The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke

... In Four Volumes Octavo. Revised and corrected by the Original Manuscript With a Portrait of the Author, and His Life By Miss Brooke. The Third Edition

Brooke, Henry (1703?-1783)

VOL. I.

JACK THE GIANT QUELLER, AN OPERA.

II.

III.

II.

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF ESSEX,

PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND,

ANOTHER PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND.

EPILOGUE TO THE PLAY OF WHAT WE MUST ALL COME TO.

TO THE MEMORY OF Lieutenant Colonel HENRY CLEMENTS.

A CHARACTER.

TO Mr. B---

THE PATRIOTISM OF IRELAND,

II.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

II.

III.

IV.

THE SPARROW and the DOVE.

THE FEMALE SEDUCERS.

LOVE AND VANITY.

CONRADE:

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JACK THE GIANT QUELLER, AN OPERA.

[Verses extracted from the opera]

[_]

Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:

For Plut. read Plutus or Wealth.
For 1st Beg. read 1st. Beggar.
For Gallig. read Galligantus or Power.
For 1st. Shep. read 1st Shepherd.

AIR I.

[_]

Tune, “At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure.”

I

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little,
In the hands of the Strong,
All the ties, that belong
To Justice and Honour, are brittle.

II

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little,
Though Churchmen may preach,
And Philosophers teach,
The Great will not list to a tittle.

III

The Laws they were made for the Little,
The Laws they were made for the Little;
It is not by Right,
But by wrong-doing Might,
That Giants still scape a Committal.

AIR II.

Plut.
This scepter'd hand all nations own,
All religions hold divine—
I the king of every throne;
I the god of every shrine!

II

Gold is every woman's lust;
Gold is every man's desire;
Gold the covert patriot's gust;
Kneel my sons, and own your sire!

AIR III.

[_]

Tune, “Moll Roe.”

Plut.
Would you silence a Patriot committee,
Touch their lips with this magical Wand;
Through country, and senate, and city,
'Tis the lock and the key of the land.

II

Take a piece of this same from your coffer,
Display to the Voter your pelf;
And the wretch, having nothing to offer,
Will frugally sell you—Himself.

III

'Tis a shot for the fowl of all feather,
A bait for the gust of all fish;
To this every gudgeon will gather,
And plump, ready drest, in your dish.

IV

If the booby, your Pupil, so dull is,
He scarce can remember his name;
Yet his mouth it shall open, like Tully's,
When fed with a spoon of this same.

V

To a rascal, a bear, and a blockhead,
Unconscious of mood, or of tense,
This plastic receipt, in his pocket,
Gives grace, figure, virtue, and sense.

VI

Old Saints will for this sell their manuals;
O'er this, at your sovereign nod,
Old Judges will skip like young spaniels,
And Cardinals kiss you this rod.

VII

To study aught else is but nonsense;
From hence all Philosophy springs—
'Tis the Crown, Beauty, Cause, and Good Conscience,
Of Priests, Ladies, Lawyers, and Kings.

AIR IV.

[_]

Tune, “Peggy Benson.”

I

In the Church, where your dignifi'd doctors you find,
Such holy men refrain, son;
For, uplifted by us, and our offices kind,
Their sanctify'd pride they sustain, son.

II

Let governors thrive, and each Prince, on his throne,
In peace and plenty reign, son;
Till you find that by talents, and virtue, alone,
One man shall to honour attain, son.

III

Let Party in turbulent senates debate,
Nor matters it who shall gain, son;
Till you find that one act for the good of the state,
Shall have enter'd in either's brain, son.

IV

Let the law be your care, nor one tittle retrench,
But support each furr'd robe in its station;
For they, as our substitutes, sit on the bench,
To decide the affairs of the nation.

V

In Cities, tho' Czars of a pitiful sphere,
Would you know who would be our relation?
'Tis the Alderman's Worship, and sudden Lord Mayor,
Who struts through his yearly creation.

VII

Each fox-hunting justice and landlorded youth,
Are prone to your point, when they may, son;

For these, too, are little Grand Signiors, forsooth,
And Giants, each man in his way, son.

AIR V.

[_]

Tune, “If all the fair maids.”

I

Ambition lik Jack-o'-the-Lanthorn bewitches;
Ambition like Jack-o'-the Lanthorn bewitches;
And leads; you benighted through dirt and through ditches.
Dol de dol, &c.

II

Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;
Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;
And virtue, tho' humble, looks down upon riches.
Dol de dol, &c,

III

Your great men, and statesmen, the higher their pitch is,
Your great men, and statesmen, the higher their pitch is,
By climbing the broader, but shew us their breeches.
Dol de dol, &c.

