 | The Peacock at Home; and Other Poems |  |
102
AN ENIGMA.
France gave me birth and made my merits known,
England receiv'd and rear'd me as her own;
By her promoted to a lofty station,
I labour in the service of the nation;
And though my foreign lineage may provoke
Honest John Bull, who hates Outlandish folk,
He need not fear me—for I'm heart of oak.
Fix'd to a spot, yet constantly in motion,
I bring intelligence from land and ocean,
And without quitting my appointed place,
Scarce thought itself is quicker in the race;
The gossip Fame may throw her trumpet by,
She cannot spread reports so quick as I:
Yet I've no tongue—and few my language read,
But with my brethren I'm so well agreed,
That tho' we live full many a mile apart,
To each the same idea we impart;
So sympathize that when I silence break,
As by one impulse mov'd, the rest all speak.
England receiv'd and rear'd me as her own;
By her promoted to a lofty station,
I labour in the service of the nation;
And though my foreign lineage may provoke
Honest John Bull, who hates Outlandish folk,
He need not fear me—for I'm heart of oak.
Fix'd to a spot, yet constantly in motion,
I bring intelligence from land and ocean,
And without quitting my appointed place,
Scarce thought itself is quicker in the race;
The gossip Fame may throw her trumpet by,
She cannot spread reports so quick as I:
103
But with my brethren I'm so well agreed,
That tho' we live full many a mile apart,
To each the same idea we impart;
So sympathize that when I silence break,
As by one impulse mov'd, the rest all speak.
Submissive I am rul'd by others' hands,
Yet fleets and armies move by my commands;
I boast no beauty—and yet Lords of State
Watch all my looks, and on my motions wait;
And tho' unvers'd in politics' deep school,
I'm of the minister a useful tool;
An Oracle whose words admit no doubts,
And credited alike by ins and outs;
To military skill I've no pretence,
Yet on the war depends my consequence.
Yet fleets and armies move by my commands;
I boast no beauty—and yet Lords of State
Watch all my looks, and on my motions wait;
And tho' unvers'd in politics' deep school,
I'm of the minister a useful tool;
An Oracle whose words admit no doubts,
And credited alike by ins and outs;
To military skill I've no pretence,
Yet on the war depends my consequence.
104
Peace once restor'd, neglected I shall mourn
My honours lost, “my occupation gone:”
Yet why despair, for surely there remains
Some Gallic spirit yet within my veins?
And Frenchmen, ever fruitful in resources,
Can turn their talents into different courses;
Pliant can bend to ev'ry change of fate,
Whether they guide the stew-pan or the state;
So if by fierce Bellona I'm dismiss'd,
Beneath soft Cupid's banners I'll enlist.
My honours lost, “my occupation gone:”
Yet why despair, for surely there remains
Some Gallic spirit yet within my veins?
And Frenchmen, ever fruitful in resources,
Can turn their talents into different courses;
Pliant can bend to ev'ry change of fate,
Whether they guide the stew-pan or the state;
So if by fierce Bellona I'm dismiss'd,
Beneath soft Cupid's banners I'll enlist.
Lovers, my graphic skill employ'd for you,
Will supersede the tell-tale billet-doux.
No more the rude Philistines of a court,
Shall turn your soft effusions into sport;
When I the love-inspiring sentence frame
In words as evanescent as your flame.
Will supersede the tell-tale billet-doux.
No more the rude Philistines of a court,
Shall turn your soft effusions into sport;
When I the love-inspiring sentence frame
In words as evanescent as your flame.
105
No longer shall the impatient Fair bewail
The ling'ring postman, or the tardy mail,
When I love's gentler signals to obey,
The tender wish, and ardent vow convey,
“Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
“And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.’
The ling'ring postman, or the tardy mail,
When I love's gentler signals to obey,
The tender wish, and ardent vow convey,
“Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
“And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.’
| The Peacock at Home; and Other Poems | |