The Works of John Hall-Stevenson :: :: University of Virginia Library

According to the Romish creed,
I speak of Rome two thousand years ago,
The life that they suppos'd the Gods to lead,
You would not chuse to undergo.
Jupiter's business, day and night,
Was to attend with open ears and eyes,
And to write down as fast as he could write
All the impertinence that men devise

Besides men's fopperies and ravings,
The women had so great a share,
That their absurdities and cravings
Omnipotence alone could bear.
And furthermore, to try his patience,
He heard the prayers and fanciful distresses
Of all his children and relations,
And of his wife and his mis-tresses.
Once on a time, if you'll believe tradition,
A river in great tribulation,
To Juplter presented a petition,
With an expostulating exhortation;
Whereby, if the petitioner's refus'd,
He has a right to think himself ill-us'd;
A form of prayer contriv'd for execution,
Exactly like a double-barrell'd gun,
Which if you fire with resolution,
You have another chance when one is done:
So far from killing two birds with one stone,
An art that's very little known;
All the petitioner desir'd to do,
Was to kill one with two.

Now this petition shew'd how the petitioner
For his attachment and devotion,
Had been appointed a commissioner
Of the revenues of the Ocean,
Which he collected with great pains,
And sent in good and current cash,
But for his trouble and clear gains,
The Sea return'd adulterated trash:
Wherefore he pray'd,
Exhorted and submitted,
That all the sums the Ocean pay'd
Shall for the future be remitted,
And issued fair,
Without debasement or impair.
Ungrateful Thames! the God reply'd
Without that mixture and alloy,
Which the Sea pours into thee every tide,
Thy beauty and thy strength would wear away.
Without his aid thou wouldst remain
Like Tiber, or the poor pretending Seine,
Led through parterres or roll'd down a cascade,
Confin'd to vanity, and lost to trade.

'Tis thus the Highlander complains,
'Tis thus the Union they abuse
For binding their back-sides in chains,
And shackling their free feet in shoes:
For giving them our food and fewel,
And comfortable cloaths;
Instead of cruel oat-meal gruel;
Instead of rags and heretable blows.
Luxury every day grows stronger;
The Highland fair,
Beholds her lover now no longer;
Trotting with his buttocks bare.
Thus Doctor Brown was taken with the spleen,
And fancied we were all undone,
Raving about a carpet and a screen,
And out of temper with the sun:
Because it is a crime,
As he supposes,
For men to run in winter time
Into the sun to warm their noses.
'Tis an egregious want of sense,
A want of taste and want of shame,

When universal affluence
And luxury are deem'd the same.
Good Doctor, spite of your discerning,
The term of Universal will agree
With your benevolence and learning,
Just as it suits with luxury.
You may perceive, if you be so inclin'd,
Like your discernment, luxury's confin'd.
For as the gout torments the hands and feet,
To ease the nobler stomach and the head,
So luxury, to gratify the great,
Insults and robs the labourer of his bread.
Luxury in a state is a disease,
Because 'tis partial and obstructed wealth,
But universal affluence and ease
Is universal happiness and health.

FABLE II. The PHENIX and her Lovers.

That every female's a Coquette,
I could as safely swear upon a book,
As I cou'd safely bet,
That ev'ry Frenchman is a cook.
A Phenix, daughter of the Sun,
Chaste as a Vestal, modest as a Nun,
Added such merit to her birth,
That not a bird, though of the highest fashion,
No feather'd Coxcomb of the earth
Ventur'd to declare his passion.
They all agreed,
No earthly bird was worthy of her love;
None but a bird of the celestial breed,
An angel from above.
The Phenix liv'd so long a maid;
Till all her gaiety and bloom
Began to fade;
And savour of the tomb.

She mop'd, grew splenetic, and tir'd
Of so much awe and so much state;
She long'd like other birds to be admir'd,
Like other birds she long'd to find a mate.
At last she issued out a proclamation
To summon the male birds of every nation;
Perhaps this summons and this longing
Was a political machine,
Just like the lovers that came thronging,
Summon'd by our virgin Queen.
Now, from all quarters,
The birds appear'd in their best cloaths;
Nobles in stars and garters,
Curl'd and embroider'd beaux.
Some stately; others light and gay;
One coo'd, another sang and flatter'd,
Some like the Magpie and the Jay
For ever chatter'd.
About the inner ring,
Where all the Birds of figure press,
A bat whirl'd round with leathern wing,
To shew his shape and his address,