AIR VI.

[_]

Tune, “Dole and woe fa our Cat.

I

How often our Mother has told,
And sure she is wonderous wise!
In cities, that all you behold,
Is a fair, but a faithless disguise:
That the modes of a court education
Are train-pits, and traitors to youth;
And the only fine language in fashion,
A tongue that is foreign to truth.

II

Where Honor is barely an oath;
Where knaves are with noblemen class'd;
Where nature's a stranger to both;
And love an old tale of times past

Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,
Where smiles are the envoys of art;
Where joy lightly swims on the senses,
But never can enter the heart.

III

Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners;
Where Virtue's divorc'd from success;
Where cringing goes current for manners,
And worth is no deeper than dress.
Where Favour creeps lamely, on crutches;
Where Friendship is nothing but face;
And the title of Duke, or of Duchess,
Is all that entitles to Grace.

AIR VII.

[_]

Tune, “Lochaber.”

Jack.
Farewel to my Gracey, my Gracey so sweet,
How painful to part!—but again we shall meet.
Thy Jack, he will languish, and long for the day,
That shall kiss the dear tears of his sister away.
Tho' Honour, in groves of tall laurel, should grow;
And fortune, in tides, should eternally flow;
Nor Honour, nor Fortune thy Jack shall detain,
But he'll come to his Gracey, his Sister again.

II

Again, at our door, in the morning of spring,
To see the sun rise, and hear Gold-finches sing;
To rouse our companions, and maids of the May,
In copses to gambol, in meadows to play.
Or, at Questions and Forfeits, all rang'd on the grass:
Or to gather fresh chaplets, each Lad for his Lass;
To sing, and to dance, and to sport on the plain,
Thy Jack shall return to his Gracey again.

III

Or alone, in his Gracey's sweet company blest,
To feed the young Robins that chirp on the nest;
To help at her med'cines, and herbs for the poor,
And welcome the stranger that stops at the door.
At night, o'er our fire, and a cup of clear ale,
To hear the town-news, and the Traveller's tale;
To smile away life, till our heads they grow hoar,
And part from my sheep, and my Gracey no more.

AIR VIII.

[_]

Tune, “Dremondoo.”

Grace.
O now he has left me, what care shall employ,
What object afford me the shadow of joy?
To a heart so o'erladen, all Sorrows are meet;
Misfortune is welcome, and mourning is sweet!

II

Away, ye companions of daily delight,
And pastimes that gently could steal on the night
Away, ye fond sports of the wake, and the fair!
Your pleasures are vanish'd—no brother is there!

III

Of the Ball, and the Hurling, the Dance, and the Race,
His skill was the victor, his person the grace:

The Maidens throng'd round him, delighted to see,
And wish'd they had all been his sisters, like me.

IV

Thus, every dear scene of my former delight,
To my mind will recal him, but not to my sight;
The trees will all droop, and the meadows look lone;
And all say—poor maid! thy Companion is gone!

AIR IX.

[_]

Tune, “Grana Weil.”

I

Though passions contend, and afflictions storm,
And shake the frail state of the human form;
If virtue the base of our pile sustain,
Afflictions shall rage and assault in vain.

II

The path for the steps of all mortals made,
Is simply to follow, where Truth shall lead:
Nor thou from its rectitude turn aside;
The rest, let hereafter, and heaven provide.

AIR X.

[_]

Tune, “I have six pence under my thumb.”

I

How sweet the gossiping birds that sing!
How sweet the treasure the zephyrs bring,
Light wafted on each odoriferous wing
That winnows the breast of flowery spring!

II

How sweet the showers with balm replete!
The fawns that frolic, and lambs that bleat!
But O! above all, though all should meet,
Our Justice, our Queen of sweets is sweet!

AIR XI.

[_]

Tune, “To you fair Ladies now on land.”

Justice.
The world, a faithless ocean, tost
By passion's stormy wind,
Is spread with spoils of thousands lost,
The wreck of human kind;
Where all the freight their vessels bear,
Is but a wilful weight of care.

Dol lol, &c.

II

For what can Reason's feeble hand,
Before the helm perform,
Where he can spy nor port, nor land,
To scape from stress, or storm—
Where Hope, amid the raging main,
Her anchor casts,—but casts in vain?

Dol lol, &c.

III

O turn, misguided wights!—return
To us, who smile on shore!
To us, who, yet, your errors mourn,
Your safety who implore!
Your forfeit peace with us renew,
Who shed no tears—except for you.

Dol lol, &c.

