 | The poetical works of John Trumbull . |  |
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CHARACTERS.
“O wealth, Wealth, Wealth! our being's end and aim!
Gold, houses, chattels, lands! whate'er thy name;
Thou, for whose sake advent'rous arts we try,
Defraud, extort, rob, plunder, toil and die;
Tempt instant fate in war's tremendous form,
Ride the salt wave and brave the bellowing storm:
Cheerful I follow where thy steps incline,
Explore the waste, or dive the dang'rous mine,
Lose my scorn'd life, or gain an envied store,
And either cease to be, or to be poor.”
Gold, houses, chattels, lands! whate'er thy name;
Thou, for whose sake advent'rous arts we try,
Defraud, extort, rob, plunder, toil and die;
Tempt instant fate in war's tremendous form,
Ride the salt wave and brave the bellowing storm:
Cheerful I follow where thy steps incline,
Explore the waste, or dive the dang'rous mine,
Lose my scorn'd life, or gain an envied store,
And either cease to be, or to be poor.”
So reason'd Harpax. Was this reasoning well?
Can wealth give merit? Curio, thou canst tell.
Can wealth give merit? Curio, thou canst tell.
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Why rears thy tower its trophied arch so high,
And lifts its Attic pillars to the sky,
Where gilded spires the painted roofs emblaze,
And streams of light revert the solar rays?
Why stretch thy lawns their flowery banks around,
Thy groves aspire with vernal honors crown'd,
Where the pure Naiads, sporting as they lave,
In smooth meanders lead the lucent wave?
Why swells thy breast with conscious joy supplied,
And pleased surveys the grand retreats of pride?
These point the glory round thy head that plays,
Forms all thy merit and secures thy praise.
What though no strains of raptured genius hung
In tuneful periods on thy flowing tongue,
Blest with no charms of figure or of face,
Commanding air, or soul-attracting grace;
Though cautious Nature, (niggard to dispense)
Dealt with spare hand the common boon of sense;
Each low defect thy splendid train conceal,
Thy pride can varnish and thine art can heal;
The form ungraceful, and the leaden eye,
Gay silks adorn and robes of pomp supply.
These are thy charms—and while these charms remain,
Penurious Nature spared her gifts in vain.
In every contest, bless'd with every prize,
Fear'd by the brave, and flatter'd by the wise,
These are the charms, whose uncontroul'd command
Gain'd the fair heart and won the virgin hand;
These charms obtain'd, in one successful hour,
Th' aspiring title and the robes of power,
Swell'd the full vote and o'er the throng prevail'd,
When sense and art and worth and wisdom fail'd.
And lifts its Attic pillars to the sky,
Where gilded spires the painted roofs emblaze,
And streams of light revert the solar rays?
Why stretch thy lawns their flowery banks around,
Thy groves aspire with vernal honors crown'd,
Where the pure Naiads, sporting as they lave,
In smooth meanders lead the lucent wave?
Why swells thy breast with conscious joy supplied,
And pleased surveys the grand retreats of pride?
These point the glory round thy head that plays,
Forms all thy merit and secures thy praise.
What though no strains of raptured genius hung
In tuneful periods on thy flowing tongue,
Blest with no charms of figure or of face,
Commanding air, or soul-attracting grace;
Though cautious Nature, (niggard to dispense)
Dealt with spare hand the common boon of sense;
Each low defect thy splendid train conceal,
Thy pride can varnish and thine art can heal;
The form ungraceful, and the leaden eye,
Gay silks adorn and robes of pomp supply.
These are thy charms—and while these charms remain,
Penurious Nature spared her gifts in vain.
In every contest, bless'd with every prize,
Fear'd by the brave, and flatter'd by the wise,
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Gain'd the fair heart and won the virgin hand;
These charms obtain'd, in one successful hour,
Th' aspiring title and the robes of power,
Swell'd the full vote and o'er the throng prevail'd,
When sense and art and worth and wisdom fail'd.
Yet, Crito, you can fortune's sports deride,
And smile at fools, array'd in courtly pride,
Despise a D*** by wealth and power elate,
L***'s glitt'ring coach and K***'s chair of state;
To every ray of tinsel glory blind,
You mark for worth the merit of the mind.
And smile at fools, array'd in courtly pride,
Despise a D*** by wealth and power elate,
L***'s glitt'ring coach and K***'s chair of state;
To every ray of tinsel glory blind,
You mark for worth the merit of the mind.
Search then what worth in tow'ring genius lies,
What merits claim the witty and the wise.
In opening youth how bright Lothario shone;
Wit, learning, wisdom, every worth in one!
His blooming laurels graced the Muse's seat,
Where Science nursed him in her calm retreat;
Then starting brilliant on the patriot stage,
He beam'd, the day-star of the rising age.
Th' applauding croud in pleased attention hung,
While playful humour wanton'd on his tongue,
Or nobly rising in sublimer thought,
The weak were raptured and the wise were taught.
Yet led through life, he joins the lawless train,
Though reason checks, though Virtue calls in vain;
Whim, fancy, pleasure, pride, obstruct her sway,
And bear him devious, from her paths astray;
He hears her voice, but borne by passion strong,
Approves the right, yet wanders in the wrong;
Pursues the blaze of prostituted fame,
While vanity precludes the sense of shame;
In daring vice, in impious faction sways,
The slave of lust, the pamper'd dupe of praise;
By learning, taught to doubt and disbelieve,
By reasoning, others and himself deceive;
Tastes the foul streams, where sensual pleasures flow,
Till age untimely stains his locks with snow;
Too late repentant, sinks at last to rest,
Of arts the scandal, and of fools the jest.
What merits claim the witty and the wise.
In opening youth how bright Lothario shone;
Wit, learning, wisdom, every worth in one!
His blooming laurels graced the Muse's seat,
Where Science nursed him in her calm retreat;
Then starting brilliant on the patriot stage,
He beam'd, the day-star of the rising age.
Th' applauding croud in pleased attention hung,
While playful humour wanton'd on his tongue,
Or nobly rising in sublimer thought,
The weak were raptured and the wise were taught.
Yet led through life, he joins the lawless train,
Though reason checks, though Virtue calls in vain;
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And bear him devious, from her paths astray;
He hears her voice, but borne by passion strong,
Approves the right, yet wanders in the wrong;
Pursues the blaze of prostituted fame,
While vanity precludes the sense of shame;
In daring vice, in impious faction sways,
The slave of lust, the pamper'd dupe of praise;
By learning, taught to doubt and disbelieve,
By reasoning, others and himself deceive;
Tastes the foul streams, where sensual pleasures flow,
Till age untimely stains his locks with snow;
Too late repentant, sinks at last to rest,
Of arts the scandal, and of fools the jest.
This poem is a fragment of a Moral Essay in the manner of Pope. Sundry other characters were inserted, chiefly of persons then in public life, and drawn with such traits and allusions, as would have at once directed the application. Some of them, as Pope expresses it,
“Have walk'd the world in credit to the grave,” and all are now off the stage. No part of the Essay was ever before published.
| The poetical works of John Trumbull . | |