such good produc'd, let casuist's skill
Prove if it can the action ill;
I can't I own, who right ne'er wrench;
But, Lord Chief Justice of the Bench,
I wish to prove my hands are clean
Before more cases intervene;
For when the fount of judgment's pure
Justice may all concern'd ensure;”
Thus his own case the judge submitted,
And was, as you'd foresee, acquitted.

“Proceed,” he cried — a trembling Ass
Stepp'd forth, and cried — “It came to pass
One day to market as I bore
Some cabbages, — it goads me sore!
But hunger tempted and I ate;
I hope” — “You hope?” infuriate
With zeal and justice, Fox replied,
“You hope? The worst of all I've tried:

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Your master's cabbages to eat!
Monstrous! your death shall soon defeat
The plague, which doubtless here was sent
For such a crime small punishment.”
The quivering Ass — “My dearest Sir,
Indeed too harshly you infer;
I only ate the leaves.” — “O, shame!
Caitiff, is not the act the same?
But eat the leaves? shall that avail?
That spoil'd the cabbages for sale.” —
“Alas!” the Ass — “near famish'd I,
No other way could want supply:
And e'en your lordship has declar'd,
And who to controvert has dar'd
Your dread decree? that 'tis no flaw,
(Necessity allow'd no law
When it impels) our wasting wants
To gratify with what chance grants.”

“Insolent” — th' upright Judge rejoin'd,
“Your sin is of the blackest kind;
These gentlemen had errors, true,
But have excuse; there's none for you.

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Ingratitude your crime encreas'd;
Your master found your daily feast,
And you repay the hand that fed
By eating up his daily bread!
Of all the crimes by nature nurs'd
Ingratitude's proclaim'd the worst!
That vice can never be defended;
You die!” — his death the judgment ended.