AIR XII.

[_]

Tune, “Twang-dillo dee.”

Justice.
But we to Nature who adhere, nor farther bliss require,
To lop the root of all our care, we lop each vain desire.

II

We ask no Cynic law, nor saw, nor scrolls of bearded men;
For Nature's the most learned book that Innocence can ken.

III

To baffle want, and sweeten toil, from debt and danger free;
We learn instruction from the Ant, and the industrious Bee.

IV

From Dogs we learn unfailing faith, affection from the Dove;
And from the Hen, who guards her Chick, a Parent's circling love.

V

And last, we, to all bounteous Heaven, our daily tribute yield;
Taught by the fragrant incense breath'd from every grateful field.

AIR XIII.

[_]

Tune, “Ye Commons and Peers.”

Jultice.
The time to beguile,
Now listen a while.
And I'll shew you an excellent plot;
How Husband and Wife,
Thro' the crosses of life,
May be held by the true-lover's knot.

II

As mortals are frail,
Let indulgence prevail,
And all mutual infirmities blot;
Let the Husband but own
His Wife errs not alone,
And I'll vouch for the true-lover's knot.

III

My Dolly so bright,
Should your Hob, over night,
Be surprized by his pipe, or his pot;
Let him sleep his dose out,
Nor, by scolding or pout,
Strive to loosen the true-lover's knot.

IV

When your Wives they grow grey,
And their graces decay,
Of all mortal beauty the lot;

Remember their youth,
And, by friendship, and truth,
Make eternal the true-lover's knot.

AIR XV.

[_]

Tune, “A begging we will go.”

1st Beg.
However some in Coaches, on Barrows some may beg;

'Tis want that makes the Mendicant, and not the wooden leg.
When a begging they do go, &c.

II

'Tis thus, by greater poverty, that Nobles grow renown'd;
For where we want a penny, friend, State Beggars want a pound.
And a begging they do go, &c.

III

Your Courtier begs for Honour—and that's a want indeed!
As many should for Honesty, but will not own their need,
When a begging they should go, &c.

IV

Your Vizier begs for subsidies, your Party-man for place;
Your Church-man, for a benefice;—but not a man for Grace,
When a begging they do go, &c.

V

Thus all, from Rome to London, are of the begging train;
But we, who beg for Charity—must look to beg in vain,
When a begging we do go, &c.

AIR XV.

[_]

Tune, “Fie, let us awa to the Wedding.”

Jack.
Yet many, when Beggars are pressing,
Of bounty are nothing loth;
The Bishop will give you—his blessing;
The Officer give you—his oath.
Of his promise, to be a free donor,
The Courtier is little nice;
And Great-ones will give you—their Honour!
For these are of little price.

AIR XVI.

[_]

Tune, “A Cobler there was.”

Jack.

I

You yet may behold the surprize of the town,
To see truth elated, dishonour pull'd down;

All tricks, low and little, despis'd by the Great,
And Honesty fix'd for a maxim of State!
Derry down, &c.

II

To see our lac'd Lordlings deserving of trust;
Our Clergymen pious, our Justices just;
Our Court Ladies blush; and our thing of a Beau,
A something, beside a mere nothing but shew.
Derry down, &c.

III

To see worth and talents to office preferr'd;
The Virtuous rewarded; the Vicious deterr'd;
And the streams of polution, where people resort,
New fed from the clarify'd springs of our Court.
Derry down, &c.

IV

To see Freedom loyal; Elections unbrib'd;
All Faction exil'd, and Corruption proscrib'd:
Pure Nature exalted o'er masking and art;
And Dominion possess'd of it's seat in the heart.
Derry down, &c.

V

To see Mirth, with Innocence, walking the land;
And Probity taking Free-trade by the hand;
And the Courts of our Law from iniquity clear,
O then, what a rare revolution were here!
Derry down, &c.

Chorus.
And the Courts, &c.

AIR XVII.

[_]

Tune “Chevy Chace

But since by mortals 'tis confest,
The shafts of Fate must fall;
I'll take firm Patience to my breast,
And smile, secure of all.

AIR XVIII.

[_]

Tune, “Delia, by Arne.”

Jack.
O form'd of harmony and light!
Too bright for sense to bear!

Art thou to feeling as to sight?
Essential as thou'rt fair?

II

If some illusion from the skies,
In pity yet delay;
Nor melt, sweet object, from my eyes;
In fleeting air away!

AIR XIX.

[_]

Tune, “Two Gossips they luckily met.”

I

The Indies thy Toilet shall grace;
For thee shall earth, ocean, and air,
From the gin, and the net, and the chace,
Each costly collation prepare.