Offering his heart, his eyes and wings to boot,
At which there rose a universal hoot.
The Phenix answer'd in the tone,
And in the self-same manner languish'd,
As good Queen Bess when she was shewn,
A taylor by her beauty vanquish'd;
Take courage man, says she,
For if I needs must have a taylor,
I promise without failure
To marry none but thee.
And as the Queen coquetted at an age
When other Queens are tame,
Till she went off the stage;
The Phenix did the same.
She died a great coquette, and, what is more,
Rose from the grave a greater than before.
The Phenix and self-love are the same beast,
Within the human breast,
Which poets feign the spicy East,
She builds her solitary nest;
From whence with every gale of wind,
The traveller may smell the mind.

Her Lovers are our passions; these she meets,
Either by appointment or by chance,
Which, if she can't indulge, she treats
With smiles and complaisance.
And, as the Phenix from her ashes rais'd,
Returns as blooming as a bride,
So when we think it dies, the Lord be prais'd,
Self-love springs up again with double pride.
'Tis a determin'd case,
None but ourselves can occupy our place.
For this same reason, physical and clear,
Each individual of us all
Is that same Phenix, without any peer,
On this terrestrial ball.
Lovers are mad-men and a miser
Not one jot wiser.
Let any try, except a Lover,
Or one devoted to his pelf,
Whether in all the world thcy can discover
Another Self.

FABLE III. The DUCKLINGS and the wise birds.

A hen one evening, to enjoy the cool,
Was walking with a brood of Ducklings callow,
Just like a mistress of a boarding-school,
With misses green and yellow.
As she was tutoring and schooling
This bird for loitering, and that for fooling,
Behold a fish-pond so alluring,
That, spite of her remonstrances and cackle,
They ventur'd their whole stock without ensuring,
Trusting to their oars and tackle.
The Hen kept scolding like a drab,
Cursing her rebellious race;
We are not thy children, cried a pert young Squab,
If we were Chickens we shou'd have more grace;
On nature we depend,
Our course she steers,
Nature's a safer guide, and better friend
Than any Dotard's fears.

Close by the pond an ancient tower
Lifted its venerable head,
A college and sequester'd bower,
Where Owls for ages had been bred;
An old professor, a great clerk,
Taught them their talents to display,
To keep their eyes wide open in the dark,
And shut them in the face of day.
To think abstractedly, to reason deep,
And to declaim, till all the world's asleep.
These students from the tower saw our young folks,
Our bold Adventurers, under sail;
They heard their clamorous mirth and jokes,
And heard their nurse's fruitless wail.
Observe, say's one more learned than the rest,
These birds by instinct know the season,
To sail, to eat, to go to rest,
Just as we know by argument and reason.
We know from reason and experience both,
We see it every hour;
That Governors are loth
To part with power

Yon Hen which you all hear,
In such a fright,
Undoubtedly affects that fear,
To keep her pupils always in her sight.
From the same principle, for the same end,
Our Tutor keeps us all thus penn'd:
Preaching that we must not pretend to fly,
We are too weak; it is too soon;
This I'll demonstrate is a lie,
As clear as the sun at noon.
Feet, said the subtle Owl,
Are not the things
That constitute the essence of a fowl,
So much as wings.
Whatever is essential to our make
We soonest learn, and seldomest mistake.
Hence that pathetic prayer, that tender call,
By which we get our wants dispatch'd,
Is so essential above all,
That we all speak the moment we are hatch'd.
Nature, benevolent and wise,
Opens our mouths much sooner than our eyes.

By parity of reason meet,
Our wings and pinions should be ready
Long time before our heads and feet
Are firm and steady.
Therefore 'twill follow like a chain,
That as we walk, you must confess,
With little giddiness and pain,
If we attempt it, we must fly with less.
This reasoning philosophic wight
Convinc'd his brethren one and all:
With one accord they took their flight,
And fatal and untimely was their fall.
None of them reason'd any more,
The young logicians lay like wrecks,
Drown'd in the pond or scatter'd on the shore,
With mangled limbs and broken necks.
Bred in a court or some gay city,
The Ducklings are those thoughtless spritely fools.
O Cambridge, is it not a pity,
Strangers to thee, and to thy schools!

FABLE IV. LA NOBLESSE DE FRANCE.

The fighting COCK and the CRAVEN.

