Various pieces in verse and prose By the late Nathaniel Cotton. Many of which were never before published. In two volumes |
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| TALES. |
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 | Various pieces in verse and prose |  |
38
TALES.
The Lamb and the Pig.
Consult the Moralist, you'll find
That education forms the mind.
But education ne'er supply'd
What ruling nature hath deny'd.
If you'll the following page pursue,
My tale shall prove this doctrine true.
That education forms the mind.
But education ne'er supply'd
What ruling nature hath deny'd.
If you'll the following page pursue,
My tale shall prove this doctrine true.
Since to the muse all brutes belong,
The Lamb shall usher in my song;
Whose snowy fleece adorn'd her skin,
Emblem of native white within.
Meekness and love possess'd her soul,
And innocence had crown'd the whole.
The Lamb shall usher in my song;
Whose snowy fleece adorn'd her skin,
Emblem of native white within.
Meekness and love possess'd her soul,
And innocence had crown'd the whole.
It chanc'd, in some unguarded hour,
(Ah! purity, precarious flower!
Let maidens of the present age
Tremble, when they peruse my page.)
It chanc'd upon a luckless day,
The little wanton, full of play,
Rejoic'd a thymy bank to gain,
But short the triumphs of her reign!
The treacherous slopes her fate foretell,
And soon the pretty trifler fell.
Beneath, a dirty ditch impress'd
Its mire upon her spotless vest.
What greater ill cou'd lamb betide,
The butcher's barbarous knife beside?
(Ah! purity, precarious flower!
Let maidens of the present age
Tremble, when they peruse my page.)
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The little wanton, full of play,
Rejoic'd a thymy bank to gain,
But short the triumphs of her reign!
The treacherous slopes her fate foretell,
And soon the pretty trifler fell.
Beneath, a dirty ditch impress'd
Its mire upon her spotless vest.
What greater ill cou'd lamb betide,
The butcher's barbarous knife beside?
The shepherd, wounded with her cries,
Strait to the bleating sufferer flies.
The lambkin in his arms he took,
And bore her to a neighbouring brook.
The silver streams her wool refin'd,
Her fleece in virgin whiteness shin'd.
Strait to the bleating sufferer flies.
The lambkin in his arms he took,
And bore her to a neighbouring brook.
The silver streams her wool refin'd,
Her fleece in virgin whiteness shin'd.
Cleans'd from pollution's every stain,
She join'd her fellows on the plain;
And saw afar the stinking shore,
But ne'er approach'd those dangers more.
The shepherd bless'd the kind event,
And view'd his flock with sweet content.
She join'd her fellows on the plain;
And saw afar the stinking shore,
But ne'er approach'd those dangers more.
The shepherd bless'd the kind event,
And view'd his flock with sweet content.
40
To market next he shap'd his way,
And bought provisions for the day.
But made, for winter's rich supply,
A purchase from a farmer's sty.
The children round their parent crowd,
And testify their mirth aloud.
They saw the stranger with surprise,
And all admir'd his little eyes.
Familiar grown he shar'd their joys,
Shar'd too the porridge with the boys.
The females o'er his dress preside,
They wash his face and scour his hide.
But daily more a Swine he grew,
For all these housewives e'er could do.
And bought provisions for the day.
But made, for winter's rich supply,
A purchase from a farmer's sty.
The children round their parent crowd,
And testify their mirth aloud.
They saw the stranger with surprise,
And all admir'd his little eyes.
Familiar grown he shar'd their joys,
Shar'd too the porridge with the boys.
The females o'er his dress preside,
They wash his face and scour his hide.
But daily more a Swine he grew,
For all these housewives e'er could do.
Hence let my youthful reader know,
That once a hog, and always so.
That once a hog, and always so.
41
Death and the Rake.
A Dutch Tale.
When pleasures court the human heart,
Oh! 'tis reluctant work to part.
Are we with griefs and pains oppress'd?
Woe says that Death's a welcome guest?
Tho' sure to cure our evils all,
He's the last doctor we wou'd call.
We think, if he arrives at morn,
'Tis hard to die, as soon as born.
