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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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
The hero had not far to run, And soon he stood beside the gun,
Where Syntax, with a curious eye, Guided by sound Philosophy,
Explor'd in thought each neighb'ring vale,
And watch'd the current of the gale:
Measur'd the objects all around,
As they might check or quicken sound;
And by some principle to find This joint effect of noise and wind.
But soon a more poetic thought On his inspired fancy wrought.
—Again the cannon gave its roar To every near and distant shore;
When its rude clamour call'd around The strange, reverberating sound:
Now sinking low, now rising high In wonderful variety,
Of classic images a score Did on the Doctor's mem'ry pour.
“Echo,” he said, “I know thee well;
Thou dost in rocks and caverns dwell,
Or where the crag beneath the hill, Renews its image in the rill!
There I have heard thee, there my song
Thy chastened notes did oft prolong;
So mild, so gentle, soft and clear,
Thy voice has charm'd my list'ning ear!
A modest nymph, I hail thy power Within my garden's shady bower,
But here, by some reverse, grown bold, Echo, thou art an arrant scold;
And mak'st the hills and valleys sing With thy so wond'rous vapouring!
—What say you Patrick, have you any
Of these same echoes at Kilkenny?”
Where Syntax, with a curious eye, Guided by sound Philosophy,
Explor'd in thought each neighb'ring vale,
And watch'd the current of the gale:
Measur'd the objects all around,
As they might check or quicken sound;
And by some principle to find This joint effect of noise and wind.
But soon a more poetic thought On his inspired fancy wrought.
—Again the cannon gave its roar To every near and distant shore;
When its rude clamour call'd around The strange, reverberating sound:
Now sinking low, now rising high In wonderful variety,
Of classic images a score Did on the Doctor's mem'ry pour.
“Echo,” he said, “I know thee well;
Thou dost in rocks and caverns dwell,
Or where the crag beneath the hill, Renews its image in the rill!
There I have heard thee, there my song
Thy chastened notes did oft prolong;
So mild, so gentle, soft and clear,
Thy voice has charm'd my list'ning ear!
A modest nymph, I hail thy power Within my garden's shady bower,
But here, by some reverse, grown bold, Echo, thou art an arrant scold;
And mak'st the hills and valleys sing With thy so wond'rous vapouring!
—What say you Patrick, have you any
Of these same echoes at Kilkenny?”
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |