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

Distinctly mark'd, among his fellow Clowns,
Not long his Daphne's eyes the dew-drop drowns;
But, as the morning zephyrs blithely pass,
With gliding wing, to wipe the weeping grass,
While fair Aurora gilds the flying glooms,
And, with fresh touches, brightens all the blooms;
So soon the breath of Fame, soft-whispering, bids
To chear her cheeks, and dry her pencil'd lids—

When with new hopes each gladden'd feature glows;
More white the lily looks, more red the rose;
While opening prospects, join'd with present joys,
Struck starry lustre from her azure eyes!

All prompt reports, like village gossips, gad,
Confounding false and true, and good and bad;
Ev'n friendly narratives, thro' notions vague,
Tho' meant for profit, oft become a plague,
When Ignorance, with her wild ideas, warm,
Gives each frail image its most monstrous form.

With rapid progress fly all novel tales,
Thro' hankering villages, on hills and vales;
Where hungry ears, agape, seize every sound
That Rumour's ready pipe dispenses round.
Thus the fair kindness which on Crispin fell,
Fill'd every neighbouring height, and bordering dell,
To fellow Craftsmen soon his Name was known—
His kind Acquaintance wish'd him all their own—
Each fond Relation felt Self somewhat more,
Connected with a Poet, tho' so poor!
While boasting Brethren spread his puny fame,
Vain of Alliance—vainer of the Name.

But while Fame's wide-mouth'd tube, obstreperous, blows,
With files of Friends it calls up corps of Foes—
Envy, and Hatred baneful banners rear,
And clamorous hosts of Pride's recruits appear,
To chase unlisted Youth, whose happier choice,
Quits each vile Comrade in the ranks of Vice;
Whose blinding powder, and dismembering ball,
Stifle fair Fame, and make true Merit fall—
Proclaim their conquest, and exult with joy,
When Virtue staggers, or Deserters die!
If pure Ambition chaunts her votive strain,
Vice toils to render Virtue's labours vain—
Spleen's harsh prophetic speech, pronounc'd by Hate,
With Spite predestinates his future fate—
Mocks each manœuvre—right distorts to wrong—
Degrades God's Soldier, and condemns his Song!

Envy, alike, in Courtier, or in Clown,
When others rise deems idol-Self pull'd down,
All strive, thro' such mistaken, vile, self-love,
To balk bold Minds which mean to mount above:
But Nature's Father, with far nobler plan,
When he infus'd Mind's faculties in Man,
Like other Passions, Pride was meant a spur,
Intended, mainly, mental strength to stir,
With pow'r, exciting, by apt sense of pain,
To fly some evil, or some good to gain—
Not envying others for more fame, or pelf,
But, by fair efforts, to exalt Himself.