 | Satires And Biography |  |
SHROVE TUESDAY,
A SATIRIC RHAPSODY.
3
------ CARPE DIEM.
Dolts have affirm'd (what will not dolts declare?)
The laws of custom should be laws obey'd!
There are who combat such didactic ills,
And give the precept to the roving breeze:
Among that sapient herd of peery wights,
(When the bright day first stole upon the sense,
And lesser planets Phœbus had o'erlum'd)
Environ'd by his ladies and his young,
A Parent Cock thus eloquently moan'd:
The laws of custom should be laws obey'd!
There are who combat such didactic ills,
And give the precept to the roving breeze:
Among that sapient herd of peery wights,
(When the bright day first stole upon the sense,
And lesser planets Phœbus had o'erlum'd)
Environ'd by his ladies and his young,
A Parent Cock thus eloquently moan'd:
Too surely my foreboding mind depicts
The big disasters of this fatal day,
That may give me and half my martial race,
Like Ilion's chief, to Desolation's gripe:
Ah! my poor wives, 'tis fit ye cease to cluck,
For fear and desperation are your own;
Salacious hussies, let the tides of woe
Flow down your party-color'd cheeks amain
In ample torrents, as in Anna's reign
Fleet-Ditch was disembogu'd into the Thames;
Or Niagara's raging cataract;
Or the rude Rhine, which rushes down the steep
And tumbles headlong foaming to the plain;
Or Montmorency's tribute to Saint Larry;
Or water-spout, when bursting on the bark;
For all my envied gallantries are o'er!
No more shall I select the ripen'd grain,
Or turning the reeking dunghill o'er and o'er,
To find tid-bits to gratify my spouse:
Half-metamorphos'd grubs, or palmer brown,
Muck-moisten'd crust, or adders yellow spawn,
The granam, Welchman's button or the orl,
Grey drake or dragon, cadis or blue gnat,
Which jolly anglers vigilant ensnare,
To gull the sinny tenants of the stream.
No more the Barcelona 'kerchief throw
To lure my mistress to the bed of glee;
Oh! bring me poison to arrest that thought,
Some searching aconite of potent tooth,
Helleborum, or the juice of laurus,
Or sapphire bane which fills the scorpion's jaw,
Keen ars'nick pulveris'd by Rancor's hand,
Hot slaver from the furrow'd virgin's tongue,
That Chinese drug yclep'd gunpowder tea,
Or that dread weed perturbed Tuscans give
To wound the organs of a faithless knight.
Shrove Tuesday! horrid sanguinary sound!
Had I the papal power apostolic,
Or wore the British mitre metropolitan,
No Christian hundred, bailiwick or burgh,
Should ever note an epoch so severe.
The big disasters of this fatal day,
That may give me and half my martial race,
Like Ilion's chief, to Desolation's gripe:
Ah! my poor wives, 'tis fit ye cease to cluck,
For fear and desperation are your own;
Salacious hussies, let the tides of woe
Flow down your party-color'd cheeks amain
In ample torrents, as in Anna's reign
Fleet-Ditch was disembogu'd into the Thames;
Or Niagara's raging cataract;
Or the rude Rhine, which rushes down the steep
And tumbles headlong foaming to the plain;
Or Montmorency's tribute to Saint Larry;
Or water-spout, when bursting on the bark;
4
No more shall I select the ripen'd grain,
Or turning the reeking dunghill o'er and o'er,
To find tid-bits to gratify my spouse:
Half-metamorphos'd grubs, or palmer brown,
Muck-moisten'd crust, or adders yellow spawn,
The granam, Welchman's button or the orl,
Grey drake or dragon, cadis or blue gnat,
Which jolly anglers vigilant ensnare,
To gull the sinny tenants of the stream.
No more the Barcelona 'kerchief throw
To lure my mistress to the bed of glee;
Oh! bring me poison to arrest that thought,
Some searching aconite of potent tooth,
Helleborum, or the juice of laurus,
Or sapphire bane which fills the scorpion's jaw,
Keen ars'nick pulveris'd by Rancor's hand,
Hot slaver from the furrow'd virgin's tongue,
That Chinese drug yclep'd gunpowder tea,
Or that dread weed perturbed Tuscans give
To wound the organs of a faithless knight.
Shrove Tuesday! horrid sanguinary sound!
Had I the papal power apostolic,
Or wore the British mitre metropolitan,
No Christian hundred, bailiwick or burgh,
Should ever note an epoch so severe.
First of celestials, high imperial Don,
Or thou great Juno (if you love a Cock)
Oh! send me Gyges' ring but for a day!
Or thou great Juno (if you love a Cock)
Oh! send me Gyges' ring but for a day!
Who will be jubilant when we're extinct?
Save the pale traitor and the shepherd's boy,
The lurking eyes-dropper and midnight thief,
Poppy fed handmaid or the fat-cas'd slave
Who honors Morpheus most among the gods.
Save the pale traitor and the shepherd's boy,
The lurking eyes-dropper and midnight thief,
Poppy fed handmaid or the fat-cas'd slave
Who honors Morpheus most among the gods.
Will not the Lord of Light refuse his beam
To solace the assassins in their toil?
Have we not all diurnally huzza'd
When he forsook his bagnio in the deep,
Drove by quick stages up the eastern heights,
Awaken'd Tithonus with vivid gleams,
And held his lantern 'bove the saline wave?
To solace the assassins in their toil?
Have we not all diurnally huzza'd
When he forsook his bagnio in the deep,
Drove by quick stages up the eastern heights,
Awaken'd Tithonus with vivid gleams,
And held his lantern 'bove the saline wave?
Can none remember? yes, I know all must,
When my gay Chanticleer was torn away,
The pin-basket of my sultana hen?
Pardon this imbecility, these throbs,
These gushing tears, that inundate the earth.
The eye's an honest agent to the heart;
Can I reflect and be not what I am?
Beauteous Gallina, biped most august?
She was more charmful than the Paphian queen
When first she blazon'd from the pregnant main,
Wrung her wet tresses and gave nature bliss,
Or fair Tecmessa or Minonian maid,
Or Agarista who bewitch'd the Greeks,
Or flippant Daphne or Miss Kitty Morse!
Oh! my dear wench, how frantic bill to bill,
Leagu'd have we trod this world beneath our feet,
Equall'd the mandate of supreme Desire,
And tun'd that nerve which elevates the soul!
I fed insatiate on her passive frame
'Till every sense was agonis'd by joy!
From that blest sod her ashes have sublim'd
Flow'rets with added perfume shall arise
As Venus' blood gave splendor to the rose.
When my gay Chanticleer was torn away,
The pin-basket of my sultana hen?
5
These gushing tears, that inundate the earth.
The eye's an honest agent to the heart;
Can I reflect and be not what I am?
Beauteous Gallina, biped most august?
She was more charmful than the Paphian queen
When first she blazon'd from the pregnant main,
Wrung her wet tresses and gave nature bliss,
Or fair Tecmessa or Minonian maid,
Or Agarista who bewitch'd the Greeks,
Or flippant Daphne or Miss Kitty Morse!
Oh! my dear wench, how frantic bill to bill,
Leagu'd have we trod this world beneath our feet,
Equall'd the mandate of supreme Desire,
And tun'd that nerve which elevates the soul!
I fed insatiate on her passive frame
'Till every sense was agonis'd by joy!
From that blest sod her ashes have sublim'd
Flow'rets with added perfume shall arise
As Venus' blood gave splendor to the rose.
My Chan, my boy, was massacred elate
By common oafs, to swell a bill of fare
At Cynthia's rendezvous, superb Vauxhall,
Where haberdashers riot once a year,
Encircled by their ruddy dames and fry
(Embrio cuckolds, yet indenture bound,
And dowdy damsels knit on Garlick hill)
The honest issue of their civic loins;
There, havoc-taught, they masticate and stare,
Greas'd o'er the mazzard up to either eye
On fowl, beef, ham, tarts, custards, cakes and ale,
And juice-sophisticate, which they call—wind.
Then pay the total with a sonorous growl
And give the page a tester and a curse!
Chan's matchless note, so dulcified, so shrill,
Would make Cecilia listen from a cloud,
'Twould rival Incledon's enslaving song.
But he is gone for ever and a day,
Hurl'd from his station, 'fore his acmé bloom'd,
And all his precious atoms zig-zag drove
Thro' the intestines of some coarse-wove cit,
Haply to pass (ere Liberation came)
Layers of substance made of fish and flesh,
Vast reservoirs of garbage, floods of filth,
A puzzling archipelago of fat,
Where, by a recubate and oblique duct,
They rumbling sunk to Nature's sally-port,
Thence dropt unchyl'd, to fertilise the land.
That thought unscrews the linch-pin of my mind,
Gives crude ideas liberty of wing,
Who bruise the pia mater as they scud,
And madden me with indignation!
Who could compete with my immortal boy?
Not young Antinous whom Adrian priz'd,
Or Ganymede who lick'd th'ambrosial dish,
Or scented fop Liriope had wove,
Or that Narcissus Claudius call'd his own,
Or—but th'attempt to equalize is vain:
Plumage more brilliant Snyders never drew,
Hondicooter, Gilles or, Tempesta,
Savery, Vincaboon or Giovanni,
Elmer, Pyreicus, or any he,
In Greece, or Italy, or Flanders school'd!
He bore his crest as proud as Edward's knights,
Who brain'd the Saracen in Salem's vale;
His intellects were of the first degree,
His language had the bright Horatian point,
His periods flow'd with dithyrambick force,
Keen as the argument of Rutland's eye,
And soft and polish'd as sweet Blandford's limb:
His thought was comprehensive, vast and just;
Or if, to aggrandize his mental gains,
Distrusting that perfection he possest,
(For Modesty and Genius breathe entwin'd)
He caught the opinion of another sage:
The gather'd axiom met the public ear,
Like simple streams, which journ'ying 'neath the mead,
Imbibe the virtues of the mineral pass,
Then re-appear to give the thirsty health.
Oh, that his pect'ral bellows yet could blow,
I'd make him chaunt a solemn drimmunduh,
Or jocund plangstee, pœan or quaint air,
Such as Lyæus, lusty, flush'd and blythe,
Reclining on his tygers, belching hail'd
When the nocturnal orgied muzz'd his brain.
Yet this you'll say's father's elocution,
But marvel not I laud such worth entomb'd;
I've read the Callipædia o'er and o'er,
And know the arts to procreate with grace.
Should I in Error's apron be inwrapt,
And overprize an object that's defunct,
Let not your sarcasm war with my delight,
Or cloud the sympathy 'twixt sire and son.
Not merchant's riders toil to hide their bags!
Or beau the stocking's darn above the shoe!
Or spinster fair the sullied worn chemise.
Or urchin wight his dirty hands at school!
Or titled knave the blot in his escutcheon!
Or silken barrister the page of truth!
Or Edgecumbe's mighty Earl his shins of beef!
Or lovers young their purpose from Discretion!
So much as I that image of myself:
But all could not avail; the blow is giv'n,
Atropos snapp'd her patent Sheffield sheers,
His hour was come, and Cocks and Kings must die.
By common oafs, to swell a bill of fare
At Cynthia's rendezvous, superb Vauxhall,
Where haberdashers riot once a year,
Encircled by their ruddy dames and fry
(Embrio cuckolds, yet indenture bound,
And dowdy damsels knit on Garlick hill)
The honest issue of their civic loins;
There, havoc-taught, they masticate and stare,
Greas'd o'er the mazzard up to either eye
On fowl, beef, ham, tarts, custards, cakes and ale,
And juice-sophisticate, which they call—wind.
Then pay the total with a sonorous growl
And give the page a tester and a curse!
Chan's matchless note, so dulcified, so shrill,
Would make Cecilia listen from a cloud,
'Twould rival Incledon's enslaving song.
But he is gone for ever and a day,
Hurl'd from his station, 'fore his acmé bloom'd,
And all his precious atoms zig-zag drove
Thro' the intestines of some coarse-wove cit,
Haply to pass (ere Liberation came)
Layers of substance made of fish and flesh,
Vast reservoirs of garbage, floods of filth,
6
Where, by a recubate and oblique duct,
They rumbling sunk to Nature's sally-port,
Thence dropt unchyl'd, to fertilise the land.
That thought unscrews the linch-pin of my mind,
Gives crude ideas liberty of wing,
Who bruise the pia mater as they scud,
And madden me with indignation!
Who could compete with my immortal boy?
Not young Antinous whom Adrian priz'd,
Or Ganymede who lick'd th'ambrosial dish,
Or scented fop Liriope had wove,
Or that Narcissus Claudius call'd his own,
Or—but th'attempt to equalize is vain:
Plumage more brilliant Snyders never drew,
Hondicooter, Gilles or, Tempesta,
Savery, Vincaboon or Giovanni,
Elmer, Pyreicus, or any he,
In Greece, or Italy, or Flanders school'd!
He bore his crest as proud as Edward's knights,
Who brain'd the Saracen in Salem's vale;
His intellects were of the first degree,
His language had the bright Horatian point,
His periods flow'd with dithyrambick force,
Keen as the argument of Rutland's eye,
And soft and polish'd as sweet Blandford's limb:
His thought was comprehensive, vast and just;
Or if, to aggrandize his mental gains,
Distrusting that perfection he possest,
(For Modesty and Genius breathe entwin'd)
He caught the opinion of another sage:
The gather'd axiom met the public ear,
Like simple streams, which journ'ying 'neath the mead,
Imbibe the virtues of the mineral pass,
Then re-appear to give the thirsty health.
Oh, that his pect'ral bellows yet could blow,
I'd make him chaunt a solemn drimmunduh,
Or jocund plangstee, pœan or quaint air,
Such as Lyæus, lusty, flush'd and blythe,
Reclining on his tygers, belching hail'd
When the nocturnal orgied muzz'd his brain.
Yet this you'll say's father's elocution,
But marvel not I laud such worth entomb'd;
I've read the Callipædia o'er and o'er,
7
Should I in Error's apron be inwrapt,
And overprize an object that's defunct,
Let not your sarcasm war with my delight,
Or cloud the sympathy 'twixt sire and son.
Not merchant's riders toil to hide their bags!
Or beau the stocking's darn above the shoe!
Or spinster fair the sullied worn chemise.
Or urchin wight his dirty hands at school!
Or titled knave the blot in his escutcheon!
Or silken barrister the page of truth!
Or Edgecumbe's mighty Earl his shins of beef!
Or lovers young their purpose from Discretion!
So much as I that image of myself:
But all could not avail; the blow is giv'n,
Atropos snapp'd her patent Sheffield sheers,
His hour was come, and Cocks and Kings must die.
Ah me, that Cocks should be annoy'd with stones!
Not holy Stephen, first amid the blest,
Or Aduram whom Rehoboam prais'd,
Or great Micipsa's ebon-tinted son,
Or Caledonian witch, or monster vile,
On pillory uprais'd at Charing Cross;
Or death-devoted cat, or cur insane,
Have been so stick or pebble smote as me!
Last year my cousin-german Ginger fell,
And then my uncle Shagbag hapless bled,
Who valued high and oft his antique blood,
As lineally descended from that bird,
That caution'd wayward Peter of his grief!
Oh he was (every inch) a cock of cocks!
My brother Bantam too, who dauntless stood,
Fetter'd, like old Caractacus, and scoff'd,
Was struck upon the pegs, and bit the dust:
Men hate all saucy losels but themselves!
Not holy Stephen, first amid the blest,
Or Aduram whom Rehoboam prais'd,
Or great Micipsa's ebon-tinted son,
Or Caledonian witch, or monster vile,
On pillory uprais'd at Charing Cross;
Or death-devoted cat, or cur insane,
Have been so stick or pebble smote as me!
Last year my cousin-german Ginger fell,
And then my uncle Shagbag hapless bled,
Who valued high and oft his antique blood,
As lineally descended from that bird,
That caution'd wayward Peter of his grief!
Oh he was (every inch) a cock of cocks!
My brother Bantam too, who dauntless stood,
Fetter'd, like old Caractacus, and scoff'd,
Was struck upon the pegs, and bit the dust:
Men hate all saucy losels but themselves!
When the huge flood wash'd baseness from the globe,
Pyrrha and Pyrrha's Co, by Themis taught,
Cast rocky remnants to renew mankind;
Yet tho' the flinty seedlings melted round
And amplified progressive to adults,
Some portion indurate remain'd unmov'd,
To constitute that lump they call—a heart!
Pyrrha and Pyrrha's Co, by Themis taught,
Cast rocky remnants to renew mankind;
Yet tho' the flinty seedlings melted round
And amplified progressive to adults,
Some portion indurate remain'd unmov'd,
To constitute that lump they call—a heart!
Had cocks a Tacitus to mark their deeds,
A Gibbon, Robertson, or Dan Defoe,
How would Rome's Cæsars shrink before our sons!
Did brown Mendoza, Xerxes, or Big Ben,
Prussia's late chief, Tom Johnson or Turen ne,
Paul Jones or perriwig-encumber'd Shovel,
Cornwallis or the city's bloodless bands,
Equal our feats in honorable arms?
When we assume the spatterdash and spur
Gaffled and clad in brightly burnish'd steel,
We rush like Maltese knights, to dare the foe,
And scorn to slumber but on Glory's bed:
Determine's the motto of our line.
A Gibbon, Robertson, or Dan Defoe,
8
Did brown Mendoza, Xerxes, or Big Ben,
Prussia's late chief, Tom Johnson or Turen ne,
Paul Jones or perriwig-encumber'd Shovel,
Cornwallis or the city's bloodless bands,
Equal our feats in honorable arms?
When we assume the spatterdash and spur
Gaffled and clad in brightly burnish'd steel,
We rush like Maltese knights, to dare the foe,
And scorn to slumber but on Glory's bed:
Determine's the motto of our line.
The adust sprig of Loyola laments,
With gaudy metaphor and turgid phrase;
Flurried pulsation and swoln streaming eyes
“The golden days of chivalry are o'er!!!”
If the coin-hunter means that Valor's fled,
The wriggling, retrograde Narrator lies;
But if (as tattling Rumor gives the clue)
He weeps that no such craz'd advent'rers strut,
(Bedrubb'd, bemir'd, bephilter'd Picaroons)
As Belianis, Amadis de Gaul,
Orlando, Quixote, Godfrey of Bologne,
Or the more sturdy Giant-killing Jack,
Who hauberk-clad, or hid 'neath plates of brass,
Would doze a month 'mid Caucasus' deep snows;
Tear alligators livers from their ribs,
Feast upon furze and drink Averno's scum,
Grinning, defy the equinoctial blast,
Defile, at noon, the guard room of Berlin,
Stew a young lamplighter and swill the soup,
Bully a Behemoth or twist the Poles,
Hang on the verge of Thule by the chin,
Swim in hot lava down Vesuvius' side,
Bootless and barefoot ford the Stygian flood,
Run his thick head against the hill of Howth,
Tear up the tree of knowledge by the roots,
Steal Rhadamanthus' caxon while asleep,
Draw Neptune's plug and liberate the Main,
Throw pungent snuff in Polyphemus' eye,
Shave grizly Dis, and move the Pyrenees,
Slit Juno's tongue—untie th'imprison'd winds,
Put an extraneous spoke in Ixion's wheel,
Teach gruffy Cerberus to dance pas russe,
Digest that flambeau which the Furies oil'd,
Cool Etna's bowels—urine 'gainst the moon,
Leap into hell, and wrestle with Despair,
All to amuse some poignant, lewd, young minx,
Who'd pay her rascal with—half smother'd scorn,
I think the omission dignifies our age;
Such deeds make piteous both heaven and earth.
With gaudy metaphor and turgid phrase;
Flurried pulsation and swoln streaming eyes
“The golden days of chivalry are o'er!!!”
If the coin-hunter means that Valor's fled,
The wriggling, retrograde Narrator lies;
But if (as tattling Rumor gives the clue)
He weeps that no such craz'd advent'rers strut,
(Bedrubb'd, bemir'd, bephilter'd Picaroons)
As Belianis, Amadis de Gaul,
Orlando, Quixote, Godfrey of Bologne,
Or the more sturdy Giant-killing Jack,
Who hauberk-clad, or hid 'neath plates of brass,
Would doze a month 'mid Caucasus' deep snows;
Tear alligators livers from their ribs,
Feast upon furze and drink Averno's scum,
Grinning, defy the equinoctial blast,
Defile, at noon, the guard room of Berlin,
Stew a young lamplighter and swill the soup,
Bully a Behemoth or twist the Poles,
Hang on the verge of Thule by the chin,
Swim in hot lava down Vesuvius' side,
Bootless and barefoot ford the Stygian flood,
Run his thick head against the hill of Howth,
Tear up the tree of knowledge by the roots,
Steal Rhadamanthus' caxon while asleep,
Draw Neptune's plug and liberate the Main,
Throw pungent snuff in Polyphemus' eye,
Shave grizly Dis, and move the Pyrenees,
Slit Juno's tongue—untie th'imprison'd winds,
Put an extraneous spoke in Ixion's wheel,
Teach gruffy Cerberus to dance pas russe,
Digest that flambeau which the Furies oil'd,
9
Leap into hell, and wrestle with Despair,
All to amuse some poignant, lewd, young minx,
Who'd pay her rascal with—half smother'd scorn,
I think the omission dignifies our age;
Such deeds make piteous both heaven and earth.
When shall I rest again the live-long day!
But cocks must never more a sabbath know:
Let me exist but where the halcyon flies,
I was not swaddled by a Lapland hag.
I'm no Backhuysen, amorous of storms.
Would my oviparous entre on this globe
Had happ'd upon the shelves of Nilus' stream,
Warm sands of Ganges or the Latian Po,
Th'Apulian torrent or the Danube fierce,
Median Hydaspes or the Adrian gulf,
The silver Tyber or Eurota's bank,
Infernal Acheron or Libya's plains,
Oblivion's dale that's cleans'd by Lethe's lake,
Or any soil but sick Britannia's land,
Where Liberty is mouth'd, but not rever'd.
O'er Pompey's head the lord of empires wept,
But here they laugh when Greatness gets a cuff,
And put the extinguisher on Merit's lamp.
But cocks must never more a sabbath know:
Let me exist but where the halcyon flies,
I was not swaddled by a Lapland hag.
I'm no Backhuysen, amorous of storms.
Would my oviparous entre on this globe
Had happ'd upon the shelves of Nilus' stream,
Warm sands of Ganges or the Latian Po,
Th'Apulian torrent or the Danube fierce,
Median Hydaspes or the Adrian gulf,
The silver Tyber or Eurota's bank,
Infernal Acheron or Libya's plains,
Oblivion's dale that's cleans'd by Lethe's lake,
Or any soil but sick Britannia's land,
Where Liberty is mouth'd, but not rever'd.
O'er Pompey's head the lord of empires wept,
But here they laugh when Greatness gets a cuff,
And put the extinguisher on Merit's lamp.
Oh! what a beast is ruthless, wretched man!
Of worth regardless, of opprobrium proud,
The western nations mock the Indian tribes,
And from ideal heights look down and sneer;
Yet, like that Indian, do those haughty realms,
(By frauds more gross than Phsapos or the Turk)
Array a wooden, vile, repulsive Log,
With tissued vestments from the Persian loom
Or Lyons, Genoa, or Spital-fields;
Ascribe it attributes it cannot know,
Make it the source of dignity and peace,
Then kneel in myriads round it's tinsel fane,
To deprecate the vengeance of—a clod!
Their points of adoration differ thus—
This is a deity, and that—a king.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Of worth regardless, of opprobrium proud,
The western nations mock the Indian tribes,
And from ideal heights look down and sneer;
Yet, like that Indian, do those haughty realms,
(By frauds more gross than Phsapos or the Turk)
Array a wooden, vile, repulsive Log,
With tissued vestments from the Persian loom
Or Lyons, Genoa, or Spital-fields;
Ascribe it attributes it cannot know,
Make it the source of dignity and peace,
Then kneel in myriads round it's tinsel fane,
To deprecate the vengeance of—a clod!
Their points of adoration differ thus—
This is a deity, and that—a king.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Say, shall the tatter'd million, Luna-led,
Tie us, like victims, to the stake of Death,
And we retain the dagger in its sheath?
Where Despots diadem'd and toga'd stride,
Humility becomes a social vice;
Ye peerless daughters of this sea-girt isle,
Who pant with ardor for the young and brave,
Why will ye suffer cocks to be destroy'd?
Shall I, who once was pitted 'gainst all Berks,
At rural tournament in ninety-one,
Be thus compell'd to pass great Nature's bourn
While yet my veins are fill'd with gen'rous blood,
And life's broad base by Pharmacy unstrung?
If mortals call this gusto, curse their taste;
This is a fete or festum, d---n their souls!
Oh! may their Lent be hard—their penance keen,
Their eggs all fœtid and their fish stale ling.
I'm mad as brute beneath the Syrian star!
My pulses boil with rage, I'm full of ire,
As George the Second when he kick'd his hat;
Or George the Third when meeting Billy Howe;
Or Lady Turner when they prate of caps;
Or Rolle when Reason spurns the pride of birth;
Or Taylor prick'd with a Whitechapel needle;
Or Bloxam when he finds his foolscap torn;
Or Milton's Woolwich-educated Gods,
Who drew their brazen-mouth'd artillery
And heavy baggage thro' condensing clouds,
To choak hell's Regent with salt-petre pills,
Making Omnipotence a mere Burgoyne
Sweating to stab the dragoons of the De'el!
Thus the blind bard burlesqu'd a lofty theme,
Laughably high, and most sublimely low.
Tie us, like victims, to the stake of Death,
And we retain the dagger in its sheath?
Where Despots diadem'd and toga'd stride,
10
Ye peerless daughters of this sea-girt isle,
Who pant with ardor for the young and brave,
Why will ye suffer cocks to be destroy'd?
Shall I, who once was pitted 'gainst all Berks,
At rural tournament in ninety-one,
Be thus compell'd to pass great Nature's bourn
While yet my veins are fill'd with gen'rous blood,
And life's broad base by Pharmacy unstrung?
If mortals call this gusto, curse their taste;
This is a fete or festum, d---n their souls!
Oh! may their Lent be hard—their penance keen,
Their eggs all fœtid and their fish stale ling.
I'm mad as brute beneath the Syrian star!
My pulses boil with rage, I'm full of ire,
As George the Second when he kick'd his hat;
Or George the Third when meeting Billy Howe;
Or Lady Turner when they prate of caps;
Or Rolle when Reason spurns the pride of birth;
Or Taylor prick'd with a Whitechapel needle;
Or Bloxam when he finds his foolscap torn;
Or Milton's Woolwich-educated Gods,
Who drew their brazen-mouth'd artillery
And heavy baggage thro' condensing clouds,
To choak hell's Regent with salt-petre pills,
Making Omnipotence a mere Burgoyne
Sweating to stab the dragoons of the De'el!
Thus the blind bard burlesqu'd a lofty theme,
Laughably high, and most sublimely low.
Were I ignivomous, I'd watch the Lown,
Blow at his breech, and burn his galligaskins;
I cannot now resist the rage of Chance,
With correspondent fortitude and faith!
(Save the domestic lovliness around)
Bankrupt in zeal, in fortune, and in friends;
Tho' I am unemaciate and erect,
The mind has been too mighty for the man:
Each nerve's been woe-tugg'd till it even crack'd;
Hope's animating lamp, which late illum'd
Th'interior of this tenement of clay,
Now thirsting for the philosophic oil.
Scarce feeds a flame that hesitates to live.
When red Malevolence assails the life,
Relative horrors half excuse the blow:
Tho' Nature her creative pencil dipt
In all those fascinating gaudy hues,
Which deck the luminous gay arch of Heav'n,
Bright rosy fillets and purpureal glow,
Silv'ry semicircles wove in gold!
Sapphire-ting'd ether and rich crimson dye!
To beautify Lucina's pageant bird;
Yet will the stern Helvetii extirpate
Th'embellish'd inmate from their rugged hills,
Because a vestige of its train o'ertops
Th'armorial bearings of their antient foe.
Blow at his breech, and burn his galligaskins;
I cannot now resist the rage of Chance,
With correspondent fortitude and faith!
(Save the domestic lovliness around)
Bankrupt in zeal, in fortune, and in friends;
Tho' I am unemaciate and erect,
The mind has been too mighty for the man:
Each nerve's been woe-tugg'd till it even crack'd;
Hope's animating lamp, which late illum'd
Th'interior of this tenement of clay,
Now thirsting for the philosophic oil.
Scarce feeds a flame that hesitates to live.
When red Malevolence assails the life,
Relative horrors half excuse the blow:
11
In all those fascinating gaudy hues,
Which deck the luminous gay arch of Heav'n,
Bright rosy fillets and purpureal glow,
Silv'ry semicircles wove in gold!
Sapphire-ting'd ether and rich crimson dye!
To beautify Lucina's pageant bird;
Yet will the stern Helvetii extirpate
Th'embellish'd inmate from their rugged hills,
Because a vestige of its train o'ertops
Th'armorial bearings of their antient foe.
When injuries have gor'd a well-wrought soul,
'Tis urg'd we should forgive and then forget!
When Priestley fats in Diocesan chair,
When Genius, Wit and Virtue are ador'd,
When Pitt shall kiss the Muses on their hill,
When Lady Grosv'nor curtsies to the creed,
When Gunning's sportive, who is all for-Lorn,
When Strathmore's Countess martyrs all her cats,
When Banks prefers Philosophers to flies,
When Tippoo makes the decalogue his law,
When Providence gives Q. his second sight,
When Gloster's Duchess names her Grandmama,
When regal finger purifies the blood,
When Sandwich writhes at tales of defloration,
When Cambria's Prince and meanness are allied,
When Israel's dingy produce hallow pigs,
When Lonsdale's lord becomes a man of wax,
When Dysart gives his mutton to the poor,
When Drapers' yards exceed the scale an inch,
When Burke and Freedom eat with the same spoon,
Then from the iron tablet of my mind,
Will I efface my catalogue of wrongs.
'Tis urg'd we should forgive and then forget!
When Priestley fats in Diocesan chair,
When Genius, Wit and Virtue are ador'd,
When Pitt shall kiss the Muses on their hill,
When Lady Grosv'nor curtsies to the creed,
When Gunning's sportive, who is all for-Lorn,
When Strathmore's Countess martyrs all her cats,
When Banks prefers Philosophers to flies,
When Tippoo makes the decalogue his law,
When Providence gives Q. his second sight,
When Gloster's Duchess names her Grandmama,
When regal finger purifies the blood,
When Sandwich writhes at tales of defloration,
When Cambria's Prince and meanness are allied,
When Israel's dingy produce hallow pigs,
When Lonsdale's lord becomes a man of wax,
When Dysart gives his mutton to the poor,
When Drapers' yards exceed the scale an inch,
When Burke and Freedom eat with the same spoon,
Then from the iron tablet of my mind,
Will I efface my catalogue of wrongs.
Oh! my big torments shake my fragile state,
Thought wars with thought, and all my soul's in arms:
Bear me ye Deities from mortal ken,
Hide me in old Medea's brazen pot,
Or plunge me smoaking in the Carian font;
That I may lose virility and dread.
Thought wars with thought, and all my soul's in arms:
Bear me ye Deities from mortal ken,
Hide me in old Medea's brazen pot,
Or plunge me smoaking in the Carian font;
That I may lose virility and dread.
Pitiless man—illustrious reptile go,
Immolate Purity and glad the fiend:
Glut Hecate with the ashes of Desert,
Glory in guilt—be recogniz'd by Shame:
Range in battalia, flank'd with hounds and horn,
Obedient Infamy and gladd'ning slaves;
To chace a timid, weak, innoxious hare,
And if you murder not, moan we've no sport!
When our first Harries rul'd this daring realm,
Your fathers slew the savage in his den,
Ye have the appetite but not the heart.
Of all th'incumbrances this planet feels,
Man's the worst animal that breathes the air:
The Sauromatæ gorge not more in blood,
Or tawny Lions when they crunch a fawn.
Immolate Purity and glad the fiend:
Glut Hecate with the ashes of Desert,
Glory in guilt—be recogniz'd by Shame:
Range in battalia, flank'd with hounds and horn,
12
To chace a timid, weak, innoxious hare,
And if you murder not, moan we've no sport!
When our first Harries rul'd this daring realm,
Your fathers slew the savage in his den,
Ye have the appetite but not the heart.
Of all th'incumbrances this planet feels,
Man's the worst animal that breathes the air:
The Sauromatæ gorge not more in blood,
Or tawny Lions when they crunch a fawn.
Pallid Antipathy (gaunt Envy's cub)
Has pierc'd my scull with her unnumber'd darts:
'Tis said I'am arrogant, should that amaze,
Who've revell'd thro' the Cytherean grove?
The youth of Lesbos or Diana's hind,
The son of Myrrha or the Trojan boy
Have not been more uprais'd by Beauty's sigh!
But love's the regal business of our voyage,
It fills up all those crannies of the mind
Where minor Passions could not build a home:
Seraphic, necromantic woman, hail!
Origin, sustenance, and end of joy!
Tell me, sweet Featherinda, darling girl,
Has from your sieve-like recollection fled
That circumstance, when first I woo'd and won
Your will to conjugate in Ceres' cot,
And tempted Virtue with Siberian corn?
While touch'd by Extacy we madd'ning lay,
With raging, rav'nous energy fatigu'd,
Th'Idalian urchin and his fubby crew,
Guarded the passes of the blest retreat,
Circling its precincts; odoriferous bloom'd
The modest Violet and Cowslip sweet,
Dew-wash'd Primroses and Carnations gay,
And round a Cedar's fragrant trunk uprear'd,
Plants of high import or in scent or taste!
Mango, Banana, Jaca and Batan,
Cocoa, Mangostan, Calamus and Clove;
And as I led you from th'indented couch,
(With eyes contemplative and head reclin'd)
The gay, voluptuous, tittering infants ran
To pluck obtruding briars from our path;
(For even Love's recess is briar-fraught)
Lest some keen thorn should wound your tender feet!
But since, how you've transfix'd me with caprice,
You wou'd, you woud'nt—yes, then no; and thus,
Goading me hapless to the arms of Hare!
Ah me! ye Ladies, know your power too well,
To hold your vot'ries in Coercion's net;
Lead them thro' Ruin's foul morass elate,
And laugh triumphant at their ups and downs,
As filthified they flounder to Remorse;
There live, who will assert with blushless front,
Ye seek Hypocrisy from Morn 'till Eve,
Have Lamb-like lineaments with wolfish aims,
Hail blushing youth, yet those ye hail despise,
Affect (delusive Shame when most you're pleas'd)
To know what's not, yet what you know deny:
Giggle at Jove, his bolt and red right arm,
Then cast your fortunes at—an ideot's feet!
But such no more can marshall my belief,
Than wild Cassandra or the Sybils' hymn.
Has pierc'd my scull with her unnumber'd darts:
'Tis said I'am arrogant, should that amaze,
Who've revell'd thro' the Cytherean grove?
The youth of Lesbos or Diana's hind,
The son of Myrrha or the Trojan boy
Have not been more uprais'd by Beauty's sigh!
But love's the regal business of our voyage,
It fills up all those crannies of the mind
Where minor Passions could not build a home:
Seraphic, necromantic woman, hail!
Origin, sustenance, and end of joy!
Tell me, sweet Featherinda, darling girl,
Has from your sieve-like recollection fled
That circumstance, when first I woo'd and won
Your will to conjugate in Ceres' cot,
And tempted Virtue with Siberian corn?
While touch'd by Extacy we madd'ning lay,
With raging, rav'nous energy fatigu'd,
Th'Idalian urchin and his fubby crew,
Guarded the passes of the blest retreat,
Circling its precincts; odoriferous bloom'd
The modest Violet and Cowslip sweet,
Dew-wash'd Primroses and Carnations gay,
And round a Cedar's fragrant trunk uprear'd,
Plants of high import or in scent or taste!
Mango, Banana, Jaca and Batan,
Cocoa, Mangostan, Calamus and Clove;
And as I led you from th'indented couch,
(With eyes contemplative and head reclin'd)
The gay, voluptuous, tittering infants ran
To pluck obtruding briars from our path;
(For even Love's recess is briar-fraught)
Lest some keen thorn should wound your tender feet!
13
You wou'd, you woud'nt—yes, then no; and thus,
Goading me hapless to the arms of Hare!
Ah me! ye Ladies, know your power too well,
To hold your vot'ries in Coercion's net;
Lead them thro' Ruin's foul morass elate,
And laugh triumphant at their ups and downs,
As filthified they flounder to Remorse;
There live, who will assert with blushless front,
Ye seek Hypocrisy from Morn 'till Eve,
Have Lamb-like lineaments with wolfish aims,
Hail blushing youth, yet those ye hail despise,
Affect (delusive Shame when most you're pleas'd)
To know what's not, yet what you know deny:
Giggle at Jove, his bolt and red right arm,
Then cast your fortunes at—an ideot's feet!
But such no more can marshall my belief,
Than wild Cassandra or the Sybils' hymn.
Would ye, my boys, be favor'd by the fair,
Be gentle in your argument and deed:
When Puberty had strung the leading nerve,
I twin'd the sacred Myrtle round my brow:
Studied th'Ovidian irresistless wile,
Sued, like Propertius, to the haughty nymph.
Gradual sapp'd her firmest, best resolves,
And made success the consequence of toil!
I would not grasp the Spartan Belle by force,
I loath th'anatomy without the mind.
Women, like Caryatides, are chiefly form'd,
As adjectives, to please the sight and bear.—
Be gentle in your argument and deed:
When Puberty had strung the leading nerve,
I twin'd the sacred Myrtle round my brow:
Studied th'Ovidian irresistless wile,
Sued, like Propertius, to the haughty nymph.
Gradual sapp'd her firmest, best resolves,
And made success the consequence of toil!
I would not grasp the Spartan Belle by force,
I loath th'anatomy without the mind.
Women, like Caryatides, are chiefly form'd,
As adjectives, to please the sight and bear.—
Has any sign of ominous portent
Redden'd the skies, or scar'd the sons of men?
Have vultures scream'd or cemeteries yawn'd,
The Earth been palsied or old Ocean mad,
Have comets with immeasurable tails
Hurried thro' space, and scorch'd the arctick pole?
For I am tremulous and ill at ease!
Before the dread of dissolution came,
Hope's roseate Minions play'd about my heart:
Content I drew on Imagery's bank,
And even seiz'd felicities unborn!
My expectation then was as immense
As Charlotte Bertie's hymeneal thought,
The widow's wish, or Hood the Baron's nose,
The Allegany mount or Love's domain,
The Zephyr's circuit or th'Atlantic wave;
But now, by Apprehension squeez'd and crampt,
I steal, like sots, inglorious to the tomb!
Ere cold dismay usurp'd my better part,
I felt as pleas'd as Wedgwood in—his cups!
Or noble Osborne when he'd wedded—Anguish!
Or gallant Clarence when he got—a Jordan?
Or Yankee when he saw his nation—striped!
Or Barbauld when he boasts his rib was—Aikin!
Or Hurd when Presbyters had lost—their Price!
Or Rymer when his father breath'd—his last!
Or Godfrey Webster when he'd got—a vassal!
Or Brown when he turn'd water into—sheets!
Or Baddeley when cramm'd with—sour crout!
Or Bearcroft when he brings—his reasons home!
Or Johnny Wilkes perusing—Aretine!
Or Courtney when Nat Wraxall lost—his speech!
Or demi-Prelates when they say—I wont!
Or Albion's Nettle when he'd sav'd—three crowns!
Or Philip Hayes when he is—beating Time!
Or sombrous Greville when he kills—an hour!
Or Montague when—feathering her nest!
Or eager Ducie when he got—A Child!
Redden'd the skies, or scar'd the sons of men?
Have vultures scream'd or cemeteries yawn'd,
The Earth been palsied or old Ocean mad,
Have comets with immeasurable tails
Hurried thro' space, and scorch'd the arctick pole?
For I am tremulous and ill at ease!
Before the dread of dissolution came,
Hope's roseate Minions play'd about my heart:
Content I drew on Imagery's bank,
And even seiz'd felicities unborn!
My expectation then was as immense
As Charlotte Bertie's hymeneal thought,
The widow's wish, or Hood the Baron's nose,
14
The Zephyr's circuit or th'Atlantic wave;
But now, by Apprehension squeez'd and crampt,
I steal, like sots, inglorious to the tomb!
Ere cold dismay usurp'd my better part,
I felt as pleas'd as Wedgwood in—his cups!
Or noble Osborne when he'd wedded—Anguish!
Or gallant Clarence when he got—a Jordan?
Or Yankee when he saw his nation—striped!
Or Barbauld when he boasts his rib was—Aikin!
Or Hurd when Presbyters had lost—their Price!
Or Rymer when his father breath'd—his last!
Or Godfrey Webster when he'd got—a vassal!
Or Brown when he turn'd water into—sheets!
Or Baddeley when cramm'd with—sour crout!
Or Bearcroft when he brings—his reasons home!
Or Johnny Wilkes perusing—Aretine!
Or Courtney when Nat Wraxall lost—his speech!
Or demi-Prelates when they say—I wont!
Or Albion's Nettle when he'd sav'd—three crowns!
Or Philip Hayes when he is—beating Time!
Or sombrous Greville when he kills—an hour!
Or Montague when—feathering her nest!
Or eager Ducie when he got—A Child!
Your Sophs and Seers, and Magi of the land,
Who oft unclasp the pocket-book of Fate,
And calculate the bliss and bane of men:
Depict the scite of each celestial house,
Know when Favonius will kindly breathe,
Or snarling Eurus from his shrivell'd wing,
Shake a black, morbid mildew o'er the grain;
Or when the Siroc gale will parch the bud,
And cinder-burn the tendril on the stalk:
Or dreary Wizards issue in a steam
(Drawn from pestiferous and aguing bogs)
To hold their congress in a pitchy mist,
Suck roaring Whirlwinds from th'Eolian bag
To crush a navy 'neath the billow's foam.
Such weigh events as Grocers weigh their figs,
And swear we're all predestin'd or predamn'd:
Maintain we're born beneath impelling stars,
Or splendid belt that girds the milky way!
For instance, 'tis on record in their scroll,
The upright Host of Hatfield saw the light
Beneath the influence of Sagittarius!
Mun Burke the crab!—Ned Thurlowe the great Bear!
Francis the scorpion!—Kenyon the scales!
Doctor Cadogan sub Aquarius!
Horne Tooke, Orion!—Rose and Steele the Twins!
Henry Dundas the twinkler of the North!
Mellifluous Pitt beneath the milky way!
And docile Hawksb'ry the Georgium sidus!
Great Richmond, Pisces! there the wi'e mistake,
He's an odd fish, and that could never be.
Derby the Ram! and Queensbury the Goat!
Rawdon the Lion! and Charles Fox the Virgin!
But that must be a sib, as Fate nor Force
Could never keep black Charles beneath a maid.
For my part, no bright Star can govern me,
But the rich lustre of a Lady's eye:
Who oft unclasp the pocket-book of Fate,
And calculate the bliss and bane of men:
Depict the scite of each celestial house,
Know when Favonius will kindly breathe,
Or snarling Eurus from his shrivell'd wing,
Shake a black, morbid mildew o'er the grain;
Or when the Siroc gale will parch the bud,
And cinder-burn the tendril on the stalk:
Or dreary Wizards issue in a steam
(Drawn from pestiferous and aguing bogs)
To hold their congress in a pitchy mist,
Suck roaring Whirlwinds from th'Eolian bag
To crush a navy 'neath the billow's foam.
Such weigh events as Grocers weigh their figs,
And swear we're all predestin'd or predamn'd:
Maintain we're born beneath impelling stars,
Or splendid belt that girds the milky way!
For instance, 'tis on record in their scroll,
The upright Host of Hatfield saw the light
15
Mun Burke the crab!—Ned Thurlowe the great Bear!
Francis the scorpion!—Kenyon the scales!
Doctor Cadogan sub Aquarius!
Horne Tooke, Orion!—Rose and Steele the Twins!
Henry Dundas the twinkler of the North!
Mellifluous Pitt beneath the milky way!
And docile Hawksb'ry the Georgium sidus!
Great Richmond, Pisces! there the wi'e mistake,
He's an odd fish, and that could never be.
Derby the Ram! and Queensbury the Goat!
Rawdon the Lion! and Charles Fox the Virgin!
But that must be a sib, as Fate nor Force
Could never keep black Charles beneath a maid.
For my part, no bright Star can govern me,
But the rich lustre of a Lady's eye:
Hither ye Bacchants from your sylvan dells,
(If ye condole with spirits in distress)
Laden with clusters of th'Iberian vine;
I'll fill the ample goblet to the brim,
Incontinently gulph th'extatic draught,
Then stain me with the glossy, gushing grape.
T'exorcise with the livery of joy:
But India's victor'll satarise my throbs,
I'm woe-begone, and he loves jolly Cocks!
(If ye condole with spirits in distress)
Laden with clusters of th'Iberian vine;
I'll fill the ample goblet to the brim,
Incontinently gulph th'extatic draught,
Then stain me with the glossy, gushing grape.
T'exorcise with the livery of joy:
But India's victor'll satarise my throbs,
I'm woe-begone, and he loves jolly Cocks!
Tho' Death's bald frontispiece to me's so grim,
As chills my vital juice, like melted snow,
There are, that lynx Calamity has smote,
Would rush immediate on his ebon spear.
Then who'll presume to fix th'unerring point
While animated Nature seek extremes?
Virtue and Vice change state at either Ind,
And what egregious here, there Sapience hugs;
Here Widows ogle while their fool's inurn'd,
At Malabar the relict sobs and burns!
The gem-eyed Eagle quits his natal rock;
Ascending perpendicular and fierce
He cleaves the hostile currents of the air;
Darts 'bove the subtle atmospheric bourn,
Beating each feeble Breeze to bear him up
Beyond the vast dominion of their Lord,
Where Rarefaction starves the gasping Lungs,
To meet the Sun in his meridian pride:
And pinion sing'd disport amid the blaze!
As the lone Owl retreating from the glare,
Nestles within the battlement's recess,
Where Horror triumphs in th'impervious gloom;
There couchant pants behind the ivy fence,
(Whose texture's thicken'd by the reptiles web)
And winks and dreads th'intolerance of day.
Oh Meditation cease—cold nymph avaunt;
Suggest no more to burst my lab'ring brain;
Lest Frenzy tread upon the heel of Thought!
Go wander to the Academic grove
And give the moral to Athenian lugs.
As chills my vital juice, like melted snow,
There are, that lynx Calamity has smote,
Would rush immediate on his ebon spear.
Then who'll presume to fix th'unerring point
While animated Nature seek extremes?
Virtue and Vice change state at either Ind,
And what egregious here, there Sapience hugs;
Here Widows ogle while their fool's inurn'd,
At Malabar the relict sobs and burns!
The gem-eyed Eagle quits his natal rock;
Ascending perpendicular and fierce
He cleaves the hostile currents of the air;
Darts 'bove the subtle atmospheric bourn,
Beating each feeble Breeze to bear him up
Beyond the vast dominion of their Lord,
Where Rarefaction starves the gasping Lungs,
To meet the Sun in his meridian pride:
And pinion sing'd disport amid the blaze!
16
Nestles within the battlement's recess,
Where Horror triumphs in th'impervious gloom;
There couchant pants behind the ivy fence,
(Whose texture's thicken'd by the reptiles web)
And winks and dreads th'intolerance of day.
Oh Meditation cease—cold nymph avaunt;
Suggest no more to burst my lab'ring brain;
Lest Frenzy tread upon the heel of Thought!
Go wander to the Academic grove
And give the moral to Athenian lugs.
What unappropriate note is that I hear?
The voice of Gladness mocks a peoples pain!
Thrice blest Inanity—Folly all hail!
That thus upon the threshold of the damn'd.
Can make a jig the overture to Death!
Tell the young Squire, proud perch'd upon the rails
Of yonder straw-yard, to be less superb;
He crows in alt his cock-a-doodle-doo.
Blythe as the heir apparent to that sheaf,
Which erst was bruis'd to make a Monarch's eate;
With less fierté does the great Mogul
Inform the distant climes he's ate his broth!
Oh shun, my boy, the beacon of Excess,
Nor everstep in aught, the golden mean,
As where that bloated Sorceress presides,
High Magnanimity will never dwell!
Perception wounds her with an icy smile,
That cuts ineffably from stem to stern;
The fang of Ridicule's more keen than Scorn.
Thou callow Babbler know, this gusty day,
Destruction arm'd with pebbles rough and round
And eke with varied bludgeons short and long,
Will range at large to flagellate our kind!
I saw the caitiff in an irksome dream,
(Dreams are interpreters 'tween God and us)
And trembled when he met my mental eye,
Like fraudful Hucksters when their weights are tried!
Or Harriet Vernon when she sees a man!
Or Spaniels when they're screwing out a jakes!
Or aspin leaves when rude tornadoes rage!
Or Miller pumping up his maiden speech;
Or common-council men before the King.
Or Mawbey when he reads the Hebrew laws;
Or Cardigan upon his marriage morn!
Or—but comparisons are odious deem'd,
The well bred such vulgarities forego.
The voice of Gladness mocks a peoples pain!
Thrice blest Inanity—Folly all hail!
That thus upon the threshold of the damn'd.
Can make a jig the overture to Death!
Tell the young Squire, proud perch'd upon the rails
Of yonder straw-yard, to be less superb;
He crows in alt his cock-a-doodle-doo.
Blythe as the heir apparent to that sheaf,
Which erst was bruis'd to make a Monarch's eate;
With less fierté does the great Mogul
Inform the distant climes he's ate his broth!
Oh shun, my boy, the beacon of Excess,
Nor everstep in aught, the golden mean,
As where that bloated Sorceress presides,
High Magnanimity will never dwell!
Perception wounds her with an icy smile,
That cuts ineffably from stem to stern;
The fang of Ridicule's more keen than Scorn.
Thou callow Babbler know, this gusty day,
Destruction arm'd with pebbles rough and round
And eke with varied bludgeons short and long,
Will range at large to flagellate our kind!
I saw the caitiff in an irksome dream,
(Dreams are interpreters 'tween God and us)
And trembled when he met my mental eye,
Like fraudful Hucksters when their weights are tried!
Or Harriet Vernon when she sees a man!
Or Spaniels when they're screwing out a jakes!
Or aspin leaves when rude tornadoes rage!
Or Miller pumping up his maiden speech;
Or common-council men before the King.
Or Mawbey when he reads the Hebrew laws;
17
Or—but comparisons are odious deem'd,
The well bred such vulgarities forego.
PARENTAL DIDACTICS.
THE crooked Phrygian an apt tale has told,
(And I'm notoriously attach'd to tales),
How a decrepid, hairless pated Dad
Call'd his high-mettled younglings 'bout his bed:
Delineated all the arts of Life
And made them scavoir vivres ere he died.
Thus did the Sire, and even thus will I:
Come ye Ingrates, ye feeble, fluttering tribe,
Knit in a feather'd conclave and receive
At once my valediction and my wit.
(And I'm notoriously attach'd to tales),
How a decrepid, hairless pated Dad
Call'd his high-mettled younglings 'bout his bed:
Delineated all the arts of Life
And made them scavoir vivres ere he died.
Thus did the Sire, and even thus will I:
Come ye Ingrates, ye feeble, fluttering tribe,
Knit in a feather'd conclave and receive
At once my valediction and my wit.
To live with comfort, ye must live with care,
Humanity's adulterate, false and foul;
In all the conflicts of vicissitude
Lose not your equanimity of mind:
(Who argues vehement resigns his shield)
Nor pain nor passion can impel the wise
To wound that honor which they owe—themselves!
When the horizon in the west is dimm'd,
When Phæton's beamy father silent sinks
And gradual draws his crimson mantle down,
Leaving the mountains robeless and forlorn:
When Cynthia steals on Contemplation's eye,
Tipping with silver the perturbed wave;
When the blue Hemisphere is studded o'er
With planetary gems and sparkling stars,
And Flora bids her motley drooping race
Expand their foliage and receive the dew:
And ye, obedient to the curfew's knell
Retire, in groups, to renovate and roost:
Be retrospective on the Hours consum'd
And let a sense of mercy make ye meek:
Humility's the origin of Peace;
Peace to the thought's like Onus to the plant,
Diffusing vigor, beauty, grace, and worth:
When the worn understanding lacks her aid,
How less than nothing is the local badge,
The azure ribbon or the rubric sash,
Or that fam'd magic girdle Britain's chiefs
Solicit to indent the firm-wrought knee:
Where Peace is not, such gew-gaws are but vain!
Humanity's adulterate, false and foul;
In all the conflicts of vicissitude
Lose not your equanimity of mind:
(Who argues vehement resigns his shield)
Nor pain nor passion can impel the wise
To wound that honor which they owe—themselves!
When the horizon in the west is dimm'd,
When Phæton's beamy father silent sinks
And gradual draws his crimson mantle down,
Leaving the mountains robeless and forlorn:
When Cynthia steals on Contemplation's eye,
Tipping with silver the perturbed wave;
When the blue Hemisphere is studded o'er
With planetary gems and sparkling stars,
And Flora bids her motley drooping race
Expand their foliage and receive the dew:
And ye, obedient to the curfew's knell
Retire, in groups, to renovate and roost:
Be retrospective on the Hours consum'd
And let a sense of mercy make ye meek:
Humility's the origin of Peace;
Peace to the thought's like Onus to the plant,
Diffusing vigor, beauty, grace, and worth:
When the worn understanding lacks her aid,
18
The azure ribbon or the rubric sash,
Or that fam'd magic girdle Britain's chiefs
Solicit to indent the firm-wrought knee:
Where Peace is not, such gew-gaws are but vain!
Was the unmeasur'd ring of Knowledge mine,
Could I indite like Locke, or think like Kaimes:
I'd pour a flood of Science in your ears,
Should make ye reverenc'd by each sapient knot,
That arrogates prescriptive privilege!
The Sorbonne, or La Crusca, or Arcades,
The Parses, Scheics, Verbiests and Copts
Pandects and Bramins, Molhas and Cantabs,
Casy and Sedre, Maronite and Monk,
Peripatetic, Arian and Soph,
Stoici and far fam'd Dilettanti,
And that high royal corps snug and sublime,
Who muz majestic in the court ycleped Crane:
But a-propos—of them I've heard a tale;
Hear it, and judge how Wisdom may be foil'd.
Could I indite like Locke, or think like Kaimes:
I'd pour a flood of Science in your ears,
Should make ye reverenc'd by each sapient knot,
That arrogates prescriptive privilege!
The Sorbonne, or La Crusca, or Arcades,
The Parses, Scheics, Verbiests and Copts
Pandects and Bramins, Molhas and Cantabs,
Casy and Sedre, Maronite and Monk,
Peripatetic, Arian and Soph,
Stoici and far fam'd Dilettanti,
And that high royal corps snug and sublime,
Who muz majestic in the court ycleped Crane:
But a-propos—of them I've heard a tale;
Hear it, and judge how Wisdom may be foil'd.
BEANS AND BACON.
AN ILLUSTRATION.
WHEN Joe Soho was in the massy chair,All-gorgeous carv'd, and rais'd above his peers,
He ask'd a question, made his brethren stare,
Pulling his side curls down to hide—his ears!
As we've arrang'd complete both grubs and greens,
Pray in what genus shall we class our beans?
“How class our beans! cried Fungus, let me see,
“How class our beans! roar'd Horace (vis a vis)
“How class our beans!” went individual round,
And all seem'd lost in reveries profound!
Silence assum'd the absolute command,
Each head lean'd pond'rous on its kindred hand;
No band of nincompoops were e'er so pos'd,
And some o'er-wrung by study, dreamt and doz'd;
Chagrin'd, discomfited, perplex'd and pang'd
Each sober judgment by its fancy bang'd:
Some look'd towards the ceiling some—the floor,
The wisest doubted, and the wicked swore!
19
And Ignorance hoodwink'd every F. R. S.
'Till an old woman (who at their desire
Was wont to empt the pot and stir the fire)
Ended the matter, as Bystanders ought,
And sav'd their brains from being pierc'd by Thought,
“Your Honors sure (quo' she) can't be mistaken,
“I always class my beans with bacon!
[Walk nine times round a wight, with cat-like leer]
Walk nine times round a wight, with cat-like leer,
Maugre his semblance, drapery or phrase;
Ere you admit the animal your Co:
Much good or ill celebrity or shame
Hangs on the close associate of your youth:
Tho' genius is not subject to the will,
Our spungy faculties imbibe a grace,
And catch those properties we oft behold!
Taste, we attach from Observation's nod,
And Truth is made subervient to Esteem:
Great P. P. Rubens pencill'd angels squab,
Because his rancid Helena was huge!
Holbein design'd them lumpish, short and square,
Because his bungy, Belgic drab was squat!
Rembrandt drew Venus with a phiz imbrown'd,
Because his shrew would seldom lave her cheek!
And Joshua Reynolds pourtray'd every dame
With charmful symmetry, (no matter who)
As Sarah Bunbury'd improv'd his sense.
Maugre his semblance, drapery or phrase;
Ere you admit the animal your Co:
Much good or ill celebrity or shame
Hangs on the close associate of your youth:
Tho' genius is not subject to the will,
Our spungy faculties imbibe a grace,
And catch those properties we oft behold!
Taste, we attach from Observation's nod,
And Truth is made subervient to Esteem:
Great P. P. Rubens pencill'd angels squab,
Because his rancid Helena was huge!
Holbein design'd them lumpish, short and square,
Because his bungy, Belgic drab was squat!
Rembrandt drew Venus with a phiz imbrown'd,
Because his shrew would seldom lave her cheek!
And Joshua Reynolds pourtray'd every dame
With charmful symmetry, (no matter who)
As Sarah Bunbury'd improv'd his sense.
When Death shall pinch the vitals of your Sire,
I charge ye, by the love ye bear our house,
All to eschew the metaphysic squad:
Let Patience arm ye 'gainst the ills of life,
Merit, my children, cannot claim a boon;
Successive Dunces wear the governing robe,
Whose brains are so bemix'd with dregs and lead,
They'd scarce be buoyant on th'Armenian lake!
Talents, most eminent, all shivering lie,
Smote by the elements, unclad, unfed:
Such things there are, and yet the Gods look on!
When a Gymnosophist shall pass your gate,
Crow 'till you burst the knitting of your lungs,
Court them, as Persians supplicate the Sun;
They to Beneficence are doubly dear!
Be not embrazen'd by a luckless hint,
To think yourself superior to controul;
Beware the overweenings of self-love,
Nor under-rate an unencounter'd foe,
Lest in the sequel you should catch a Tartar.
I charge ye, by the love ye bear our house,
All to eschew the metaphysic squad:
Let Patience arm ye 'gainst the ills of life,
Merit, my children, cannot claim a boon;
Successive Dunces wear the governing robe,
Whose brains are so bemix'd with dregs and lead,
They'd scarce be buoyant on th'Armenian lake!
Talents, most eminent, all shivering lie,
Smote by the elements, unclad, unfed:
Such things there are, and yet the Gods look on!
When a Gymnosophist shall pass your gate,
Crow 'till you burst the knitting of your lungs,
Court them, as Persians supplicate the Sun;
20
Be not embrazen'd by a luckless hint,
To think yourself superior to controul;
Beware the overweenings of self-love,
Nor under-rate an unencounter'd foe,
Lest in the sequel you should catch a Tartar.
ORIGIN OF CATCHING A TARTAR.
AN ILLUSTRATION.
SOME centuries ago, the Austrian troopsWere often hack'd and harass'd
By warlike Tartars, who with yells and whoops
Their enemies embarrass'd;
At length the Emperor promis'd in a charter,
To be the donor
Both of wealth and honor,
To any hero who could catch a Tartar.
Two comely lads from blythe Ierne's shore,
Who'd often bath'd their limbs in Loch Killarney,
Amid the German troops their knapsacks bore,
Props of their race were Broderick and Blarney.
These volunteers had stray'd,
In search of plunder,
Thro' a Sclavonian wood;
But Fortune meant the Munster-men no good,
For Blarney heard his terrible comrade,
Roaring like thunder;
“Och Blarney, Blarney! by sweet Ireland's martyr,
“May I be keel hawl'd but I've cotch'd a Tartar!”
“Bring him along!” bawl'd Blarney, big with pride,
“Here's Ireland's boys against the globe, who'll bet me?”
“I can't said t'other!
“Then come yourself and drop your noisy pother.”
But Broderick in a lower note replied—
“By the Holy Father he won't let me.”
[From the high topmast of this nether world]
From the high topmast of this nether world
Look for Ingratitude, with keener eye
Than seamen for Charybdis in a gale,
And when she's evident, ah! shun her more
Than Bruce a map, or Scythian hordes a pest:
When Gluttony within this hamlet dwelt,
And Devastation cater'd for the beast:
Dame Waddle by the Matricide expir'd!
Touch'd by maternal care and old regards,
Your Mama scrap'd the brats into our nest,
(A cosey asylum for orphan eggs);
But mark and marvel at the sad event:—
When her broad, vivifying, downy rump
Had called the dormant Ducklings into life,
They broke from their testaceous slimy cells,
Plung'd in yon clammy, green, incrusted pool,
All infamously laving in disport,
Plashing uninjur'd like a puddled Ponk!
Unnoting their Emancipator's shriek!
Who quivering stood upon the osier'd brink,
Swelling the waters with a Matron's tear:
But Virtue, striplings, is it's own reward:
Fate (who can feel for Loveliness oppress'd)
Saw, as he pick'd his teeth, the Lady's wrong,
And growing colerick as Kate the Russ,
Quickly aveng'd your clay-cold Mother's cause:
He delegated from the unblanch'd lodge
The spirit of a brave ferocious Gaul;
Shap'd like D' Aubigny's aid de camp or cook,
Hued like mahogany, with heart of flint,
Cane, bag-wig, snuff-box, spectacles and cap,
And couteau somewhat smaller than a scythe:
In less than seven moons the courier came,
From the Galaxy in a chaise and four;
By the same rout that Iris us'd of old;
Then drew his kitchen scimetar or knife,
And rapidly abridg'd their proud career,
Cut their hoop'd throats, and hush'd th'emphatic Quack!
Dragg'd out their bowels—stuff'd 'em full of sage—
Scorch'd their white bones until the marrow fried—
Untruss'd their limbs, and bid the hunger'd eat.
Thus perish the Atrocious thro' the land,
Th'ungrateful are offensive to the Gods.
If you'd be beautiful, be innocent;
The roses never blow on Guilt's lank cheek!
Look for Ingratitude, with keener eye
21
And when she's evident, ah! shun her more
Than Bruce a map, or Scythian hordes a pest:
When Gluttony within this hamlet dwelt,
And Devastation cater'd for the beast:
Dame Waddle by the Matricide expir'd!
Touch'd by maternal care and old regards,
Your Mama scrap'd the brats into our nest,
(A cosey asylum for orphan eggs);
But mark and marvel at the sad event:—
When her broad, vivifying, downy rump
Had called the dormant Ducklings into life,
They broke from their testaceous slimy cells,
Plung'd in yon clammy, green, incrusted pool,
All infamously laving in disport,
Plashing uninjur'd like a puddled Ponk!
Unnoting their Emancipator's shriek!
Who quivering stood upon the osier'd brink,
Swelling the waters with a Matron's tear:
But Virtue, striplings, is it's own reward:
Fate (who can feel for Loveliness oppress'd)
Saw, as he pick'd his teeth, the Lady's wrong,
And growing colerick as Kate the Russ,
Quickly aveng'd your clay-cold Mother's cause:
He delegated from the unblanch'd lodge
The spirit of a brave ferocious Gaul;
Shap'd like D' Aubigny's aid de camp or cook,
Hued like mahogany, with heart of flint,
Cane, bag-wig, snuff-box, spectacles and cap,
And couteau somewhat smaller than a scythe:
In less than seven moons the courier came,
From the Galaxy in a chaise and four;
By the same rout that Iris us'd of old;
Then drew his kitchen scimetar or knife,
And rapidly abridg'd their proud career,
Cut their hoop'd throats, and hush'd th'emphatic Quack!
Dragg'd out their bowels—stuff'd 'em full of sage—
Scorch'd their white bones until the marrow fried—
Untruss'd their limbs, and bid the hunger'd eat.
Thus perish the Atrocious thro' the land,
Th'ungrateful are offensive to the Gods.
If you'd be beautiful, be innocent;
The roses never blow on Guilt's lank cheek!
Avoid potations deep of Barley juice,
Which whirl the Senses in a maddening round,
And poniard Apprehension's Lynx-like troop:
Such swinish appetites abase our state.
Dolts from maturing Autumn's vintage rend
The purple clusters with a savage zeal,
Suck the enerving beverage 'till they faint,
And Reason quits the passes of the mind!
When men are thus entangled by Excess,
Demons innumerous, victorious howl,
Circe's triumphant, and Silenus laughs.
22
And poniard Apprehension's Lynx-like troop:
Such swinish appetites abase our state.
Dolts from maturing Autumn's vintage rend
The purple clusters with a savage zeal,
Suck the enerving beverage 'till they faint,
And Reason quits the passes of the mind!
When men are thus entangled by Excess,
Demons innumerous, victorious howl,
Circe's triumphant, and Silenus laughs.
SYMPTOMS OF BEING TIPSY.
AN ILLUSTRATION.
WHEN Ideots rove on Danger's slippery brink,Who never survey, cogitate or think:
They break their shins, then wonder tho' they sought it,
And ope their mouths and mumble—Who'd have thought it?
Besotted Benjamin, one wint'ry night
Came to an Inn
Where Carpenters had been;
Making the crazy chairs and tables tight;
Those artists left a three-inch nail behind,
And luckless Ben sat pat on it,
Too drunk to note the pain, with vacant mind,
He rose in haste to compass his desire,
And stood Colossus-like, before the fire,
When an arch fellow tittering hung his hat on it.
[When ye are snar'd mid pertinacious Puts]
When ye are snar'd mid pertinacious Puts,
Pantoufled recusants that spit at youth;
Petulant Seniors, who complacent teize,
Chuckle and shake to grace a witless jest;
Then beg you'll pardon when they can't offend:
Who only rapt'rous dwell on what they've seen,
Denying Excellence that is, to be,
Pity their prodigality of taunt,
Let the small embers of their pride consume
Unwetted by the issue of Disdain;
Garrulity's the privilege of age.
Pantoufled recusants that spit at youth;
Petulant Seniors, who complacent teize,
Chuckle and shake to grace a witless jest;
Then beg you'll pardon when they can't offend:
Who only rapt'rous dwell on what they've seen,
Denying Excellence that is, to be,
23
Let the small embers of their pride consume
Unwetted by the issue of Disdain;
Garrulity's the privilege of age.
Believe, my Chicks, one third of what you hear,
And think, e'en then, 'tis possible you err;
'Tis said the liberal note that man as mean,
Who lets Suspicion her foul lodgment make
Within the chambers of his narrow breast,
There, with a scowling and half-open'd eye,
To sneer at Amity, and mar Esteem!
Yet he who in the zenith of his heart
Measures his inmates with a self-made scale,
To take the altitude of human aims,
Will find his rapid mensuration nought:
Aghast, unnerv'd, confounded and reduc'd,
Closing those avenues where Fraud approach'd,
He'll acrimonious scan all promis'd joy;
Take in those sails his Confidence unfurl'd,
Pine with the lazy poison of Chagrin,
And wax (too swiftly) prematurely old.
And think, e'en then, 'tis possible you err;
'Tis said the liberal note that man as mean,
Who lets Suspicion her foul lodgment make
Within the chambers of his narrow breast,
There, with a scowling and half-open'd eye,
To sneer at Amity, and mar Esteem!
Yet he who in the zenith of his heart
Measures his inmates with a self-made scale,
To take the altitude of human aims,
Will find his rapid mensuration nought:
Aghast, unnerv'd, confounded and reduc'd,
Closing those avenues where Fraud approach'd,
He'll acrimonious scan all promis'd joy;
Take in those sails his Confidence unfurl'd,
Pine with the lazy poison of Chagrin,
And wax (too swiftly) prematurely old.
The gust of violence I reprobate,
As there is no Propensity so fierce
(Ee'n tho' it flounder'd like the Theban snake,
Or champ'd and foam'd like Pluto's triple Swiss)
But what a mental lenient may allay,
Or mild Urbanity's silk rein coerce;
No wight (with mental sanity) e'er rav'd
Before the man he fear'd, or nymph he woo'd.
As there is no Propensity so fierce
(Ee'n tho' it flounder'd like the Theban snake,
Or champ'd and foam'd like Pluto's triple Swiss)
But what a mental lenient may allay,
Or mild Urbanity's silk rein coerce;
No wight (with mental sanity) e'er rav'd
Before the man he fear'd, or nymph he woo'd.
When, ('neath the abdomen of some black cloud,
That bellying hangs with indigested mists:
Or in the azure, pellucid expanse)
By Fear directed you espy a Hawk,
Cow'ring to reconnoitre and consume,
Gather the dab-chicks in a huddled heap,
And hide the trembling phalanx with your wing:
Hawks are to us what Lawyers are to men,
Calamitous attachments to our kind;
Too high to combat, and too fell to scorn:
Proud of advantages which Heaven allows,
Immunities peculiar to destroy,
They whet their crook'd carniv'rous beaks at will,
Then tear the groveling captive they've enfang'd:
To laceration antecedent, they
Curvet and gambol in th'ethereal space,
'Till Enmity or Whim shall give the clue:
Then with velocity they cut the air,
Pounce on the flutterers—ingulph the brood,
And reel inebriate with infant blood.
That bellying hangs with indigested mists:
Or in the azure, pellucid expanse)
By Fear directed you espy a Hawk,
Cow'ring to reconnoitre and consume,
Gather the dab-chicks in a huddled heap,
And hide the trembling phalanx with your wing:
Hawks are to us what Lawyers are to men,
Calamitous attachments to our kind;
Too high to combat, and too fell to scorn:
Proud of advantages which Heaven allows,
Immunities peculiar to destroy,
They whet their crook'd carniv'rous beaks at will,
Then tear the groveling captive they've enfang'd:
To laceration antecedent, they
24
'Till Enmity or Whim shall give the clue:
Then with velocity they cut the air,
Pounce on the flutterers—ingulph the brood,
And reel inebriate with infant blood.
Deal out contumely with dread and awe,
Nor make that ulcerous that's scarce unskinn'd:
Go stand between the object and the storm,
But blush to castigate a broken reed:
We've all our peccadilloes and our worth;
Obloquial arrows seldom whiz around,
But from that quiver Error hangs—behind!
Nor make that ulcerous that's scarce unskinn'd:
Go stand between the object and the storm,
But blush to castigate a broken reed:
We've all our peccadilloes and our worth;
Obloquial arrows seldom whiz around,
But from that quiver Error hangs—behind!
THE CATASTROPHE.
AN ILLUSTRATION.
'Tis a grand trait in Policy's belief,That you should set a thief to catch a thief.
Susan and Dick, a rusticated pair,
Who'd long conceiv'd a mutual sneaking kindness,
Resolv'd th'unhallow'd rites of Love to share,
But the coy Nymph, for reasons easy guest:
(Perhaps by Decency or Fear imprest)
Wish'd to eclipse her mother's eyes by blindness.
To perpetrate that point this eager twain
Into an oven's smoky womb retreated:
But ere their exatcies were in the wane,
The sly projected business was defeated:
Peery Discretion left them in the nick,
And Cunning play'd them a confounded trick.
Sue's raptures made her perturbation light,
Her senses whirling with supreme delight;
Her virgin blood within her arteries boil'd,
And all the guardians of her fame were foil'd:
The Dame miss'd Sue—the Dame had her suspicions,
For she had been a traitress in her prime:
Tho' now her colt's tooth was decay'd by Time,
And Cupid visits but on fix'd conditions:
She sought her Susan in the cell and garret,
Out-house and pantry, but she sought in vain:
25
The woodbine alcove and the browzing beeves,
At length the oven rush'd into her brain;
And there lay Sue, high-flush'd with shame, like claret!
Oh! you confounded, filthy, horrid jade,
Why faith, you're driving on a pretty trade!
Exclaim'd the Matron in a raging fury,
Ungrac'd by Pity, like a Faction's jury.
Oh Mother, Mother! quoth the trembling Sue,
Pardon this weakness—your good-will restore me.
Your feet had ne'er been led here by a clue,
Had you not play'd vagaries here before me:
This charge set all her prejudices reeling,
And op'd the flood-gates of her fellow-feeling:
What can be said? the force of Nature's great,
Venus and Sue were both the sport of Fate:
The fair of Ephesus—the Spartan's pride,
The Grace of Carthage and Uriah's bride:
Then let cold Apathy's vile tongue be still,
It ever has been thus, and ever will.
[As glitt'ring Vanity could never be]
As glitt'ring Vanity could never be
A resident within my ample breast,
Let not her ministry insult me dead;
The world's acclaim is caught by wily men,
The world's acclaim's of no import to me!
When all the Functions leave this tender frame,
(As genial swallows fly th'inclement Pole)
And the heart's gushing crimson channel's froze,
Should obsequies be wrought or eloge mouth'd,
Or Parian or Carara's entrails hewn,
To pile sepulchral quarries on my dust:
Or monumental rhapsody inscrib'd,
In posing, mutilated, classic lore,
Telling the observant all that I was—not!
May my hot curse discomfit ye more dire,
Then elemental wrath the murderer's bark!
A resident within my ample breast,
Let not her ministry insult me dead;
The world's acclaim is caught by wily men,
The world's acclaim's of no import to me!
When all the Functions leave this tender frame,
(As genial swallows fly th'inclement Pole)
And the heart's gushing crimson channel's froze,
Should obsequies be wrought or eloge mouth'd,
Or Parian or Carara's entrails hewn,
To pile sepulchral quarries on my dust:
Or monumental rhapsody inscrib'd,
In posing, mutilated, classic lore,
Telling the observant all that I was—not!
May my hot curse discomfit ye more dire,
Then elemental wrath the murderer's bark!
Be industry your solace and your guide,
Ye cannot, like the Prophet in the wild,
Be Raven fed with cutlets ready drest.
Ye cannot, like the Prophet in the wild,
Be Raven fed with cutlets ready drest.
Guarding no coffers I'm but demi-curst,
Sleep's door is bruis'd not by the thumps of Thought:
Ye do not wish me brain'd for what I have,
As having nought Avidity's my friend:
I never brought a ducat to my palm,
By ways the Monitor within disdain'd!
His Grace I know not—I can't soothe a knave;
Courts I abominate—I cannot lie!
The vile and meretricious, Plutus lauds,
Greatness—Goodness, never, never, never!
They're cast, like Remus, naked to the winds,
All their restricted dow'r is—Heav'n and Peace.
26
Ye do not wish me brain'd for what I have,
As having nought Avidity's my friend:
I never brought a ducat to my palm,
By ways the Monitor within disdain'd!
His Grace I know not—I can't soothe a knave;
Courts I abominate—I cannot lie!
The vile and meretricious, Plutus lauds,
Greatness—Goodness, never, never, never!
They're cast, like Remus, naked to the winds,
All their restricted dow'r is—Heav'n and Peace.
Whene'er ye meet a Gander by the mere,
Let the swol'n Coxcomb strut and be himself;
This is a Theatre they call their own,
And who'd deny their privilege to hiss?
The irritated Grub that tilts at Geese,
Awakens Pleasantry amid the Gods,
Who'd cease to banquet, listen, look and smile!
Prithee, my children, let the Losels swell,
Engender, carol, incubate and bathe,
Sibilant, silly, suscitating Snubs:
Th'apparent Base are fashion'd for an end,
Beauty's establish'd by opposing tints;
E'en thus the worthless make the worthy priz'd.
Let the swol'n Coxcomb strut and be himself;
This is a Theatre they call their own,
And who'd deny their privilege to hiss?
The irritated Grub that tilts at Geese,
Awakens Pleasantry amid the Gods,
Who'd cease to banquet, listen, look and smile!
Prithee, my children, let the Losels swell,
Engender, carol, incubate and bathe,
Sibilant, silly, suscitating Snubs:
Th'apparent Base are fashion'd for an end,
Beauty's establish'd by opposing tints;
E'en thus the worthless make the worthy priz'd.
I trust ere Phœbus, many, many times,
Shall circumscribe and gild this pendant mass,
All prejudice irrational and rude,
Will, like the fen-born Vapour, pass away,
And leave Perception, Truth without a vest:
Ye, who are callow, may exist, and see,
Benignant Equity resume her throne,
When Sophistry shall close her subtile eye;
Shapeless Irregularity uncrook'd,
And all our policy be—doing well!
Shall circumscribe and gild this pendant mass,
All prejudice irrational and rude,
Will, like the fen-born Vapour, pass away,
And leave Perception, Truth without a vest:
Ye, who are callow, may exist, and see,
Benignant Equity resume her throne,
When Sophistry shall close her subtile eye;
Shapeless Irregularity uncrook'd,
And all our policy be—doing well!
My gallant boys—my excellent young Knights,
Heroic Chevaliers to Beauty sworn:
I importune ye with the rage of Love,
To hold these puny Wenches to your hearts,
And give them welcome in the inmost core:
Fraternal feeling should precede this wish:
The boast of Hardihood's to shield the Fair!
Keep them from knowing Turpitude had birth:
Guard them immaculate as Cygnet's down:
Pledges of joy, and archetypes of Truth:
By antic Curiosity enforc'd,
They'll wander over Luxury's parterre!
(A Demon who inhabits but extremes)
Amble 'mong serpents in th'embroider'd mead,
And pluck inopportune the thorny rose:
Tripping obedient to the Flatterer's beck:
Licentious frisk it to the fraudful brink,
Slip from the precipice, and—charm no more!
When Woman falls 'tis from an awful height,
(On which Opinion elevates their worth)
Deep stung by Terror as they see th'Abyss,
Each toils, repentant, to regain the cliff,
But that sublime attainment cannot be;
Their pinions of salvation are half fledg'd,
Unequal to the vigorous wings of men!
Hope sorrowing yields the victim to her fate,
Who weeps—looks up, and sinking, fades in night
Sooner may ye re-whiten the chaste snow,
Smear'd by the brawny Cyclop's sooty limb,
Then wipe the odium from a nymph beguil'd!
We worship them, as Chinese do their Jos,
A porc'lain Deity, most sumptuous clad,
Which Demolition shivers at a blow.
Our daughters are palladiums to our state,
The brittle honors of the nuptial bed:
They, like the Africk apple, bring their cares,
Their brightness lures—their value is their ill.
Heroic Chevaliers to Beauty sworn:
I importune ye with the rage of Love,
To hold these puny Wenches to your hearts,
And give them welcome in the inmost core:
Fraternal feeling should precede this wish:
The boast of Hardihood's to shield the Fair!
Keep them from knowing Turpitude had birth:
Guard them immaculate as Cygnet's down:
Pledges of joy, and archetypes of Truth:
27
They'll wander over Luxury's parterre!
(A Demon who inhabits but extremes)
Amble 'mong serpents in th'embroider'd mead,
And pluck inopportune the thorny rose:
Tripping obedient to the Flatterer's beck:
Licentious frisk it to the fraudful brink,
Slip from the precipice, and—charm no more!
When Woman falls 'tis from an awful height,
(On which Opinion elevates their worth)
Deep stung by Terror as they see th'Abyss,
Each toils, repentant, to regain the cliff,
But that sublime attainment cannot be;
Their pinions of salvation are half fledg'd,
Unequal to the vigorous wings of men!
Hope sorrowing yields the victim to her fate,
Who weeps—looks up, and sinking, fades in night
Sooner may ye re-whiten the chaste snow,
Smear'd by the brawny Cyclop's sooty limb,
Then wipe the odium from a nymph beguil'd!
We worship them, as Chinese do their Jos,
A porc'lain Deity, most sumptuous clad,
Which Demolition shivers at a blow.
Our daughters are palladiums to our state,
The brittle honors of the nuptial bed:
They, like the Africk apple, bring their cares,
Their brightness lures—their value is their ill.
When that red Orb shall expedite a beam,
Fevering the Zephyrs of a summer's day:
And you behold a feeble, fainting Ant,
Lab'ring to top the summit of a mound;
(The subterraneous spurnings of a Mole)
Painfully laden with an oaten ear,
Or seed of wheat, or atom of a crust!
Seeking his granary, most aptly scoop'd
Beneath the root of some salubrious herb,
Where he deposits his unblighted corn,
To feed and solace when stern Winter foams
And shuts the fissures of the teeming earth:
Impede not the assiduous, panting elf,
Crush not his fibres, or arrest his freight,
But bid the unbreech'd Poults and Pullets gaze,
Reflect, reform, and wonder and be wise:
Tho' man eats man, and Might o'er Merit strides,
Let us not copy institutes so vile.
Example clears the optics of the soul,
In this the fear of famine stands confest!
What wild atchievements will not Famine do!
Vault over space, and pillage Tempé's plains,
Burrow beneath Potosi's antient mine,
Traverse the yawning deep when Ruin howls,
Climb Mona's side and seize the Eagle's young,
Pierce to the center cas'd with ribs of rock,
Shiver the adamantine heart of Pride,
And tear the horn from Plenty's lusty limb!
Fevering the Zephyrs of a summer's day:
And you behold a feeble, fainting Ant,
Lab'ring to top the summit of a mound;
(The subterraneous spurnings of a Mole)
Painfully laden with an oaten ear,
Or seed of wheat, or atom of a crust!
Seeking his granary, most aptly scoop'd
Beneath the root of some salubrious herb,
Where he deposits his unblighted corn,
To feed and solace when stern Winter foams
And shuts the fissures of the teeming earth:
Impede not the assiduous, panting elf,
Crush not his fibres, or arrest his freight,
But bid the unbreech'd Poults and Pullets gaze,
Reflect, reform, and wonder and be wise:
Tho' man eats man, and Might o'er Merit strides,
28
Example clears the optics of the soul,
In this the fear of famine stands confest!
What wild atchievements will not Famine do!
Vault over space, and pillage Tempé's plains,
Burrow beneath Potosi's antient mine,
Traverse the yawning deep when Ruin howls,
Climb Mona's side and seize the Eagle's young,
Pierce to the center cas'd with ribs of rock,
Shiver the adamantine heart of Pride,
And tear the horn from Plenty's lusty limb!
Pert Predilection leads the mob astray,
Authoritative Oafs combine to teize
Unhappy Oaflings—undiploma'd Curs,
Thus are the archives stain'd in Warwick-Lane!
Authoritative Oafs combine to teize
Unhappy Oaflings—undiploma'd Curs,
Thus are the archives stain'd in Warwick-Lane!
[Poor Graham's revil'd by licentiate herds]
Poor Graham's revil'd by licentiate herds,'Cause he buries us half in the earth:
But sure they mean this a mere play upon words,
Or Reason would burst with her mirth:
Shall this Priest of the Passions be spoil'd of his fees,
Or annoy'd with their Fame-murdering stones?
While 'tis regular practice, the College decrees,
To bury us—body and bones.
[Now open every chink, or great or small]
Now open every chink, or great or small,
That to the bright sensorium claims a kin:
And with the greediness of ductile Faith,
Take this commandment oral and supreme:
In courts or camps or maladis'd or sound,
Dormant or vigilant, morn, noon, and night:
By fen, by fire, by streamlet or by Loch:
On the brown mountain or the shaven heath:
By brake or bourn, be-labyrinth'd, be-cav'd:
Stretch'd 'neath the sun-beam or the beechen bough:
Luskish or fleet, lugubrious or glad:
'Mid Stygian rushes or cold Cydnus flags:
In Jove's own glitter or Tartarean fog:
My pretty Poults avoid—the Man of Law.
That to the bright sensorium claims a kin:
And with the greediness of ductile Faith,
Take this commandment oral and supreme:
In courts or camps or maladis'd or sound,
Dormant or vigilant, morn, noon, and night:
By fen, by fire, by streamlet or by Loch:
On the brown mountain or the shaven heath:
By brake or bourn, be-labyrinth'd, be-cav'd:
Stretch'd 'neath the sun-beam or the beechen bough:
Luskish or fleet, lugubrious or glad:
'Mid Stygian rushes or cold Cydnus flags:
In Jove's own glitter or Tartarean fog:
My pretty Poults avoid—the Man of Law.
29
I've now fulfill'd the high, parental points,
And plac'd the social compass 'fore your eyes;
'Tis yours to navigate and mine to die.
Had Homer sung thus how'd Longinus prais'd,
Quintilian wrote, and Philology bow'd!
But who'll regard a Cock's philosophy?
Mortal esteem's seduc'd by see-saw arts,
And seldom by the merits of the man:
A modern Phœbus Moderns will despise,
Poems, like coins, are valued for their rust,
And plac'd the social compass 'fore your eyes;
'Tis yours to navigate and mine to die.
Had Homer sung thus how'd Longinus prais'd,
Quintilian wrote, and Philology bow'd!
But who'll regard a Cock's philosophy?
Mortal esteem's seduc'd by see-saw arts,
And seldom by the merits of the man:
A modern Phœbus Moderns will despise,
Poems, like coins, are valued for their rust,
As the Athletæ who contemptuous look'd
On human prowess at th'Olympian goal,
I am bent down by Superstition's thumb,
And dread my doom because that doom's foretold!
Like Leyden's Lucas wasting with conceit.
On human prowess at th'Olympian goal,
I am bent down by Superstition's thumb,
And dread my doom because that doom's foretold!
Like Leyden's Lucas wasting with conceit.
Approximate to that renown'd barrier
Whose mud-deck'd base is whimsically patch'd
With varied notings for the Gazer's eye:
Of flying waggons and erudite Swine!
Hygeia's offerings, and the Drama's feast:
The strayed and stolen—Giant and the Dwarf,
Champanze humanis'd, and monkey'd man!
Nor Ionic, Dorick or Corinthian,
Tuscan or Composite are its gross parts:
But, like old Lud's queer bairns on whom It frowns,
Defies all order, and upholds Disgrace.
And on whose Baker-mounted, leaden top,
Rebellion fangless grinn'd on Brunswick's pride.
Tho' now it stands, like states, without a head.
Remains a Dismal Den, whose complex caves,
Hold Beasts of prey more dire than Daniel knew!
Who ever and anon like Tygers spring
From forth their haunts, and arm'd with band and brief
Appall the innocent, and wound the wise.
Who leagu'd (triennially) resistless seize
The aggregated riches of the land!
Before whose mightiness e'en Prelates bow!
Misanthropes supplicate and Chieftains shrink!
The virus of their rage no lenient heals
Or blessed herb Salubrity has cull'd:
'Tis a rank Scrophula which gnaws the mind,
And goads, like Israel's curse, the wretched race.
As moody Elders, pass their gaping gate,
They tremble, reconnoitre, fear and pray
Like scar-torn soldiers near a Foe made mine.
O'er its proud central mouth by Falshood hewn,
The Agnus Dei mocks their wary sense,
Who've felt that Templars are not—what they seem.
Whose mud-deck'd base is whimsically patch'd
With varied notings for the Gazer's eye:
Of flying waggons and erudite Swine!
Hygeia's offerings, and the Drama's feast:
The strayed and stolen—Giant and the Dwarf,
Champanze humanis'd, and monkey'd man!
Nor Ionic, Dorick or Corinthian,
Tuscan or Composite are its gross parts:
But, like old Lud's queer bairns on whom It frowns,
Defies all order, and upholds Disgrace.
And on whose Baker-mounted, leaden top,
Rebellion fangless grinn'd on Brunswick's pride.
Tho' now it stands, like states, without a head.
Remains a Dismal Den, whose complex caves,
Hold Beasts of prey more dire than Daniel knew!
Who ever and anon like Tygers spring
From forth their haunts, and arm'd with band and brief
Appall the innocent, and wound the wise.
Who leagu'd (triennially) resistless seize
The aggregated riches of the land!
Before whose mightiness e'en Prelates bow!
Misanthropes supplicate and Chieftains shrink!
The virus of their rage no lenient heals
Or blessed herb Salubrity has cull'd:
'Tis a rank Scrophula which gnaws the mind,
And goads, like Israel's curse, the wretched race.
As moody Elders, pass their gaping gate,
They tremble, reconnoitre, fear and pray
30
O'er its proud central mouth by Falshood hewn,
The Agnus Dei mocks their wary sense,
Who've felt that Templars are not—what they seem.
A GENTEEL RAP ON THE KNUCKLES,
An Epigram
The Lamb and Lawyers ill agree,They're not the Sons of Peace:
This symbol fails in all its points,
They are not fleec'd, but Fleece.
[Before Death's arrow shivers me and mine.]
Before Death's arrow shivers me and mine.I'll offer votive incense to the man
Who tore Guilt's bandage from the public eye!
Who gleam'd conviction thro' a servile world!
And, like another energetic Paul,
Made Felix tremble on his straw built throne:
As Monarchs are electrically knit,
The shock of Louis vibrates thro' the race.
ODE TO A PHILOSOPHER.
TO thee, dread champion of insulted man,
I dedicate this tributary lay:
I'll sweep my weak-strung lyre 'mid Honor's clan,
I'll had a feeble beam to his illumin'd day:
Lo! the aristocratic fallen crew!
With livid lips and fronts of horrid hue:
Mark how like wounded serpents they entwine,
Each his anathema despondent sings,
'Mid choral hissing and envenom'd stings;
To lacerate, sweet Merit, thee and thine:
They gnash their fangs, they rave, they writhe, they foam,
That Virtue is—that Freedom has a home.
I dedicate this tributary lay:
I'll sweep my weak-strung lyre 'mid Honor's clan,
I'll had a feeble beam to his illumin'd day:
Lo! the aristocratic fallen crew!
With livid lips and fronts of horrid hue:
Mark how like wounded serpents they entwine,
Each his anathema despondent sings,
'Mid choral hissing and envenom'd stings;
31
They gnash their fangs, they rave, they writhe, they foam,
That Virtue is—that Freedom has a home.
Breathes there a slave so abject—so forlorn,
Whom great example cannot move
To deeds of note—to rivet social love:
No vast emotions elevate his will,
To subjugate the ministry of Ill:
But, like the toad, polluted and opprest,
Will crawl—will sully genial Nature's breast,
The minion of Disease—the intimate of Scorn?
Whom great example cannot move
To deeds of note—to rivet social love:
No vast emotions elevate his will,
To subjugate the ministry of Ill:
But, like the toad, polluted and opprest,
Will crawl—will sully genial Nature's breast,
The minion of Disease—the intimate of Scorn?
Gallia's faint sons like pent-up lions saw,
Their faith an impost and their woes a law:
Till Heaven, in pity to their madd'ning pains,
Re-brac'd their nerves and burst their mental chains:
Regenerate—unadulterate they arose,
To meliorate their foes:
Thus man commun'd with man—We will be free,
And overpeer mortality:
They lifted their redoubted form,
Like the Leviathan above the storm,
Imbib'd the daring fervor of the hour,
And ardently, to prove their power,
Like the fierce eagle's brood, whose buoyant webs are spun,
Uprais'd their wings and brav'd the Regal Sun
Their faith an impost and their woes a law:
Till Heaven, in pity to their madd'ning pains,
Re-brac'd their nerves and burst their mental chains:
Regenerate—unadulterate they arose,
To meliorate their foes:
Thus man commun'd with man—We will be free,
And overpeer mortality:
They lifted their redoubted form,
Like the Leviathan above the storm,
Imbib'd the daring fervor of the hour,
And ardently, to prove their power,
Like the fierce eagle's brood, whose buoyant webs are spun,
Uprais'd their wings and brav'd the Regal Sun
As, rob'd in purple, Despotism smil'd,
To see Humanity so prompt beguil'd;
Passive Obedience 'fore the monster knelt,
(A hideous Sorceress, who never felt)
Besotting her repulsive chief,
With Adulation's lees, sad source of endless grief!