Or if the conqueror invade,
When life projects the evening shade,
Do we not meditate delay,
And still request a longer stay?
We shift our homes, we change the air,
And double, like the hunted hare.
Thus be it morn, or night, or noon,
Come when he will, he comes too soon!
Oh! 'tis reluctant work to part.
Are we with griefs and pains oppress'd?
Woe says that Death's a welcome guest?
Tho' sure to cure our evils all,
He's the last doctor we wou'd call.
We think, if he arrives at morn,
'Tis hard to die, as soon as born.
Or if the conqueror invade,
When life projects the evening shade,
Do we not meditate delay,
And still request a longer stay?
We shift our homes, we change the air,
And double, like the hunted hare.
Thus be it morn, or night, or noon,
Come when he will, he comes too soon!
42
You wish my subject I wou'd wave,
The preface is so very grave.
Come then, my friend, I'll change my style,
And couch instruction with a smile.
But promise, ere I tell my tale,
The serious moral shall prevail.
The preface is so very grave.
Come then, my friend, I'll change my style,
And couch instruction with a smile.
But promise, ere I tell my tale,
The serious moral shall prevail.
Vanbruin dy'd—his son, we're told,
Succeeded to his father's gold.
Flush'd with his wealth, the thoughtless blade
Despis'd frugality, and trade;
Left Amsterdam with eager haste,
Dress, and the Hague, engross'd his taste.
Succeeded to his father's gold.
Flush'd with his wealth, the thoughtless blade
Despis'd frugality, and trade;
Left Amsterdam with eager haste,
Dress, and the Hague, engross'd his taste.
Ere long his passion chang'd its shape,
He grew enamour'd with the grape.
Frequented much a house of cheer,
Just like our fools of fortune here;
With sots and harlots fond to join,
And revel o'er his midnight wine.
He grew enamour'd with the grape.
Frequented much a house of cheer,
Just like our fools of fortune here;
With sots and harlots fond to join,
And revel o'er his midnight wine.
Once on a time the bowls had flow'd,
Quite till the morning cock had crow'd.
When Death, at every hour awake,
Enter'd the room, and claim'd the rake.
The youth's complexion spoke his fears,
Soft stole adown his cheek the tears.
At length the anguish of his breast
With fault'ring tongue he thus express'd.
Quite till the morning cock had crow'd.
When Death, at every hour awake,
Enter'd the room, and claim'd the rake.
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Soft stole adown his cheek the tears.
At length the anguish of his breast
With fault'ring tongue he thus express'd.
Thou king of terrors, hear my prayer,
And condescend for once to spare.
Let me thy clemency engage,
New to the world, and green in age.
When life no pleasures can dispense,
Or pleasures pall upon the sense;
When the eye feels departing sight,
And rolls its orb in vain for light;
When music's joys no longer cheer
The sick'ning heart, or heavy ear;
Or when my aching limbs forbear,
In sprightly balls to join the fair;
I'll not repeat my suit to Death,
But chearfully resign my breath.
And condescend for once to spare.
Let me thy clemency engage,
New to the world, and green in age.
When life no pleasures can dispense,
Or pleasures pall upon the sense;
When the eye feels departing sight,
And rolls its orb in vain for light;
When music's joys no longer cheer
The sick'ning heart, or heavy ear;
Or when my aching limbs forbear,
In sprightly balls to join the fair;
I'll not repeat my suit to Death,
But chearfully resign my breath.
Done, says the monarch—be it so;
Observe—you promise then to go!
Observe—you promise then to go!
What favour such protracted date
From the stern minister of fate!
Your wonder will be greater soon,
To hear the wretch perverts the boon.
Who, during years beyond a score,
Ne'er thought upon his promise more!
From the stern minister of fate!
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To hear the wretch perverts the boon.
Who, during years beyond a score,
Ne'er thought upon his promise more!
But were these terms by Death forgot?
Ah! no—again he seeks the sot.
The wretch was in the tavern found,
With a few gouty friends around.
Dropsy had seiz'd his legs and thighs,
Palsy his hands, and rheum his eyes.