A cock, an officer of foot,
In France retir'd into a village,
Where he did nought but crow and strut,
And live by pillage.
Whene'er he had a mind
To take his pastime with the fair,
He was not to one wife confin'd,
Nor to a pair;
But, like a lord,
Had half a dozen both at bed and board.
He spied a barn-door fowl one day,
Cram'd from the rump up to the gullet,
In amorous dalliance and play
With a young pullet.
His robes and train, his senatorial cap,
His size, almost the size of geese,
Shew'd that he had been nurtur'd in the lap
Of peace.

Bred for the bench and presidental chair,
He judg'd, he roosted, and digested there.
The military cock took as much pleasure
As an unlucky page,
To see the magistrate employ his leisure
So much below his dignity and age.
He that should set a good example!
Be virtuous and discreet!
To tread on modesty, and trample
Chastity beneath his feet!
Fine times, says he, when judges run
Seducing maidens in the open sun!
This wanton fit
Comes of intemperance and over-eating,
Which, as it soon will bring you to the spit,
Shall save your reverence from a beating
To this reproof,
With a sly sneer the judge reply'd aloof:
'Tis true that I and all my brood,
When we have run the race assign'd
Shall have the honour to become the food
And comfort of mankind.

An unexpected death
Shall gently steal, not force away our breath.
Good Colonel, you are mightily mistaken,
It is not owing to respect, indeed,
That you are neither boil'd, like us, with bacon,
Roasted nor fricasséed.
But tho' your flesh be men's aversion,
Yet it contributes much to their diversion;
They give you barley, bread, and oats,
Because they take great pleasure and delight
To see you fight;
To see you cutting one another's throats.
If you escape and are not slain in war,
You are in a worse plight by far.
Amongst the hogs,
Wounded and lame upon a dunghill cast,
By wanton boys and puppy dogs,
Worried or teaz'd to death at last.
In France the land-tax is not as 'tis here,
A tax where you appeal and squabble;
There the nobility go free and clear,
Like the rascality and rabble.

The same exemption pards and tigers own;
And the base polecat caught in gins:
Their flesh and bone we let alone,
We ask them nothing but their skins.

FABLE V. The DOG and the CAT.

Interest fascinates both age and youth,
And, with a glance of her bewitching eye,
Can make a Minister speak truth,
Or make a mighty Monarch tell a lie.
She can set brothers by the ears,
And, what you'll scarce believe, perhaps,
Make sisters as harmonious as the spheres,
And live together without pulling caps.
'Tis she gives every one her place,
Oft, like a blundering marshal at a feast,
Joining a scoundrel to his grace,
An atheist to a priest.
Interest, well understood,
Made Solomon, makes Melcomb now declare
That life is only good
To eat and drink, and laugh, and banish care.

Close by a kitchen fire, a dog and cat,
Each a famous politician,
Were meditating as they sat,
Plans and projects of ambition.
By the same fire were set to warm,
Fragments of their master's dinner;
Temptations to alarm,
The frailty of a sinner.
Clear prurient water stream'd from Pompey's jaws,
And Tabby look'd demure, and lick'd her paws;
And as two plenipos,
For fear of a surprise,
When both have something to propose,
Examine one another's eyes;
Or like two Maids, tho' smit by different swains,
In jealous conference o'er a dish of tea,
Pompey and Tabby both, cudgell'd their brains,
Studying each other's physiognomy.
Pompey, endow'd with finer sense,
Discover'd in a cast of Tabby's face
A symptom of concupiscence,
Which made it a clear case.

When straight applying to the dawning passion,
Pompey address'd her in this fashion;
Both you and I, with vigilance and zeal,
Becoming faithful dogs, and pious cats,
Have guarded day and night this common-weal
From robbery and rats;
All that we get for this, Heaven knows,
Is a few bones and many blows.
Let us no longer fawn and whine,
Since we have talents and are able;
Let us impose an equitable fine
Upon our master's table;
And, to be brief,
Let us each chuse a single dish,
I'll be contented with roast beef,
Take you that turbot—you love fish.
Thus every dog and cat agrees,
When they can settle their own fees.
Thus two contending chiefs are seen
To agree at last in every measure;
One takes the management of the marine,
The other of the nation's treasure.