While Flattery's subtle, baneful opiate wrought,
The tempest knitted o'er his head:
The Sybil's fatal volume was unread—
The bloated reptile was unsmote by Thought—
'Till, swift as cataracts impetuous throw
Their whitening elemental sheets below,
Indignant legions seiz'd the anointed Drone,
And dash'd him from his massy throne!
In vain he sought salvation in his flight—
In vain he deprecated Terror's night—
They drew their arrows to the head,
And pierc'd him as he flew:
The Gods unmoan'd him as he bled—
Hell yawning gulp'd its due.
To see Humanity so prompt beguil'd;
Passive Obedience 'fore the monster knelt,
(A hideous Sorceress, who never felt)
Besotting her repulsive chief,
With Adulation's lees, sad source of endless grief!
While Flattery's subtle, baneful opiate wrought,
The tempest knitted o'er his head:
The Sybil's fatal volume was unread—
The bloated reptile was unsmote by Thought—
'Till, swift as cataracts impetuous throw
Their whitening elemental sheets below,
Indignant legions seiz'd the anointed Drone,
And dash'd him from his massy throne!
In vain he sought salvation in his flight—
In vain he deprecated Terror's night—
32
And pierc'd him as he flew:
The Gods unmoan'd him as he bled—
Hell yawning gulp'd its due.
Illustrious denizens, ye nobly are,
What man should be—what recreant Britons were!
The light of Reason issuing on the hind,
Travers'd a nation's mind:
Her hallow'd dogma gave them peace and wealth,
Glory and grace and intellectual health:
Flowing majestic as the Theban's song,
Bright as Hyperion's blaze—as Independance strong
Beneath the olive's sacred envied shade,
Heroes shall delve and Beauty never fade:
Abundance o'er their hamlets shake her horn,
And give the manna ere the wish is born:
As the warm southern wild enfranchis'd Breeze
So sportively consumes the rosy hours:
Purloining odour from the blossom'd trees,
Kissing the honied calices of flowers:
Shall they embrace the scions of Delight,
And ravish varying bliss with confidential right.
What man should be—what recreant Britons were!
The light of Reason issuing on the hind,
Travers'd a nation's mind:
Her hallow'd dogma gave them peace and wealth,
Glory and grace and intellectual health:
Flowing majestic as the Theban's song,
Bright as Hyperion's blaze—as Independance strong
Beneath the olive's sacred envied shade,
Heroes shall delve and Beauty never fade:
Abundance o'er their hamlets shake her horn,
And give the manna ere the wish is born:
As the warm southern wild enfranchis'd Breeze
So sportively consumes the rosy hours:
Purloining odour from the blossom'd trees,
Kissing the honied calices of flowers:
Shall they embrace the scions of Delight,
And ravish varying bliss with confidential right.
Selected Æra, eminently blest,
An epoch Time will value 'bove the rest:
When dread Eternity shall bound his reign,
'Twill make him blithe, he has not been in vain:
Esurient Ruin shall be taught to spare
Those altars congregated Virtues rear:
And Genii, flit ineffably around,
To shield from taint the consecrated ground:
An epoch Time will value 'bove the rest:
When dread Eternity shall bound his reign,
'Twill make him blithe, he has not been in vain:
Esurient Ruin shall be taught to spare
Those altars congregated Virtues rear:
And Genii, flit ineffably around,
To shield from taint the consecrated ground:
Hence shall the imperial, sceptred Ruler know
A people's agony wakes kingly woe:
Nor jasper, porphyry or granite seat,
Can make th'incumbent dignified or great.
Erratic Prejudice has bruis'd her wing—
Tyranny's snows resolve 'fore Wisdom's spring—
The fastuous Monk shall on the legend tread—
The meek meet Clemency, and Famine Bread.
Now re-born France the high resplendent fane
Of generous, radiant Liberty has built;
May her pure vow unmeasur'd good obtain;
Inspirit crouching Relatives with fire—
Infuse the seedlings of august desire—
Fascinate hoary Europe from her guilt!
A people's agony wakes kingly woe:
Nor jasper, porphyry or granite seat,
Can make th'incumbent dignified or great.
Erratic Prejudice has bruis'd her wing—
Tyranny's snows resolve 'fore Wisdom's spring—
The fastuous Monk shall on the legend tread—
The meek meet Clemency, and Famine Bread.
Now re-born France the high resplendent fane
Of generous, radiant Liberty has built;
33
Inspirit crouching Relatives with fire—
Infuse the seedlings of august desire—
Fascinate hoary Europe from her guilt!
[Ah, must I die, like Varlets hung in health]
Ah, must I die, like Varlets hung in health,
And kick the bucket, squeak, and tip all nine?
Perhaps the Caitiffs think, like Schism's sons,
To benefit our cause by persecution:
For some who smite Religion give her health,
As rough Buzaglo beats the gouty firm!
Or under the pretence of being kind,
Imagine us, like turnips on the glebe,
Who'll thrive the better being trodden down:
I'll purchase Sherlock, Drelincourt and Dodd,
Thomas Aquinas and old Jerome's vols,
Then gather resignation from the page:
Agreeably to the tenets of my creed,
This is probation for the realms of Joy!
But is it not an enigmatic law,
The faithful must be damn'd before they die,
And like th'asbestos furnac'd to be white?
That Jove will only flog the boys he loves,
And let the buttocks of the bad alone?
But I'm an Optimist, and all is right.
Behold my Father there, a tough old blade.
He kept his Thais and he fought his man.
See, with a tear-gall'd eye, the thing he is,
Thus cank'ring Time will steal us from ourselves!
Alas, the summer of his being's sped;
Lo, like a pithless, bald, dismantled Oak,
Whose last leaf's shatter'd by th'Autumnal gust,
He tott'ring bends to bruise the vernal sod,
Shorn to the stump, and fitting to be riv'd,
Whene'er the Thunderer wings the final blaze.
And kick the bucket, squeak, and tip all nine?
Perhaps the Caitiffs think, like Schism's sons,
To benefit our cause by persecution:
For some who smite Religion give her health,
As rough Buzaglo beats the gouty firm!
Or under the pretence of being kind,
Imagine us, like turnips on the glebe,
Who'll thrive the better being trodden down:
I'll purchase Sherlock, Drelincourt and Dodd,
Thomas Aquinas and old Jerome's vols,
Then gather resignation from the page:
Agreeably to the tenets of my creed,
This is probation for the realms of Joy!
But is it not an enigmatic law,
The faithful must be damn'd before they die,
And like th'asbestos furnac'd to be white?
That Jove will only flog the boys he loves,
And let the buttocks of the bad alone?
But I'm an Optimist, and all is right.
Behold my Father there, a tough old blade.
He kept his Thais and he fought his man.
See, with a tear-gall'd eye, the thing he is,
Thus cank'ring Time will steal us from ourselves!
Alas, the summer of his being's sped;
Lo, like a pithless, bald, dismantled Oak,
Whose last leaf's shatter'd by th'Autumnal gust,
He tott'ring bends to bruise the vernal sod,
Shorn to the stump, and fitting to be riv'd,
Whene'er the Thunderer wings the final blaze.
Abhorrent Death, thou Prince of gourmands hence,
Who feeds felicitous on human kind:
You drink the blood from Beauty's ruby lip,
And loose those sinews which invig'rate youth:
Ah! rattle not your gumless fangs at me,
Thou King of terrors, and thou child of Sin:
Th'Anthropophagi, who bleak Syria rov'd,
Those of Brazil, and eke the Thracian steeds:
Astydamus or Cœlum's cruel son,
Potitius, Phago or Nisæus,
Philoxenus, or Gascoigne or Lebeck,
Arpiages or gross Heliogab,
The Sewers embouchure at Holborn bridge!
That steamy hole in Walter's wooden head!
The Fowl of Egypt, or the Corm'rant's maw,
Deputy Leaky, Quin, or Sawney Bean,
Could not devour one tythe so much as you!
Fever, Gout, Ague, Palsy and Catarrh,
Sciatica and Tooth-ach, Piles and Spleen,
Atrophy, Gravel, Plethora and Gleet,
Hydrophobia, Phthisis, Gripes and Phlegm,
Paraphimosis, Mulligrubs and Flux,
Tubercle, Emprostotonas and Dumps,
Lumbago, Lues, Vertigo and Cramp,
Dropsy, Glums, Scurvy, Spasm, Bile and Lax,
And all your pestilential Slaves avaunt,
Flit to your Grandmama Pandora's chest,
And be shut up in everlasting night.
But can my weak solicitude avail?
Oh, no—then, ghastly Archer, do your worst,
I'll bare my breast, and placid meet Decay,
For he who fears to die's not fit to live.
Why should I bear the taunts of little men,
Who could with prompitude be now supprest,
But that I feel it glorious to obey,
And meet the seeming horror as I ought?
When the tremendous Source of matter wills,
To chain the blandishment—to urge the pang,
And shade our frail estate with sable woe;
Be sure in the concussion of events,
The partial ill precedes a mighty good,
As gloomy Night bathes Nature with her dews:
Supported and supporting we dissolve,
All would be blest if all knew what they were.
Who feeds felicitous on human kind:
You drink the blood from Beauty's ruby lip,
And loose those sinews which invig'rate youth:
Ah! rattle not your gumless fangs at me,
Thou King of terrors, and thou child of Sin:
34
Those of Brazil, and eke the Thracian steeds:
Astydamus or Cœlum's cruel son,
Potitius, Phago or Nisæus,
Philoxenus, or Gascoigne or Lebeck,
Arpiages or gross Heliogab,
The Sewers embouchure at Holborn bridge!
That steamy hole in Walter's wooden head!
The Fowl of Egypt, or the Corm'rant's maw,
Deputy Leaky, Quin, or Sawney Bean,
Could not devour one tythe so much as you!
Fever, Gout, Ague, Palsy and Catarrh,
Sciatica and Tooth-ach, Piles and Spleen,
Atrophy, Gravel, Plethora and Gleet,
Hydrophobia, Phthisis, Gripes and Phlegm,
Paraphimosis, Mulligrubs and Flux,
Tubercle, Emprostotonas and Dumps,
Lumbago, Lues, Vertigo and Cramp,
Dropsy, Glums, Scurvy, Spasm, Bile and Lax,
And all your pestilential Slaves avaunt,
Flit to your Grandmama Pandora's chest,
And be shut up in everlasting night.
But can my weak solicitude avail?
Oh, no—then, ghastly Archer, do your worst,
I'll bare my breast, and placid meet Decay,
For he who fears to die's not fit to live.
Why should I bear the taunts of little men,
Who could with prompitude be now supprest,
But that I feel it glorious to obey,
And meet the seeming horror as I ought?
When the tremendous Source of matter wills,
To chain the blandishment—to urge the pang,
And shade our frail estate with sable woe;
Be sure in the concussion of events,
The partial ill precedes a mighty good,
As gloomy Night bathes Nature with her dews:
Supported and supporting we dissolve,
All would be blest if all knew what they were.
What are to me the uses of this world,
When nothing's serious in mortality?
As Piety's the child of Dread, I'll pray,
Pater noster qui es in coelis, heu,
Miserere nobis—but I'll no more,
Britons have turn'd their backs on beamy Faith:
They smile at orisons from Priests and me;
Men hope eventual mercy, yielding none.
When nothing's serious in mortality?
As Piety's the child of Dread, I'll pray,
Pater noster qui es in coelis, heu,
Miserere nobis—but I'll no more,
35
They smile at orisons from Priests and me;
Men hope eventual mercy, yielding none.
THE END.
A HYMN TO HYGEIA.
OCCASIONED BY THE ALARMING ILLNESS OF Mr. SHERIDAN.
Daughter of Heaven—roseate Goddess deign,To list, and dissipate a nation's pain:
Lo, denting Misery's pillow, touch'd by Grief,
Curtius, the point of Glory, claims relief!
Like Jove's own bird, that through Empyrean flew,
He bears his thunder 'mid Guilt's lurking crew;
Shivers the congress knitting human ills,
And gives Oblivion all Britannia wills:
In Wisdom's school, he learn'd the rule of right,
And keeps, unceasingly, that rule in sight:
His lion-like endowments nerve his song,
He's vast and luminous,—benign and strong;
Fierce in the combat, but his foe subdu'd,
He pours upon each sense a tide of good:
Love proudly chronicled his bosom's sigh,
Sweet Virtue's lightning issued from his eye!
36
His peerless merit dimm'd the garish peers:
Truth, like Jehovah's manna, fraught his tongue,
To glad the aged, and illume the young:
Shall he be torn from all that's great and just?
Shall Vice be jubilant upon his dust?
Shall Superstition's monks again be proud,
Roar the anathema and chill the croud?
Shall Envy's paly cheek be wreath'd with smiles?
Shall Fraud delude the million with his wiles?
Shall Theban monsters belch with patriot gore?
Shall dulcet Hope's dominion be no more?
Shall Phœbus droop and sadden unborn years?
Shall stern Philosophy be bath'd with tears?
Cull the blest herbage—pierce where minerals lie,
Keep his imperial spirit from the sky:
Till that Millenium comes the Seers divin'd;
Till Fate has burst the chains of human kind—
Let not his attic heroism end;
Let Freedom yet cling round him as a friend:
Depute thy minions to establish ease;
Extract the poison from the vagrant breeze:
Soften that force which feeds our system's strife,
Correct the elements that chasten life:
The Muses shriek to stop the ebon dart,
And keep the ice of Ruin from his generous heart.
Feb. 15th. 1794.
A CRYING EPISTLE FROM BRITANNIA
TO COLONEL MACK, Including a Naked Portrait of the KING, QUEEN, and PRINCE, With Notes, Political, Philosophical and Personal.
9
BRITANNIA TO COLONEL MACK,
GREETING.
Prodigious man! nutmeg of sturdy wights;
Hero of heroes, light of all the lights:
Who's done such wonders and has seen such sights;
Save me from ruin, gallant Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Hero of heroes, light of all the lights:
Who's done such wonders and has seen such sights;
Save me from ruin, gallant Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
From Danton, Roberspierre and all those dogs,
Who call my bishops rogues, all sovereigns logs;
Who anarchize the world, and gobble frogs,
Save me, oh save me, noble Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Who call my bishops rogues, all sovereigns logs;
Who anarchize the world, and gobble frogs,
Save me, oh save me, noble Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
10
Germans have had a general rout and Funk;
And we a general fast, and general Monk;
Yet is our hope and eke our honor sunk!
Oh haste and save us, matchless Colonel Mack,
Lord what a way we're in—good lack!
And we a general fast, and general Monk;
Yet is our hope and eke our honor sunk!
Oh haste and save us, matchless Colonel Mack,
Lord what a way we're in—good lack!
They make our gracious king himself look blue!
Our peers all pallid, and our knights askew,
The devil ride a hunting with the crew:
Bully the cannibals, great Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Our peers all pallid, and our knights askew,
The devil ride a hunting with the crew:
Bully the cannibals, great Colonel Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Thou man of men, who ravishes renown,
Who gives or takes the lustre from a crown:
Point of delight with country, court, and town;
Oh haste and save me, princely Colonel Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Who gives or takes the lustre from a crown:
Point of delight with country, court, and town;
Oh haste and save me, princely Colonel Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Oh Chief, before whose arm, whole nations fled,
Wonderful man!—though fierce yet so well bred;
Who knits his brows and looks battalions dead:
But, slash, dash, maim, my Herculean Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Wonderful man!—though fierce yet so well bred;
Who knits his brows and looks battalions dead:
But, slash, dash, maim, my Herculean Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Peg Nicholson assail'd the Lords anointed!
Dolts to my fleets and armies, are appointed!
Can any marvel that my mind's disjointed?
Ah! venez mon ami, relieve me Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Dolts to my fleets and armies, are appointed!
Can any marvel that my mind's disjointed?
11
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
My branches, Peg and Paddy, make a rout
'Bout freedom and such stuff, which like the gout,
Pains both extremes, and then it oozes out,
Must I be ever tortur'd, tell me Mack?
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
'Bout freedom and such stuff, which like the gout,
Pains both extremes, and then it oozes out,
Must I be ever tortur'd, tell me Mack?
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Merchants of old, would poze o'er Tare and Tret:
My merchants now will o'er Demoivre fret:
Damme I'll advertise my shop to let.
Unless you rescue me, my ruthless Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack;
My merchants now will o'er Demoivre fret:
Damme I'll advertise my shop to let.
12
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack;
Give every Sans Culotte a kick or knock;
To bring those ruffians to Perdition's block,
I'd pawn my petticoat, aye zounds my smock;
Come to my arms, my sympathetic Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
To bring those ruffians to Perdition's block,
I'd pawn my petticoat, aye zounds my smock;
Come to my arms, my sympathetic Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My Lion's indispos'd—my friend's inglorious;
My shield's bedaub'd with filth—my foes victorious:
Let not the swinish rabble be uproarious:
Cramp their rude organs, pester them my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My shield's bedaub'd with filth—my foes victorious:
Let not the swinish rabble be uproarious:
Cramp their rude organs, pester them my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Poor Ursula is ravish'd,—Maud's with child!
Sweet Genevieve is burnt and Agnes broil'd;
Should even wooden Saints be thus defil'd?
Rise up in arms, my prop, my pious Mack.
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
Sweet Genevieve is burnt and Agnes broil'd;
Should even wooden Saints be thus defil'd?
13
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
'Sblood where is Watty Lewes and his bands;
His yellow boys, who fight for house and lands:
What can I do but weep, they've tied my hands?
Ah! be not torpid, venerable Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
His yellow boys, who fight for house and lands:
What can I do but weep, they've tied my hands?
Ah! be not torpid, venerable Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
The hair upon my head's turn'd white with thinking,
My drapery's threadbare, and my firmness sinking:
Now all my spirit's gone, I take to drinking!
When I am muzzy pity me great Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My drapery's threadbare, and my firmness sinking:
Now all my spirit's gone, I take to drinking!
When I am muzzy pity me great Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Virtue's denied the privilege of dining;
My shuttle's dusty—my battalions whining,
All Stock but that of Impudence declining!
Regenerate my interests peerless Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My shuttle's dusty—my battalions whining,
All Stock but that of Impudence declining!