When thus the king—Intemperate elf,
Thus, by debauch, to dupe yourself.
What! are my terrors spurn'd by thee!
Thou fool! to trifle thus with me!
You ask'd before for length of days,
Only to riot various ways.
What were thy pleas but then a sneer?
I'll now retort with jest severe.
Ah! no—again he seeks the sot.
The wretch was in the tavern found,
With a few gouty friends around.
Dropsy had seiz'd his legs and thighs,
Palsy his hands, and rheum his eyes.
When thus the king—Intemperate elf,
Thus, by debauch, to dupe yourself.
What! are my terrors spurn'd by thee!
Thou fool! to trifle thus with me!
You ask'd before for length of days,
Only to riot various ways.
What were thy pleas but then a sneer?
I'll now retort with jest severe.
Read this small print, the monarch cries—
You mock me, sir, the man replies.
I scarce could read when in my prime,
And now my sight's impair'd by time.
Sure you consider not my age—
I can't discern a single page.
And when my friends the bottle pass,
I scarce can see to fill my glass.
You mock me, sir, the man replies.
I scarce could read when in my prime,
And now my sight's impair'd by time.
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I can't discern a single page.
And when my friends the bottle pass,
I scarce can see to fill my glass.
Here, take this nut, observe it well—
'Tis my command you crack the shell.
'Tis my command you crack the shell.
How can such orders be obey'd?
My grinders, sir, are quite decay'd.
My teeth can scarce divide my bread,
And not a sound one in my head!
My grinders, sir, are quite decay'd.
My teeth can scarce divide my bread,
And not a sound one in my head!
But Death, who more sarcastic grew,
Disclos'd a violin to view;
Then loud he call'd, Old Boy, advance,
Stretch out your legs, and lead the dance.
Disclos'd a violin to view;
Then loud he call'd, Old Boy, advance,
Stretch out your legs, and lead the dance.
The man rejoin'd—When age surrounds,
How can the ear distinguish sounds?
Are not my limbs unwieldy grown?
Are not my feet as cold as stone?
Dear sir, take pity on my state—
My legs can scarce support my weight!
How can the ear distinguish sounds?
Are not my limbs unwieldy grown?
Are not my feet as cold as stone?
Dear sir, take pity on my state—
My legs can scarce support my weight!
Death drops the quaint, insulting joke,
And meditates the fatal stroke.
Assuming all his terrors now,
He speaks with anger on his brow.
And meditates the fatal stroke.
46
He speaks with anger on his brow.
Is thus my lenity abus'd,
And dare you hope to stand excus'd?
You've spent your time, that pearl of price!
To the detested ends of vice.
Purchas'd your short-liv'd pleasures dear,
And seal'd your own destruction here.
Inflam'd your reckoning too above,
By midnight bowls, and lawless love.
Warning, you know, I gave betimes—
Now go, and answer for your crimes.
And dare you hope to stand excus'd?
You've spent your time, that pearl of price!
To the detested ends of vice.
Purchas'd your short-liv'd pleasures dear,
And seal'd your own destruction here.
Inflam'd your reckoning too above,
By midnight bowls, and lawless love.
Warning, you know, I gave betimes—
Now go, and answer for your crimes.
Oh! my good lord, repress the blow—
I am not yet prepar'd to go.
And let it, sir, be further told,
That not a neighbour thinks me old.
My hairs are now but turning grey,
I am not sixty, sir, till May.
Grant me the common date of men,
I ask but threescore years and ten.
I am not yet prepar'd to go.
And let it, sir, be further told,
That not a neighbour thinks me old.
My hairs are now but turning grey,
I am not sixty, sir, till May.
Grant me the common date of men,
I ask but threescore years and ten.
Dar'st thou, prevaricating knave,
Insult the monarch of the grave?
I claim thy solemn contract past—
Wherefore this moment is thy last.
Insult the monarch of the grave?
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Wherefore this moment is thy last.
Thus having said, he speeds his dart,
And cleaves the hoary dotard's heart.
And cleaves the hoary dotard's heart.
The second Ode of the second Book of Horace.
Inscribed to T. V. Esq.