FABLE VI. The SPIDER and the FLY

With malice fell,
A spider watch'd within his cell,
Ready to sally,
Th' unwary traveller to souse,
Like a Jew broker in the alley,
Or a Dutch merchant in his counting-house,
Like them he corresponded far and near,
And, tho' his trade was intricate and dark,
He manag'd his affairs and kept all clear,
Without a partner or a clerk.
A petit maître, a gaudy fly,
Thinking to scamper unmolested,
With airy equipage as he pass'd by,
By cruel Cacus was arrested.
Furnish'd with that undaunted sense,
Which only courts and camps can teach,

Having no weapon or defence,
Except his instrument of speech,
The fly with flattering soporific strains,
Tried to benumb the spider's brains:
Hearing such daily praise bestow'd,
Upon your elegance in weaving,
I came to visit your abode,
Which is magnificent beyond believing.
And now I am convinc'd, if you will drop.
The linen trade,
And take to weaving velvets and brocade,
The sallad-eaters soon must shut up shop,
Change but your diet, and, like their's, your taste
Will grow refin'd, correct and chaste.
As I have study'd every herb and leaf,
That's either noxious or good to eat,
Make me your caterer in chief,
And pourveyor of all your meat.
Send me this instant in a trice,
I'll bring you something savoury and nice.

Seeing the spider smile and grin,
He found his plot would not succeed,
It was too thin,
For one of that sagacious breed;
On which he fell a vapouring and buzzing,
Swearing the drones would take the alarm,
And come to the assistance of their cousin
With an enormous swarm.
The drones and I are no such strangers,
We know, said Cacus, what we both can do,
They are too wise to run their heads in dangers,
For such a busy meddling fool as you;
But, since you come to spoil our manufacture,
And poison honest traders,
I'll hang you like a malefactor,
To terrify invaders.
No sooner said than done,
He knock'd him down, and hung him in the sun.
The spider, like Mynheer, goes on:
Is watchful, subtle, and alert,
The fly is either proud, like Don;
Or like a Frenchman vain and pert.

When you are plagu'd with any flies,
Spanish or French, small flies or great,
Maintain your high spider allies,
In order to preserve your meat.

FABLE VII. The wild DUCKS and the water SPANIEL.

After a tedious flight,
Of many a stormy day and night;
A flock of wild ducks sailing up and down,
Upon a lake were making merry;
Like sailors in a sea-port town
Just arriv'd from Pondicherry.
A swan too stately far for sport,
To shew herself was all her view,
Had undertaken to escort
The jovial crew.
Swelling and bridling
With all the airs of a fine dame at court;
Turning about and sidling,
Advancing and then stopping short,
Displaying in her features
Contempt and insolent dejection,
To signify that those strange creatures
Were forc'd upon her for protection.
I must confess, amongst mankind
I have seen swans as foolishly inclin'd.

At Paris on the Seine,
I have seen a French marquee conduct a pair
Of German barons to the fair
Of Saint Germaine,
Strutting before them, tossing up his head,
Then looking back, and lowering his crest,
The barons were so awkward, so ill-bred,
And so ill-dress'd.
Have you not seen a new-made peer
With equal pride, but greater trepidations,
Observing in his rear
A troop of country relations
Run up Saint James's-street, and at two leaps,
Take Arthur's steps?
Those steps as terrible as the Tarpeian,
From whence with one black ball you are hurl'd
Into another world
Amongst the damn'd Plebeian.
Perhaps this grave and solemn swan
Dislik'd the company of those wild-ducks;
Just as a prude, or a sober man,
Dislikes the company of bucks.

For whilst they made more noise and riot
Than twenty justices of peace,
The swan was serious and quiet
As col'nel Gander marching with his geese,
Marching to the field,
With gorget and a wooden shield.
About the middle of the lake,
Upon the banks a water-spaniel lay,
Looking out for duck or drake
Or any lawful prey;
And as the captain of a privateer
Lies by,
Nor offers to bear down, nor gives a cheer
'Till his expected prize begins to fly,
Close to the shore the spaniel let them sail,
And rush'd into the lake when they turn'd tail,
Snorting and snoring;
Pursuing them with all his force,
Swearing and roaring,
Till he was hoarse;
He turn'd and veer'd,

Now made a stretch, and then a tack;
Now snapp'd, and now they disappear'd,
And rose again a long way back;
Till the poor spiritless exhausted brute
Was forc'd to give up the pursuit.
And as the French to Toulon ran,
And left the Spaniards in a scrape,
The moment that the fray began,
The swan made her escape.
Quite out of reach,
A roan duck upon the beach.
Under a shed,
Consider'd the whole scene with wonder,
Just like Caligula under the bed,
Studying the cause of lightning and thunder.
As the victorious crew pass'd by in order,
He made them an oration;
The roan duck being the recorder,
Or burgomaster of the corporation.
Leave your abandon'd lives,
Roving like pirates and Jews,
Come hither with your children and your wives,