Regenerate my interests peerless Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My expectation's wind-bound—Wonder reigns:
Hymen is in the suds, and Love in chains;
C---e has turn'd his coat, and P---z his brains!
Correct the universe, refulgent Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Hymen is in the suds, and Love in chains;
C---e has turn'd his coat, and P---z his brains!
Correct the universe, refulgent Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
14
My summer suns roll on, yet few make hay:
All have been ruin'd—all in ruin gay!
All rush to run in debt, but none to pay!
Tell me why Men are thus, didactic Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
All have been ruin'd—all in ruin gay!
All rush to run in debt, but none to pay!
Tell me why Men are thus, didactic Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My Ledger's smear'd by knaves in Friendship's guise:
Cyphers in every corner meet my eyes!
Then why I'm bankrupt how can I devise?
Such errors madden me, ah smite 'em Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Cyphers in every corner meet my eyes!
Then why I'm bankrupt how can I devise?
Such errors madden me, ah smite 'em Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Faith like a Polypus is subdivided,
The points of moral right are undecided:
Priests and old women are alike derided.
Be hot with wrath, great iron-hearted Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
The points of moral right are undecided:
Priests and old women are alike derided.
Be hot with wrath, great iron-hearted Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Nymphs scud to Folly's fair, and leave their stitches;
My banks are paper cramm'd, but few have riches;
The Arts wants sustenance, the Artists breeches.
Say, shall a Muse be ragged, liberal Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My banks are paper cramm'd, but few have riches;
The Arts wants sustenance, the Artists breeches.
15
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My tears run scalding like the Stygian river:
My o'erwrought anger's half consum'd my liver:
And asking half a crown, can find no giver,
Heu date Obolum,, loquacious Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My o'erwrought anger's half consum'd my liver:
And asking half a crown, can find no giver,
Heu date Obolum,, loquacious Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Commerce is lame—the Law lost half her whips,
Let them not force me, to repair these slips:
To fasten slumpy brooms upon my ships:
Exterminate maurauders, ardent Mack;
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Let them not force me, to repair these slips:
To fasten slumpy brooms upon my ships:
Exterminate maurauders, ardent Mack;
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Curst be the hour when Metaphysics rose,
To make the docile and their leaders foes:
And give the Lamb of Peace terrific blows.
'Tis yours to maul the caitiffs, radiant Mack!
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
To make the docile and their leaders foes:
And give the Lamb of Peace terrific blows.
'Tis yours to maul the caitiffs, radiant Mack!
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
W---m's verbose, and L---h is loud,
B---k---m's ossified, and G---lle's proud:
P---'s in a fog, and B---ke is in a cloud.
Pity my feelings, smile illustrious Mack.
Lord What a way I'm in—good lack!
B---k---m's ossified, and G---lle's proud:
P---'s in a fog, and B---ke is in a cloud.
Pity my feelings, smile illustrious Mack.
Lord What a way I'm in—good lack!
16
Opinion shews you as a demi-God!
Fate bends his iron muscles at your nod!—
The Universe shall bow and kiss your rod.
Such potency is thine, intrepid Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Fate bends his iron muscles at your nod!—
The Universe shall bow and kiss your rod.
Such potency is thine, intrepid Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Must I, Coz-german to the best of Kings,
Be goaded by the malice, jeers and flings,
Of bilious brutes, and democratic things?
Forbid it heaven, forbid it fearless Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Be goaded by the malice, jeers and flings,
Of bilious brutes, and democratic things?
Forbid it heaven, forbid it fearless Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Offspring of Mars: dread unique of the earth,
Bellona swaddled you in thund'ring mirth:
Kingdoms shall arrogate your radient birth,
Now think of that my memorable Mack;
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Bellona swaddled you in thund'ring mirth:
Kingdoms shall arrogate your radient birth,
17
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Billy's outrun the Constable, I fear,
I'll make him garrulous with Whitbread's cheer:
I know the dog is leaky in his beer.
Should he be found a bifrons trounce him Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
I'll make him garrulous with Whitbread's cheer:
I know the dog is leaky in his beer.
Should he be found a bifrons trounce him Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Fortune shall bask beneath your brilliant eye;
Cherubs shall hail you from their inmost sky;
Bards shall immortalise you, ere you die.
Such wondrous recompence awaits my Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Cherubs shall hail you from their inmost sky;
Bards shall immortalise you, ere you die.
Such wondrous recompence awaits my Mack.
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
18
My Constitution's worn by knawing ills,
I've tried both Velno's Syrup and Ward's pills:
I've had all unctions which nor cures nor kills:
Bring a hot lavement, and infuse it Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
I've tried both Velno's Syrup and Ward's pills:
I've had all unctions which nor cures nor kills:
Bring a hot lavement, and infuse it Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
I've had two fits, when scarce my inmates knew me:
When Ingrates North and South suppos'd they slew me;
A third, the Grey beards rumour will undo me:
Aid my debility, renowned Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
When Ingrates North and South suppos'd they slew me;
A third, the Grey beards rumour will undo me:
Aid my debility, renowned Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
19
Pray mid your Sophs, does any art remain,
To wipe from Memory's tablet Error's slain:
Or wash Time's cobwebs from a Matron's brain?
Send me an Empiric, illumin'd Mack,
Lord What a way I'm in—good lack!
To wipe from Memory's tablet Error's slain:
Or wash Time's cobwebs from a Matron's brain?
Send me an Empiric, illumin'd Mack,
Lord What a way I'm in—good lack!
The rabble tieze me with their yells and whoops!
What would they have? they bawl in motly groupes:
I've sent my flannel night cap to the troops;
My scull's defenceless: woe is mine my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
What would they have? they bawl in motly groupes:
I've sent my flannel night cap to the troops;
My scull's defenceless: woe is mine my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
T---e has run among his brats at Knight's Hill;
Meek H---'ry toils to twist the sense but writes ill:
Young Fred has spirit, but the Tyro fights ill:
Such Ninnies fret me to the quick dear Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Meek H---'ry toils to twist the sense but writes ill:
Young Fred has spirit, but the Tyro fights ill:
Such Ninnies fret me to the quick dear Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
20
D---s can't make a shift, yet's often ruffled!
M---e and spouse, though whore and rogue, have scuffled!
The Nation's bled—the Nation's prayers are snuffled!
Sure Common Sense is moider'd, gentle Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
M---e and spouse, though whore and rogue, have scuffled!
The Nation's bled—the Nation's prayers are snuffled!
Sure Common Sense is moider'd, gentle Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
P*t was presuming when a young beginner:
S---d---y's a scroyle—A---d---n's a luckless winner!
I wish with all my soul their sculls were thinner!
Cannot you plane the cranium, honest Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
S---d---y's a scroyle—A---d---n's a luckless winner!
I wish with all my soul their sculls were thinner!
Cannot you plane the cranium, honest Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Ah Louis Seize, they seiz'd thy sacred head,
And threw it reeking mid the vulgar dead:
But he shall reign although his Spirit's fled.
Noddle or none, a King's a king my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
And threw it reeking mid the vulgar dead:
But he shall reign although his Spirit's fled.
Noddle or none, a King's a king my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Th'Atlantic once all duteous wash'd my shores,
But now the saucy Hussey rolls and roars,
And publishes with France, her foul amours!
Turn Neptune's cock, empty her dish my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
But now the saucy Hussey rolls and roars,
And publishes with France, her foul amours!
Turn Neptune's cock, empty her dish my Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
21
In the Council chamber, there's a Rat of power,
I've often smelt his fœces, rank and sour:
Who nibbles Magna Charta every hour.
Send me a trap, to snare this Reptile, Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
I've often smelt his fœces, rank and sour:
Who nibbles Magna Charta every hour.
Send me a trap, to snare this Reptile, Mack,
Oh what a way I'm in—good lack!
In a few weeks I'll take a trip to Dover;
But if I see that Gallia lives in clover:
I'll bid the curtain drop! the farce is over!
Placemen and Pensioners have bruis'd me, Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
But if I see that Gallia lives in clover:
I'll bid the curtain drop! the farce is over!
Placemen and Pensioners have bruis'd me, Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
22
Nobles to nothing noble now incline;
Like crawling worms they best in darkness shine;
Those who love Lords, love not such Lords as mine!
Cannot you meliorate these Bipeds Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Like crawling worms they best in darkness shine;
Those who love Lords, love not such Lords as mine!
Cannot you meliorate these Bipeds Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
23
Sure Mack, 'twas you, who strutted in the Moon:
And dropt mid us to keep the mob in tune—
Tell me if Dian takes her tea at noon.
Or visits 'mong the Lady Planets, Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
And dropt mid us to keep the mob in tune—
Tell me if Dian takes her tea at noon.
Or visits 'mong the Lady Planets, Mack?
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
The beatitudes are unfulfill'd, though few,
None hide the naked from the sinners' view,
Or cram the hungry mouth, but good old Q.
Restore morality religious Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
None hide the naked from the sinners' view,
Or cram the hungry mouth, but good old Q.
Restore morality religious Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Stulti with paste and scissors botch our plays,
Proud Wit's denied the privilege of praise!
Lo Phœbus p*ss*s on Sir Fretful's bays!
Say should the bawdy Sun crush Mungrels, Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Proud Wit's denied the privilege of praise!
Lo Phœbus p*ss*s on Sir Fretful's bays!
Say should the bawdy Sun crush Mungrels, Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Damn'd be that hour, I once, like Mistress Draper,
Was grip'd and did the deed of fœtid vapour,
Then seiz'd the Bill of Rights as Common paper.
Oh direful blunder—spare my blushes Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Was grip'd and did the deed of fœtid vapour,
Then seiz'd the Bill of Rights as Common paper.
Oh direful blunder—spare my blushes Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Gaunt Ell---t's swoln like Cœti with their vast skins,
G---y's become incessant in his askings:
Great Br---ns---k has befoul'd his galligaskins!
Ah! wipe the hero down, my decent Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
G---y's become incessant in his askings:
Great Br---ns---k has befoul'd his galligaskins!
24
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
My pauper Premier 'mid the Alarmists glories,
B---ke bodders B---nt---ck with his Jesuit stories:
Tories are whitewash'd, and my Whigs turn'd Tories:
Sure day is night, and night is day, my Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
B---ke bodders B---nt---ck with his Jesuit stories:
Tories are whitewash'd, and my Whigs turn'd Tories:
Sure day is night, and night is day, my Mack:
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
P---t stirs his puppets, and his Ducks and Drakes!
The Royal Garden's marr'd with weeds and snakes:
Decency's fences every whipster breaks;
My soul has sicken'd at the sight dear Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
The Royal Garden's marr'd with weeds and snakes:
Decency's fences every whipster breaks;
My soul has sicken'd at the sight dear Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
The French, like goblins, haunt my troublous sleep,
Methinks, I see them plough the foaming deep:
I curse, and pray, and grunt, and groan, and weep!
Make Ocean swallow them, my ireful Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Methinks, I see them plough the foaming deep:
I curse, and pray, and grunt, and groan, and weep!
Make Ocean swallow them, my ireful Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Should Barrere drive my car in Ruin's ruts,
Or paw my frame, as Louis us'd his sluts:
By holy Paul, I'll kick him in the guts!
Oh save me from pollution, valorous Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Or paw my frame, as Louis us'd his sluts:
By holy Paul, I'll kick him in the guts!
Oh save me from pollution, valorous Mack,
Lord what a way I'm in—good lack!
Yours duly and truly, Britannia.
At the Broken Anchor, Little
Britain.
March 11th, 1794, OLD STYLE.
THE LIFE OF THE LATE EARL OF BARRYMORE.
INCLUDING A HISTORY OF THE WARGRAVE THEATRICALS, AND ORIGINAL ANECDOTES OF EMINENT PERSONS.
Rien n'est beau que le Vrai,
Le Vrai seul est aimable.
Le Vrai seul est aimable.
28
A NEW MASQUERADE BALLAD.
COME, jolly Mortals! join the croud,
Be gay, ridiculous, and loud,
Be any thing but dumb;
Let dominos be banish'd hence,
But Fun and Fancy, Wit and Sense,
In any figure come.
Be gay, ridiculous, and loud,
Be any thing but dumb;
Let dominos be banish'd hence,
But Fun and Fancy, Wit and Sense,
In any figure come.
Sweepers who know not how to sweep,
And harlequins who cannot leap,
Old women—scarcely twenty;
Misses in teens—near six feet high,
Law, Physic, and Divinity,
And nosegay girls in plenty.
And harlequins who cannot leap,
Old women—scarcely twenty;
Misses in teens—near six feet high,
Law, Physic, and Divinity,
And nosegay girls in plenty.
Let such as these this festive night,
To form the motley group unite,
And each with glee endeavour
(As o'er them rays of Fancy gleam)
To be the character they seem,
And, if they can, be clever.
To form the motley group unite,
And each with glee endeavour
(As o'er them rays of Fancy gleam)
To be the character they seem,
And, if they can, be clever.
29
Beauties in vain their forms disguise,
Now to attract their lovers' eyes,
Now wishing to be seen;
And while soft things the lover says,
The list'ning fair no blush betrays,
Behind the pasteboard screen.
Now to attract their lovers' eyes,
Now wishing to be seen;
And while soft things the lover says,
The list'ning fair no blush betrays,
Behind the pasteboard screen.
In search of new adventures here,
Some tonish husbands too appear,
With eager palpitation;
Here contradict their usual lives,
And very kindly—with their wives
May make an assignation.
Some tonish husbands too appear,
With eager palpitation;
Here contradict their usual lives,
And very kindly—with their wives
May make an assignation.
Love in such tricks as these delights,
Thus archly plagues poor married wights,
Or tortures love-sick swains;
His amplest field's a masquerade,
Here are his various gambols play'd,
His pleasures and his pains.
Thus archly plagues poor married wights,
Or tortures love-sick swains;
His amplest field's a masquerade,
Here are his various gambols play'd,
His pleasures and his pains.
Let serious mortals, seeming wise,
The humors of the night despise,
And jollity upbraid;
What harm one night a mask to wear?
Most wear a mask throughout the year;
The world's a masquerade.
The humors of the night despise,
And jollity upbraid;
What harm one night a mask to wear?
Most wear a mask throughout the year;
The world's a masquerade.
30
Could we but see the little great,
And e'en the rulers of the state,
Without a mask before them;
Deluded crowds no more would bow;
With open'd eyes, they'd wonder how
They could so long adore them.
And e'en the rulers of the state,
Without a mask before them;
Deluded crowds no more would bow;
With open'd eyes, they'd wonder how
They could so long adore them.
At White's mask'd ball let this fam'd fet
Political chicane forget,
And leave their masks behind them;
Each be himself—but lest they err,
Let me point out each character,
As Nature first design'd them.
Political chicane forget,
And leave their masks behind them;
Each be himself—but lest they err,
Let me point out each character,
As Nature first design'd them.
First, then, let --- a juggler be,
With servile ---, as deputy,
To aid his master's cheat;
Let him, as usual, then display,
His cups and balls in full array,
The engines of deceit.
With servile ---, as deputy,
To aid his master's cheat;
Let him, as usual, then display,
His cups and balls in full array,
The engines of deceit.
Then let him on the table place
A surplus million to your face,
To prove his wonders done;
But whilst you look with longing eyes,
The heaps all vanish from your eyes,
The fancy'd million's gone.
A surplus million to your face,
To prove his wonders done;
But whilst you look with longing eyes,
The heaps all vanish from your eyes,
The fancy'd million's gone.
31
What shall we give to S---y's lot,
Since Tommy T---d's name's forgot,
Nor Commons now confute him;
He's chang'd his coat, and broke his oaths,
Then let him come in Clincher's cloaths,
Tom Errand sure will suit him.
Since Tommy T---d's name's forgot,
Nor Commons now confute him;
He's chang'd his coat, and broke his oaths,
Then let him come in Clincher's cloaths,
Tom Errand sure will suit him.
Let Active W---d be here,
An harlequin will suit the peer,
He'll caper at direction;
From Holyhead to Dublin now
A leap he takes—and you'll allow
That's leaping in perfection.
An harlequin will suit the peer,
He'll caper at direction;
From Holyhead to Dublin now
A leap he takes—and you'll allow
That's leaping in perfection.
Since D---t's duke can vainly hope
With youth and beauty still to Cope,
Nor single longer tarry;
Sir Peter Teazle be his due,
Consider he is fifty-two,
“And that's too old to marry.”
With youth and beauty still to Cope,
Nor single longer tarry;
Sir Peter Teazle be his due,
Consider he is fifty-two,
“And that's too old to marry.”
Let B---e, as an usher, speak
Trite, common, hackney'd scraps of Greek,
To shew his wond'rous learning;
Demosthenes he's study'd o'er,
This dubb'd him such an orator,
This made him so discerning.
Trite, common, hackney'd scraps of Greek,
To shew his wond'rous learning;
Demosthenes he's study'd o'er,
This dubb'd him such an orator,
This made him so discerning.
32
Some have by time their natures chang'd,
Their former politics derang'd,
Nor is the fact uncommon;
The names of Whig and Tory end,
Time has made Wilkes a monarch's friend,
And C---n an old woman!!!
Their former politics derang'd,
Nor is the fact uncommon;
The names of Whig and Tory end,
Time has made Wilkes a monarch's friend,
And C---n an old woman!!!
But my tir'd muse can ne'er describe
The whole of P---t's submissive tribe,
Nor will I call for aid;
Oh! may they keep their proper sphere,
Ne'er may the servile crew appear
At Wargrave Masquerade.
The whole of P---t's submissive tribe,
Nor will I call for aid;
Oh! may they keep their proper sphere,
Ne'er may the servile crew appear
At Wargrave Masquerade.
LEGISLATIVE BIOGRAPHY;
OR, AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN THE MERITS AND PRINCIPLES OF THE MOST ADMIRED ORATORS OF THE BRITISH SENATE. BEING INTENDED AS A CONPANION TO THE PARLIAMENTARY REPORTS.
Pulchrum est benefacere Reipublicæ, etiam benedicere haud absurdum est.
Sallust.
Nullus magnum potentiam sine eloquentia est confecutus.
Tacitus.
49
THE LAMENTATIONS OF EDMUND:
Or the Origin of the Long Trial.
WHO but must weep when Worth decays,
And puny boys can tear the bays
From reverend brows like mine?
When Faction has no longer charms,
When Sophistry has lost her arms,
And Truth's yclep'd divine?
And puny boys can tear the bays
From reverend brows like mine?
When Faction has no longer charms,
When Sophistry has lost her arms,
And Truth's yclep'd divine?