Dear youth, to hoarded wealth a foe,
Riches with faded lustre glow;
Yes, dim the treasures of the mine,
Unless with temperate use they shine.
This stamps a value on the gold,
So Proculeius thought of old.
Riches with faded lustre glow;
Yes, dim the treasures of the mine,
Unless with temperate use they shine.
This stamps a value on the gold,
So Proculeius thought of old.
Soon as this generous Roman saw
His father's sons proscrib'd by law,
The knight discharg'd a parent's part,
They shar'd his fortune and his heart.
Hence stands consign'd a brother's name
To immortality and fame.
His father's sons proscrib'd by law,
The knight discharg'd a parent's part,
They shar'd his fortune and his heart.
Hence stands consign'd a brother's name
To immortality and fame.
48
Wou'd you true empire ascertain?
Curb all immoderate lust of gain.
This is the best ambition known,
A greater conquest than a throne.
For know, should Avarice controul,
Farewell the triumphs of the soul.
Curb all immoderate lust of gain.
This is the best ambition known,
A greater conquest than a throne.
For know, should Avarice controul,
Farewell the triumphs of the soul.
This is a dropsy of the mind,
Resembling the corporeal kind;
For who with this disease are curst,
The more they drink, the more they thirst.
Indulgence feeds their bloated veins,
And pale-ey'd, sighing languor reigns.
Resembling the corporeal kind;
For who with this disease are curst,
The more they drink, the more they thirst.
Indulgence feeds their bloated veins,
And pale-ey'd, sighing languor reigns.
Virtue, who differs from the crowd,
Rejects the covetous and proud;
Disdains the wild ambitious breast,
And scorns to call a monarch blest;
Labours to rescue truth and sense
From specious sounds, and vain pretence.
Rejects the covetous and proud;
Disdains the wild ambitious breast,
And scorns to call a monarch blest;
Labours to rescue truth and sense
From specious sounds, and vain pretence.
49
Virtue to that distinguish'd few,
Gives royalty, and conquest too;
That wise minority, who own,
And pay their tribute to her throne;
Who view with undesiring eyes,
And spurn that wealth which misers prize.
Gives royalty, and conquest too;
That wise minority, who own,
And pay their tribute to her throne;
Who view with undesiring eyes,
And spurn that wealth which misers prize.
The Tenth Ode of the second Book.
Wou'd you, my friend, true bliss obtain?
Nor press the coast, nor tempt the main.
In open seas loud tempests roar,
And treacherous rocks begirt the shore.
Nor press the coast, nor tempt the main.
In open seas loud tempests roar,
And treacherous rocks begirt the shore.
Hatred to all extremes is seen,
In those who love the golden mean.
They nor in palaces rejoice,
Nor is the sordid cot their choice.
In those who love the golden mean.
They nor in palaces rejoice,
Nor is the sordid cot their choice.
50
The middle state of life is best,
Exalted stations find no rest;
Storms shake th'aspiring pine, and tower,
And mountains feel the thunder's power.
Exalted stations find no rest;
Storms shake th'aspiring pine, and tower,
And mountains feel the thunder's power.
The mind prepar'd for each event,
In every state maintains content.
She hopes the best, when storms prevail,
Nor trusts too far the prosperous gale.
In every state maintains content.
She hopes the best, when storms prevail,
Nor trusts too far the prosperous gale.
Shou'd time returning winters bring,
Returning winter yields to spring.
Shou'd darkness shroud the present skies,
Hereafter brighter suns shall rise.
Returning winter yields to spring.
Shou'd darkness shroud the present skies,
Hereafter brighter suns shall rise.
When Pæan shoots his fiery darts,
Disease and death transfix our hearts;
But oft the God withholds his bow,
In pity to the race below.
Disease and death transfix our hearts;
But oft the God withholds his bow,
In pity to the race below.
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When clouds the angry heavens deform,
Be strong, and brave the swelling storm;
Amidst prosperity's full gales
Be humble, and contract your sails.
Be strong, and brave the swelling storm;
Amidst prosperity's full gales
Be humble, and contract your sails.
| Various pieces in verse and prose | |