And settle peaceably in our mews.
We'll take you without any fuss,
Here we have neither law nor code,
You are only tied to copy us,
And go by custom and the mode;
You shall be fashionably dress'd,
Protected, treated, and caress'd;
A friseur, with an instrument of steel,
Shall shape your wings and your toupee,
Make them sit perfectly genteel,
Easy and free.
As to the rest, you may gather from my looks
Whether the air is good,
And whether we have wholesome food,
Or tolerable cooks.
Peace, wretch, the chieftain of the ducks reply'd,
Nor with thy venal breath offend the brave;
Freedom is as much our pride,
As it is thine to be a slave.
We neither injure nor provoke;
We neither fear great nor small,
Because we scorn to yield to any yoke,

We are hated by them all.
From pole to pole pursu'd,
From pole to pole,
Our enemies have every soul
Been baffled and subdu'd.
Lords of three elements, we can maintain
Our rights, our freedom and possessions,
With the same ease that we disdain,
Thy offers and insidious professions.
In our own virtue we confide,
On others how can we rely,
When fear or hope, envy or pride
May turn a friend into a false ally?
Those who depend on others;
Whether on males or females they depend,
Will find the swan has many brothers,
And sisters without end.

FABLE VIII. The Advice of an Old SPANIEL.

A certain dog of middling birth,
Frolicksome and full of play:
Even in the height of all his mirth,
Delicate as well as gay:
With far more feeling for his friend,
Than they could either taste or comprehend.—
Being thrown into the world betimes,
Betimes discover'd it was all a cheat,
Yet not so dangerous for odious crimes,
As odious for malice and deceit,
Oft when he meant to have amus'd
His friends with a conceit, or harmless jest,
By many he was snarl'd at and abus'd,
And slighted even by the best.
Oft, when half-starv'd, he found a bone,
Or something hid,
Instead of eating it alone,
As others did,
He ran to share his daily bread,
Unsought

With those that were much better fed
Than taught,
His daily bread they seiz'd,
And drove him from their mess,
More disappointed and displeas'd
With their ingratitude than his distress
It is a maxim amongst dogs,—
When they have the address and skill,—
To slip their collars and their clogs,
And leave their friends that use them ill.
To avoid anxiety and strife,
Tray was resolv'd to try a country life.
A country dog, I think,
Is exactly like a country squire,
They both are only fit to sleep and stink
By their own fire;
And when awake are only good
To yelp and hollow in a wood.
Their joys,
And conversation are the same,
'Tis all a clamour and a noise,
And all the noise and clamour about game.

Three words compose their whole vocabulary,
A fox, a hare, and a fine scenting day;
Whether they are serious or merry,
'Tis all they have to say:
In short, they never are so entertaining,
As when they're fast asleep or feigning.
To quit such friends as these,
One would not grieve:
Tray parted from them with great ease,
Without so much as taking leave,
Consults his grandsire, by profession,
A spaniel;
For judgement and discretion,
A perfect Daniel.
Benign and mild,
He heard his grandson's grievances, and smil'd.
Grandson, said he, I do conceive,
If you had known the world, and how things go,
But half as much as you believe,
Or twice as much as I believe you know,
You would not have complain'd,

That dogs behave to one another
When they are unchain'd,
Like every creature to his brother.
Say, dupe of a rash confidence and trust,
If you lie open and unguarded,
Is it not just,
That vigilance should be rewarded?
'Twas neither nature's call,
Nor my instruction,
To trust your friends at all;
Much less, to trust them to your own destruction.
A painful and severe attention
Is but a necessary fence,
To every dog of sense,
Against deceit and circumvention,
A task from which you hop'd to be reliev'd
By trusting to your friends:
You are deceiv'd,
Acting as much as they for your own ends.
All the world knows,
That friendship's a mere sound;
A sound that hardly can impose

Upon a puppy hound.
Nature is not to blame,
Flatter'd by cunning, indolence invented
That foolish name,
By which so many fools are circumvented.
Happiness you'll seldom find,
Unless you learn
To have no weighty interest or concern
With those of your own kind;
Unless you learn (if it is not too late)
That they are neither worth your love nor hate.