Sweet Peace array'd in all thy charms,
Descend to these unhallow'd arms,
And ward th'impending blow;
Curs'd be the hour I ever stray'd,
And left the roseate blooming maid
To wed a life of woe!
Descend to these unhallow'd arms,
And ward th'impending blow;
Curs'd be the hour I ever stray'd,
And left the roseate blooming maid
To wed a life of woe!
50
Ere from thy placid graces torn,
The beauties of the rising morn,
Could Gratitude inspire;
In the calm academic grove.
Attun'd by every social Love,
I swept the obedient lyre.
The beauties of the rising morn,
Could Gratitude inspire;
In the calm academic grove.
Attun'd by every social Love,
I swept the obedient lyre.
Why have I studied long and deep?
And like the Thane have murder'd sleep,
By midnight vigils wasted;
Why have I roam'd thro' classic glades?
And ravish'd the Piërian maids,
And all their beauties tasted?
And like the Thane have murder'd sleep,
By midnight vigils wasted;
Why have I roam'd thro' classic glades?
And ravish'd the Piërian maids,
And all their beauties tasted?
Proud in their congress have I sate,
De Courcy like, ne'er doff'd my hat,
Tho' urg'd by Memory's knocks:
Taught little Clio periods fine,
Adust Melpomene to whine,
And wash'd their Sunday smocks.
De Courcy like, ne'er doff'd my hat,
Tho' urg'd by Memory's knocks:
Taught little Clio periods fine,
Adust Melpomene to whine,
And wash'd their Sunday smocks.
Who the sublime has taught but me,
Or in the metaphysic sea,
Could more exulting lave?
Into the pools of doubt I've dash'd,
And flound'ring 'mid her muds, have splash'd
The feeble, wise, and brave!
Or in the metaphysic sea,
Could more exulting lave?
Into the pools of doubt I've dash'd,
And flound'ring 'mid her muds, have splash'd
The feeble, wise, and brave!
51
Greater or less no Chief has been,—
More black or white no Chief has seen—
I've lick'd meek Portland's dishes,
I've self-sufficient Windham led,
Gave Reynolds fame and Johnson bread,
And realis'd their wishes.
More black or white no Chief has seen—
I've lick'd meek Portland's dishes,
I've self-sufficient Windham led,
Gave Reynolds fame and Johnson bread,
And realis'd their wishes.
If this is being, thus to be,
A Scroyle, less penitent than me,
Would scorn the gift and giver:
Shall every whipster chain me down,
(Promethean curse) to glad the town,
And feed upon my liver?
A Scroyle, less penitent than me,
Would scorn the gift and giver:
Shall every whipster chain me down,
(Promethean curse) to glad the town,
And feed upon my liver?
How have I twisted wrong and right,
Turn'd gleams to gloom, and dark to light,
To waste malignant hours:
Prov'd the strong, weak—the feeble, strong,
The longest, short—the shortest, long:
Yet who requites my powers?
Turn'd gleams to gloom, and dark to light,
To waste malignant hours:
Prov'd the strong, weak—the feeble, strong,
The longest, short—the shortest, long:
Yet who requites my powers?
Rather than hold a life like this,
Unknown to any tiny bliss,
Hang me on Dian's horns:
To taste the madd'ning beam she sheds—
Shall Grenville dance 'mid rosy beds,
While I must limp o'er thorns:
Unknown to any tiny bliss,
Hang me on Dian's horns:
To taste the madd'ning beam she sheds—
Shall Grenville dance 'mid rosy beds,
While I must limp o'er thorns:
52
The Hebrew, craz'd by Rigour's rod,
Pierc'd thro' the wild, and knaw'd the sod;
And crouching fled the Sun!
E'en thus I'll scud from mortal sin,
And purify the man within,
And be another Mun.
Pierc'd thro' the wild, and knaw'd the sod;
And crouching fled the Sun!
E'en thus I'll scud from mortal sin,
And purify the man within,
And be another Mun.
Ah could I cram me like a bomb,
With Cloacina's rankest scum;
As full as Hawksb'ry's cup.
I'd steal by night 'mid Pleasure's throng,
Wait for the zenith of their song,
Then burst and blow them up.
With Cloacina's rankest scum;
As full as Hawksb'ry's cup.
I'd steal by night 'mid Pleasure's throng,
Wait for the zenith of their song,
Then burst and blow them up.
I supplicate each month, each week,
In French, in Latin, Irish, Greek,
Yet none a good supplies:
Say must I die without a groat,
I sometimes think (but what a thought)
No classic's in the skies!
In French, in Latin, Irish, Greek,
Yet none a good supplies:
Say must I die without a groat,
I sometimes think (but what a thought)
No classic's in the skies!
There's Priestley and his carping set,
Who o'er the penal statutes fret,
And kick down saints at Brummigum:
Hell sweat the whining, wriggling crew,
What would they have; they're not true blue:
Oh may the Devil rummage 'em!
Who o'er the penal statutes fret,
And kick down saints at Brummigum:
Hell sweat the whining, wriggling crew,
What would they have; they're not true blue:
Oh may the Devil rummage 'em!
53
The dice of life, like O---ns w's head,
Are loaded with destructive lead;
But Policy ne'er blabs:
Perish such luck!—I'll fire the town,
For drunk or sober, up or down,
I'm always throwing crabs.
Are loaded with destructive lead;
But Policy ne'er blabs:
Perish such luck!—I'll fire the town,
For drunk or sober, up or down,
I'm always throwing crabs.
Like Adam, Y---ke by tempting fell,
Yet G---y laughs; is fat; is well!
No more than this 'twas Cain meant:
Yet I who only bleed rank heirs,
(But do away the crime by prayers)
Have lenten entertainment.
Yet G---y laughs; is fat; is well!
No more than this 'twas Cain meant:
Yet I who only bleed rank heirs,
(But do away the crime by prayers)
Have lenten entertainment.
Ox-cheek that's trebly boil'd I munch,
Old crusts and turkeys' drumsticks crunch,
With aged hens from Bucks;
'Tis true to mend such whoreson fare,
Spousy colcannon will prepare:
But then the merit's Chucks.
Old crusts and turkeys' drumsticks crunch,
With aged hens from Bucks;
'Tis true to mend such whoreson fare,
Spousy colcannon will prepare:
But then the merit's Chucks.
How my chaps water, when I view
Fish, flesh, fowl, venison; sallad too,
Arranged in cookshop larder:
There oft I stand and peep and pray,
And gaze and sigh my soul away:
Are poets' fortunes harder?
Fish, flesh, fowl, venison; sallad too,
Arranged in cookshop larder:
There oft I stand and peep and pray,
And gaze and sigh my soul away:
Are poets' fortunes harder?
54
Big bellied varlets “capon lin'd,”
Parochial dolts, who've laugh'd and din'd,
For dues my door environ;
I'll rush and beg of all I meet,
Or watch the dawn in Oxford-street,
And grope for rags and iron.
Parochial dolts, who've laugh'd and din'd,
For dues my door environ;
I'll rush and beg of all I meet,
Or watch the dawn in Oxford-street,
And grope for rags and iron.
My God! can these be Edmund's legs!
Pray Mrs. B--- are these my pegs?
This comes with being fretted:
I melt like butter near a flame;
The juices have forsook my frame,
And through the surface sweated!
Pray Mrs. B--- are these my pegs?
This comes with being fretted:
I melt like butter near a flame;
The juices have forsook my frame,
And through the surface sweated!
“Meek angels ever bright and fair,”
Take me, Oh take me to your care:
But what am I imploring?
Angels can pay no bills at sight,
Would it were one eternal night,
And all our race were snoring.
Take me, Oh take me to your care:
But what am I imploring?
Angels can pay no bills at sight,
Would it were one eternal night,
And all our race were snoring.
I dream'd that as I slept profound,
Perturbed Boreas wrapt me round,
And fraught my frame to please me;
I feel the god from head to foot,
How the storm rolls from gut to gut!
Oh for a --- to ease me.
Perturbed Boreas wrapt me round,
And fraught my frame to please me;
I feel the god from head to foot,
How the storm rolls from gut to gut!
Oh for a --- to ease me.
55
Charles F---x neglects his stubbled cheek,
St---m---t's no longer's fat and sleek,
And H---w---d's shirt's incrusted!
Moll Brooks, in misery, brandy drinks,
And peery looks through door-made chinks,
To scoff those blades she trusted.
St---m---t's no longer's fat and sleek,
And H---w---d's shirt's incrusted!
Moll Brooks, in misery, brandy drinks,
And peery looks through door-made chinks,
To scoff those blades she trusted.
That Beldam's scor'd me on her slate,
For jellies, drams, and bread and mate:
I see it as I walk:
I'll creep behind her bar-fix'd lad,
Swear that the heart-burn's made me mad,
And lick off all the chalk!
For jellies, drams, and bread and mate:
I see it as I walk:
I'll creep behind her bar-fix'd lad,
Swear that the heart-burn's made me mad,
And lick off all the chalk!
Th---l---e can curse his precious eyes,
And yet the savage ranks as wise:
Though steep'd in fornication:
If I but swear, how prelates bark;
Or get six pen'north in the dark,
'Tis told to all the nation!
And yet the savage ranks as wise:
Though steep'd in fornication:
If I but swear, how prelates bark;
Or get six pen'north in the dark,
'Tis told to all the nation!
My brain is simmering and hot,
Like old Medea's iron pot;
By turns I'm mad or surly:
Ideas with ideas stew,
'Tis all hubbub and hubbaboo,
Chaotic hurly burly.
Like old Medea's iron pot;
By turns I'm mad or surly:
Ideas with ideas stew,
'Tis all hubbub and hubbaboo,
Chaotic hurly burly.
56
Ye Parcæ with your sooty wings,
Descend when Protean Edmund sings,
My honor's on the ebb:
Ye leathern hags come weave the woof,
No more I'll pad my blister'd hoof;
Come fold me in your web.
Descend when Protean Edmund sings,
My honor's on the ebb:
Ye leathern hags come weave the woof,
No more I'll pad my blister'd hoof;
Come fold me in your web.
They say God sits upon the floods,
Breathes in the flame—the earth—the woods,
And rides upon the wind:
Tho' all the elements I know,
They but diversify my woe,
Who God nor good can find!
Breathes in the flame—the earth—the woods,
And rides upon the wind:
Tho' all the elements I know,
They but diversify my woe,
Who God nor good can find!
Ah! what is Fame, seductive sound,
A blast that thunders to confound;
But brings nor pence nor duds:
The knave's ally—the ideot's aid,
A bubble perishably made,
Of washerwomen's suds!
A blast that thunders to confound;
But brings nor pence nor duds:
The knave's ally—the ideot's aid,
A bubble perishably made,
Of washerwomen's suds!
Have not bold caitiffs, erst admir'd,
Berogu'd, bewilder'd, and bemir'd,
By artifice been cheer'd:
Could I not pay the De'el his debt,
Yet by equivocation get
My character fineer'd?
Berogu'd, bewilder'd, and bemir'd,
By artifice been cheer'd:
Could I not pay the De'el his debt,
Yet by equivocation get
My character fineer'd?
57
Weak are those men, to interest blind,
Who narrowing the capacious mind,
In Princes put their trust;
Loyola's sons are bought and sold,
And Verney eats his mutton cold,
And Rockingham is dust.
Who narrowing the capacious mind,
In Princes put their trust;
Loyola's sons are bought and sold,
And Verney eats his mutton cold,
And Rockingham is dust.
But chiefs must moulder in the grave,
Or vicious, noble, mad, or brave,
Who fluttered thro' their day;
Cromwell and Cataline have fell,
Their ears have drank the fatal knell,
And Edmund must be—clay.
Or vicious, noble, mad, or brave,
Who fluttered thro' their day;
Cromwell and Cataline have fell,
Their ears have drank the fatal knell,
And Edmund must be—clay.
Hope, like a wayward northern light,
Cheers and deludes the aching sight.
And plays about the Faction;
She's now with Derby, now with Lee,
Then flits from Montague to me,
Beguiling by attraction!
Cheers and deludes the aching sight.
And plays about the Faction;
She's now with Derby, now with Lee,
Then flits from Montague to me,
Beguiling by attraction!
Sometimes I've thought, like Piedmontese;
We all might stroll, and strolling please:
The trump shall be O Br---ns,
Fitzp---k on the gurdy strum,
Sherry shall chaunt, and Charley drum,
And Francis shew the lions.
We all might stroll, and strolling please:
The trump shall be O Br---ns,
Fitzp---k on the gurdy strum,
Sherry shall chaunt, and Charley drum,
And Francis shew the lions.
58
The minor sprigs may scuffle thro',
Sk---nn---r should pledge his buff and blue,
And C---tn---y aid, who sickens,
Dick B---ck---d may mundungus vend,
T---lt---n great guns; prim Lough his friend,
And Taylor deal in chickens.
Sk---nn---r should pledge his buff and blue,
And C---tn---y aid, who sickens,
Dick B---ck---d may mundungus vend,
T---lt---n great guns; prim Lough his friend,
And Taylor deal in chickens.
I'll Nightman turn and clean the sewers,
(For dirty work I'm his or yours,)
Or Quack and cure sore heads;
Or Mendicant and beg a pass,
Or manufacture plates of brass,
To cover blushing foreheads.
(For dirty work I'm his or yours,)
Or Quack and cure sore heads;
Or Mendicant and beg a pass,
Or manufacture plates of brass,
To cover blushing foreheads.
I've pawn'd my Saints to purchase beef,
(That's the fell cause of all my grief)
They could not bear my pain:
Bruno's in quod, Anne's melted down,
Poor Dominic's in Dublin town,
And Pat's in Leather Lane!
(That's the fell cause of all my grief)
They could not bear my pain:
Bruno's in quod, Anne's melted down,
Poor Dominic's in Dublin town,
And Pat's in Leather Lane!
O Carlo, Declamation's boy!
Her favour'd darling, and her toy,
With cates thy mouth she cramm'd;
But why should I thus sing of him,
Who now is rotting limb by limb,
Politically damn'd?
Her favour'd darling, and her toy,
With cates thy mouth she cramm'd;
But why should I thus sing of him,
Who now is rotting limb by limb,
Politically damn'd?
59
Like a fell'd pine, his massy length,
Stately in death, tho' riv'd of strength,
Thro' half the land extends;
The faded leaves from James's street,
Are blown to Newgate and the Fleet,
And wither mid his friends.
Stately in death, tho' riv'd of strength,
Thro' half the land extends;
The faded leaves from James's street,
Are blown to Newgate and the Fleet,
And wither mid his friends.
—But now a nymph—'twas so decreed,
Descends the miscreant to lead,
Thro' Fortune's miry road;
Her vestment made of varying hue,
Both purple, scarlet, black and blue,
In many a curling flow'd.
Descends the miscreant to lead,
Thro' Fortune's miry road;
Her vestment made of varying hue,
Both purple, scarlet, black and blue,
In many a curling flow'd.
Her silver car was studded o'er,
Which famish'd corm'rants eager bore,
Thro' regions vast to please her;
It's sides Enormity array'd,
On this were Herod's crimes pourtray'd,
On that the fall of Cæsar.
Which famish'd corm'rants eager bore,
Thro' regions vast to please her;
It's sides Enormity array'd,
On this were Herod's crimes pourtray'd,
On that the fall of Cæsar.
Expedience was the Harlot's name,
Equally dear to Fraud and Fame,
For myriads she entices;
Her disposition meek and kind,
It veers with every tyrant's mind,
To sanctify his vices.
Equally dear to Fraud and Fame,
For myriads she entices;
Her disposition meek and kind,
It veers with every tyrant's mind,
To sanctify his vices.
60
She regulates the tides of trade,
And haply has acquaintance made,
'Twixt Noble's necks and axes;
By wily means she wounds her foes,
And oft a minister o'erthrows,
Suggesting tithes and taxes.
And haply has acquaintance made,
'Twixt Noble's necks and axes;
By wily means she wounds her foes,
And oft a minister o'erthrows,
Suggesting tithes and taxes.
Then thus the nymph the wight address'd,
“For shame! no longer be depress'd,
Or sully Common Sense;
But like the Swiss to interest true,
For glory perish or subdue,
And gather in—the pence.
“For shame! no longer be depress'd,
Or sully Common Sense;
But like the Swiss to interest true,
For glory perish or subdue,
And gather in—the pence.
Be sad no more—assuage thy grief,
Behold an oriental Chief,
On him your thunders fling,
Reduce the splendor of his state,
And hurl him from Ambition's height,
As if he were—a King.
Behold an oriental Chief,
On him your thunders fling,
Reduce the splendor of his state,
And hurl him from Ambition's height,
As if he were—a King.
With murder, rapine, death and sin,
Maintain one clam'rous, endless din,
But hide foul Factions tooth;
And so direct the general eye,
That microscopes shall shew the lye,
A telescope the—truth.
Maintain one clam'rous, endless din,
But hide foul Factions tooth;
And so direct the general eye,
That microscopes shall shew the lye,
A telescope the—truth.
61
'Tis yours to find my luckless son,
Not what he did—but left undone,
To fester to a crime;
For Weakness oft leaps Wisdom's fence,
And errors steal upon the sense
Creeping thro' chinks of time.
Not what he did—but left undone,
To fester to a crime;
For Weakness oft leaps Wisdom's fence,
And errors steal upon the sense
Creeping thro' chinks of time.
Nor heed that thro' a course of years,
He liv'd to dry the orphan's tears,
By Indostan caress'd;
Diffusing mercy o'er the soil,
As Albion hail'd the patriot toil,
And, blessing, he was bless'd.
He liv'd to dry the orphan's tears,
By Indostan caress'd;
Diffusing mercy o'er the soil,
As Albion hail'd the patriot toil,
And, blessing, he was bless'd.
Bid Grey and Maitland (peerless peers)
Catch pailfulls of the Begums tears,
And make a bath to swim in:
Let Adam calculate their sighs,
While Norfolk wipes their streaming eyes,
And rubs and scrubs their women.
Catch pailfulls of the Begums tears,
And make a bath to swim in:
Let Adam calculate their sighs,
While Norfolk wipes their streaming eyes,
And rubs and scrubs their women.
Then Plutus shall be all your own;
Then Infamy shall mount the throne,
And Britain's ideots see 'em;
Then Vice shall riot in the isle,
The groves of B---d shall smile,
And Knav'ry sing TE-DEUM.”
Then Infamy shall mount the throne,
And Britain's ideots see 'em;
Then Vice shall riot in the isle,
The groves of B---d shall smile,
And Knav'ry sing TE-DEUM.”
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