II

All seasons their sweets shall dispense,
And a round of long happiness roll;
And bliss, through the gates of each sense,
Shall enter and mix with thy soul.

III

Fair Phœbe shall light up her horn,
To watch the repose of thy charms;
And each blushing and rapturous morn
Shall find thee reclin'd in my arms.

AIR XX.

[_]

Tune, “Who'll see my Gallantee Shew.”

Jack.
I'll first present you a prime minister,
See from thought or action sinister!
Public good his square and measure;
Himself his Country's trust and treasure.
And is not this a shew?

II

Here's Humility in high station!
Dignity stript of ostentation!

Friendship, here, outgoes profession;
Here is power, without oppression!
Oh the finest shew!

III

Who'll see honesty in a Miser?
Fops, from France, return the wiser?
Wealthy Poets, and poor Receivers?
Lawyers in future rewards believers?
Oh the curious shew!

IV

Here's dependance, without servility;
Peers, to Virtue who owe Nobility;
Next, where Piety weds with Prelacy:
But you scarce will credit, till you see,
Such a wond'rous shew!

AIR XXI.

[_]

Tune, “Poddreen Mare.”

Jack.
Come all you gay Gallants, for pleasure who proul!
Come all you young Racers, who strain for the goal!
Come all you stout Wrestlers, who strive on the plain!
Come all you fond Merchants, who trade on the main!
Come all, who expend your short candle, in quest
Of phantoms, still follow'd, but still unpossest!
In vain you search, wander, strain, struggle, and steer!
The Prize you all wrestled, and run for, lay here.

AIR XXII.

[_]

Tune, “Suba roo roo.”

Jack.
Who will buy? who will buy?
Observe, and you'll own, Sir,
In each radiant stone, Sir,
Is pictur'd the Virtue,
And Grace they refer to;
Will you buy Sir?—

AIR XXIII.

[_]

Tune, “Bohil beg buee.”

Jack.
Here Probity stands confest;
His truth on his visage exprest:
For his face is of kin to the beauty within,
That keeps festival still in his breast.

AIR XXIV.

[_]

Tune, “My Father and Mother sent me far.”

Jack
For lo! her wealth all spent on want,
Where Charity's reclin'd!
The moving tale of wretchedness
Still rolling in her mind.
Her sighs and tears are still a fund
Of bounty to distress;
And she delights to share the woe
She can no more redress.

AIR XXV.

[_]

Tune, “My Dog and my Gun.”

Jack.
On what a firm rock, here, does Fortitude fix!
Around him, in war, all the elements mix!
The hurricane rages! the tempest it boils!
Loud thunders are launch'd at his head—and he smiles!

Lady.
My honest Gentleman, so pert, and queer,
What must I give you for this trifle here?

Jack.
Your insolence of riches, that mislead
Your steps from real wealth, and make you poor, indeed.

AIR XXVI.

[_]

Tune, “Æneas wand'ring Prince of Troy.”

Jack.
Humility, her crown aside,
Here stoops to wash the feet of Pride.
Averse from all the world calls great,
She fain would fall, and sink from state!
But sink or fall, howe'er she will,
She finds the world beneath her still.

Lady.
Your pleasure for this Gem so bright and strange?
I barter all my fortune in exchange!

Jack.
Demand some other time.—You offer well.—
The price, in public, I'm right loth to tell.

AIR XXVII.

[_]

Tune, “Past one o'Clock.”

How mild, in this ruby, pale Chastity flushes;
And tinctures with crimson her form of light!
Unconscious of guilt;—at her beauty she blushes,
And wraps each proportion, and charm from sight.
All hush'd as rock'd infants, all sweet as the folding rose,
Her lips, with reluctance, the balm of her breath disclose!
Her eyes look abash'd at their brightness, yet still she shews
Brighter by veiling whate'er is bright!

AIR XXVIII.

[_]

Tune, “The bonny Christ Church Bells”

Jack.
Would you wear this Pearl so rare?
Then, Fair-one, list to me,
First learn the skill your tongue to still;
And leave the name and honest fame of others free.
Your tittle-tattle, prate and prattle,—rake and rattle, all
Due victims to this Pearl must fall.
Your joys in toys, of folly, fops, and noise,

That, noon and night, the toy-shop of your heart employs;
The side long glance, and kindling dance,
Minc'd mein, and conscious eye;
With foibles which, you know, in shame I spare to shew;
A price, I fear, too high.

AIR XXIX.

[_]

Tune, Bumpers Squire Jones.”

