The works, in verse and prose, of William Shenstone, Esq ::

How happy once was Damon's lot,
While yet romantic schemes were not!
Ere yet he sent his weakly eyes,
To plan frail castles in the skies;
Forsaking pleasures cheap and common,
To court a blaze, still flitting from one.

Ah happy Damon! thrice and more,
Had taste n'er touch'd thy tranquil shore.

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Oh days! when to a girdle ty'd
The couples jingled at his side;
And Damon swore he would not barter
The sportsman's girdle, for a garter!

Whoever came to kill an hour,
Found easy Damon in their pow'r;
Pure social nature all his guide,
“Damon had not a grain of pride.”

He wish'd not to elude the snares
Which knav'ry plans, and craft prepares;
But rather wealth to crown their wiles;
And win their universal smiles:
For who are chearful, who at ease,
But they who cheat us as they please?

He wink'd at many a gross design,
The new-fall'n calf might countermine:
Thus ev'ry fool allow'd his merit;
“Yes! Damon had a gen'rous spirit!”

A coxcomb's jest, however vile,
Was sure, at least, of Damon's smile:
That coxcomb ne'er deny'd him sense;
For why? it prov'd his own pretence:
All own'd, were modesty away,
Damon cou'd shine as much as they.

When wine and folly came in season,
Damon ne'er strove to save his reason;
Obnoxious to the mad uproar:
A spy upon a hostile shore!
'Twas this his company endear'd:
Mirth never came till he appear'd:

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His lodgings—ev'ry draw'r cou'd shew 'em;
The slave was kick'd, who did not know 'em.

Thus Damon, studious of his ease,
And pleasing all, whom mirth cou'd please;
Defy'd the world, like idle Colley,
To shew a softer word than folly.
Since wisdom's gorgon-shield was known
To stare the gazer into stone;
He chose to trust in folly's charm,
To keep his breast alive and warm.

At length grave learning's sober train
Remark'd the trifler with disdain;
The sons of taste contemn'd his ways,
And rank'd him with the brutes that graze:
While they to nobler heights aspir'd,
And grew belov'd, esteem'd, admir'd.

Hence with our youth, not void of spirit,
His old companions lost their merit:
And ev'ry kind well-natur'd sot
Seem'd a dull play, without a plot;
Where ev'ry yawning guest agrees,
The willing creature strives to please:
But temper never could amuse;
It barely led us to excuse;
'Twas true, conversing they aver'd,
All they had seen, or felt or heard:
Talents of weight! for wights like these,
The law might chuse for witnesses:
But sure th'attesting dry narration
Ill suits a judge of conversation.

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What were their freedoms? mere excuses
To vent ill manners, blows and bruises.
Yet freedom, gallant freedom! hailing,
At form, at form, incessant railing,
Would they examine each offence,
Its latent cause, its known pretence,
Punctilio ne'er was known to breed 'em,
So sure as fond prolific freedom.
Their courage? but a loaded gun;
Machine the wise wou'd wish to shun;
Its guard unsafe, its lock an ill one,
Where accident might fire and kill one.

In short, disgusted out of measure,
Thro' much contempt, and slender pleasure,
His sense of dignity returns;
With native pride his bosom burns;
He seeks respect—but how to gain it?
Wit, social mirth, cou'd ne'er obtain it:
And laughter, where it reigns uncheck'd,
Discards and dissipates respect.
The man who gravely bows, enjoys it;
But shaking hands, at once, destroys it.
Precarious plant, which, fresh and gay,
Shrinks at the touch, and fades away!

Come then, reserve! yet from thy train
Banish contempt, and curst disdain.
Teach me, he cry'd, thy magic art
To act the decent distant part:
To husband well my complaisance,
Nor let ev'n wit too far advance;

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But chuse calm reason for my theme,
In these her royal realms supreme;
And o'er her charms, with caution shewn,
Be still a graceful umbrage thrown;
And each abrupter period crown'd,
With nods, and winks, and smiles profound,
'Till rescu'd from the crowd beneath,
No more with pain to move or breathe,
I rise with head elate, to share
Salubrious draughts of purer air.
Respect is won by grave pretence
And silence, surer ev'n than sense—

'Tis hence the sacred grandeur springs
Of Eastern—and of other kings,
Or whence this awe to virtue due,
While virtue's distant a Peru?
The sheathless sword the guard displays,
Which round emits its dazzling rays:
The stately fort, the turrets tall,
Portcullis'd gate, and battled wall,
Less screens the body, than controuls,
And wards contempt from royal souls.

The crowns they wear but check the eye,
Before it fondly pierce too nigh;
That dazzled crowds may be employ'd
Around the surface of—the void.
O! 'tis the statesman's craft profound
To scatter his amusements round;
To tempt us from their conscious breast,
Where full-fledg'd crimes enjoy their nest.

260

Nor awes us every worth reveal'd
So deeply, as each vice conceal'd.

The lordly log, dispatch'd of yore,
That the frog people might adore,
With guards to keep them at a distance,
Had reign'd, nor wanted wit's assistance:
Nay—had addresses from his nation,
In praise of log-administration.

Boisterous mirth.

University of Virginia Library

2. PART the SECOND.