The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thus early learn'd this conscientious Youth
Obediently embraced this Test of Truth—
From full conviction view'd the rest as right—
That Heav'n's clear eye still kept his heart in sight—
Beheld each embryo wish that work'd within,
Begot by Grace, or hatch'd by inborn Sin;
And would, when Time had run his shortening race,
Decree his deathless glory, or disgrace!

Tho' female beauty trapp'd his eye, and heart,
The source of many a pleasure! many a smart!
Not those pernicious pleasures frequent found,
Combin'd with grief, on foul, forbidden, ground!
Not devilish joy seducing Villains feel,
Inflicting wounds no time, or drugs, can heal!
Not the licentious Letcher's dire delights,
Whence wasted spirits, pains, and body's blights;
Link'd with keen lashes Conscience still bestows,
When forc'd to feel their own, with others, woes,
When Sickness, Pain, or Misery, sinks the Mind,
Or Age forbodes far bitterer things behind—
No! his prompt pleasures from amusement sprung;
Fancy's free exercise of thought, and tongue;
When he, like all vain Youth, oft, sportive, spoke
Each arch conception, or ingenuous joke.
His pains were those Imagination brings,
When Hope expires, while ardent Passion springs;
Which Love's imprudent darings must endure,
Till Time, and clearer Wisdom work a cure.

With simple views he sought the virtuous Fair,
To lighten labour, and to combat care;
But ne'er with deep dissimulation meant
To stir fond feelings, and destroy content;
While feign'd attention, and false flattery, tried,
To spoil simplicity, or heighten pride—
To wake affection in the female breast,
Then sport with passion by ungen'rous jest;
Nor, to confirm false hopes base treachery strove,
By spurious promises, and vows of Love—
Ne'er aimed their honest chearful hearts to chain,
Or felt a pleasure while they felt a pain;
Much less with cruel Cunning's wildering way,
To gain their confidence and then betray!
With wiley Scoundrel's artful schemes to win,
And tempt their footsteps to the paths of Sin,
Then leave them to the World, without a Friend.
Till shorten'd Life in shame, and misery, end!
Curs'd be the Scoundrel, whatsoe'er his place,
Who sinks his Mate to misery and disgrace.

Before his five-and-twentieth year was o'er,
Heav'n's moral maxims, well-imbib'd before,
Tho' with some whims, and queer conundrums, mixt,
Firm in his head, pure principles had fixt;

Which check'd his wanderings, while in choicest prime,
And kept his conduct free from flagrant crime.
To give each gracious thought still stronger aid,
Religion long had firm foundation laid;
And deep-impress'd her truths, with graving Art;
Like marble mottos, on his Heav'n-touch'd heart.
He thought—and Revelation show'd it just,
That Soul and Body, both, were held in trust;
By God, in grace, and loving-kindness, lent,
To double Man's delights, thro' Life's extent;
While God's free Pow'r, and Goodness, both forbid,
That Body's talents should in Earth be hid.
That would at once destroy the compound plan,
Mark'd out, by Wisdom, for the weal of Man;
And robbing Heav'n of all the honour due,
From Man's immortal Race when rais'd anew.

Nat'ral, and moral, rules, derive their source,
Alike, from Heav'n, and act with equal force—
Ev'n carnal Instinct never acts amiss,
While proper objects yield their proper bliss.
Thus, argueing up from fundamental Truth,
He curb'd the prancings of impetuous Youth;
And while right Reason show'd the fair, and fit,
Conscience, instructed, strain'd the bridling bit;
Lest youthful Fancy should from Duty stray,
And lead Affection in forbidden way.

Blind Appetite and Passion, unrestrain'd,
Oft bound o'er needful barriers, Heav'n ordain'd,
Spurning each pure restraint and social tie,
To compass objects offering ready joy;
Each pious obstacle's trod down, or skipt,
When spurr'd by Pride—by weak Ambition whipt.

He, deeming Heav'n's original decree
Left neither perfect Male, or Female, free,
Judg'd it but just, on that bless'd mandate built,
All deviation grows to dangerous guilt;
And, humbly honouring such sublime behest,
Resolv'd—and left with righteous Heav'n the rest;
Believing all who wisht what Heav'n had will'd,
Would prove each promise faithfully fulfill'd.

But having suffer'd much from false Coquette,
The trammell'd captive of her artful net;
A prison'd slave, without the curse of crime,
Thro' ample period of his youthful prime—
Where love of liberty had struggled long,
With Circe's philtres and frail Syren's song—
Loathing all graceless Flattery's faithless treats;
Empoison'd potions mix'd with mawkish sweets!
Pall'd with weak pleasures, hollow Hope's awards!
Ensnaring smiles—false vows—and feign'd regards!
Determin'd, now, no longer to submit
To treacherous beauty, and all worthless wit;
To sham endearment, or coquettish scoff,
But break his yoke, and tear his fetters off—
Yet, not relinquishing the Lover's name,
A foe to female charms, and Cupid's claim—
Nor, like the Moth, with ever-devious flight,
To sip each honey'd flow'r, with frail delight;
But fully fix'd, with virtuous views, to try
What wedded Love with plighted troth supply;
He wished in faithful Wife a Friend to find,
With pious Truth and genuine Morals join'd;
For Heav'n had made this added maxim known,
“It is not good for Man to be alone.”