Jack.
Since, Sir, you require
Me with freedom to tell you the price I desire;
If duly obey'd,
I must claim all your shifts,
Mean resources, sly drifts,
And whole system of trade.
Each method of weaving
Court nets for enslaving;

Your chaffer for conscience, by barter and lure:
State quacks, and state nurses;
Your purging of purses;
And skinning of wounds, which you wish not to cure.

II

Each subtle essay
Of spreading corruption, in order for sway;
All projects for rule,
By the bait, and the bribe,
And political tribe,
Of trick, traffic, and tool.
Your Court-broom, that gathers
Motes, chaff, straw, and feathers,
And sweeps up all trash from the surface of life.
With your largess of graces,
Posts, pensions, and places,
Where talents and office are ever at strife.

III

With these, I must claim
Your entry of red-coated gentry, who dream
That Heroes are made,
And enabl'd to kill,
By the courage and skill
Of a dreadful cockade!
A race, who are prouder
To spend their sweet powder
At balls, than on bullets,—a terrible train

Of crimp petit-maitres,
Nice seamsters and plaiters,
Beau'd out, for the dance of a dainty campaign!

AIR XXX.

[_]

Tune, “Ye fairy Elves that be.”

Gallig.
Come follow, follow me,
You jolly boys all, who be
Divested of constraint,
From mortify'd Saw, or Saint!
To pleasure and boundless licence free.
Come follow, follow, follow me!
Come all to measureless licence free,
And follow, follow, follow me!

II

Let lean-ey'd Honesty bear
His merited weight of care;

And phlegm and conscience dwell
In cynical tub, or cell;
But all ye lovers of game, and glee,
And feast and frolic, come follow me!
To nature's measureless license free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!

III

The pedanted Priest, who fain
Wou'd ride, but wants a rein;
To moral us into controul,
Wou'd sour the jovial soul!
The Priest is cunning, and so are we;
Then Priest and People, come follow me!
From scruple and qualm, and conscience free,
Come follow, follow, me!

XXXI.

[_]

Tune, “Tiptelera.”

1st Shep.
These gauntlets, we understand,
From annals, time out of mind,
Have giv'n due weight to each hand
Of the bruisers of mankind.
Still apt to his occupation
Whom no restriction awes;
Whose courage would cuff a nation,
And quell both land and laws.

AIR XXXII.

[_]

Tune, “Ye Commons and Peers.”

1st Shep.
Behold, from old times,
Through all customs, and climes,
The meed of ambition, and pride!
'Tis a gift, my good sirs,
For him who, with spurs,
On the back of his country would ride.
Dol de rol, &c.

AIR XXXIII.

[_]

Tune, “Old Roger.”

1st Shep.
Sir, here is the zone,
Dol lol de rol, &c.

By whose virtue alone
Dol lol, &c.

Deservers are known,
Dol lol, &c.

To look down on a throne,
Dol lol, &c.

AIR XXXIV.

[_]

Tune, “Ye fairy Elves that be.”

Duet between Justice and Jack.

I

Arise, arise! arise!
Each shape, and sort, and size
Of Honesty, where ye lye,
Unheeded, on dank or dry;
From cottages, shades, and sheds, to court,
My brothers of worth, and want, resort!

Arise to labour, arise to play,
For Virtue dawns a new born day!

Chorus.
Arise to labour, &c.

II

To court, to court repair;
Tho' destitute, poor, and bare;
And yet unskill'd in aught
That Euclid or Machiavel taught.
By naked probity, you acquire
A garb beyond the silk of Tyre;
And more than talents, and more than art,
Is furnish'd in an upright heart!

Chorus.
And more than, &c.

III

Let jolity e'en devour
His interval of an hour;
Yet, pity his transient roar,
For list—and he laughs no more!
The purest pleasures that guilt can bring,
Are like the tickling of a sting;
The tickling leaves no sweet behind;
The sting remains, and stabs the mind!

Chorus.
The tickling leaves, &c.

IV

But Virtue, in the breast,
Composes her halcyon nest;
And sooths and smooths each storm,
That wou'd the fair seat deform;

Herself most frolic, and sweetly free
To cordial jolity, cordial glee!
The fountain of all that's blest and bright;
Of orient pleasure, of orient light!

Chorus.
The fountain, &c.

V

And, from this mental dawn,
O'er village, and lake, and lawn;
New radiance shall expand,
To brighten each dusky land;
While Truth, from this approving stage,
Shall beam through every act, and age!

CHORUS.
While Truth from this approving stage,
Shall beam through ev'ry act, and age.

FINIS.