 | An Epistle to David Garrick |  |
5
EPISTLE TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
When from his dewy Throne, and pensile Bowers,
To the green Lap of Earth in genial Show'rs
Prolific Jove descends, all Germens spring,
Blythe are the Mountains, and the Vallies sing;
Benignant Nature smiles, and breathes perfume,
And all around is Paradise in bloom!
But 'tis on gen'ral Laws the God proceeds,
And, Flow'rs first cherish'd, not forgets the Weeds.
While Sharon's Roses purple o'er the Land,
The barren Thistle feels his fost'ring hand.
To the green Lap of Earth in genial Show'rs
Prolific Jove descends, all Germens spring,
Blythe are the Mountains, and the Vallies sing;
Benignant Nature smiles, and breathes perfume,
And all around is Paradise in bloom!
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And, Flow'rs first cherish'd, not forgets the Weeds.
While Sharon's Roses purple o'er the Land,
The barren Thistle feels his fost'ring hand.
In these enlighten'd days, not less benign
The Sun of Learning deigns on all to shine;
With gen'rous Warmth it nourishes the root
Of Genius, ripening into classic Fruit;
In wasteful bounty too its beams are spread
O'er the dry region of a Dunce's head.
Those Summer rays that nectar'd Grapes produce,
Concoct the Hemlock's deleterious juice;
So that bright Sun, prime Nourisher of Wit,
Which burns in Burke, in Lyttelton, and Pitt,
Obliquely glances on the leaden Pate
Of ev'ry babbling Blockhead of the State.
The Sun of Learning deigns on all to shine;
With gen'rous Warmth it nourishes the root
Of Genius, ripening into classic Fruit;
In wasteful bounty too its beams are spread
O'er the dry region of a Dunce's head.
Those Summer rays that nectar'd Grapes produce,
Concoct the Hemlock's deleterious juice;
So that bright Sun, prime Nourisher of Wit,
Which burns in Burke, in Lyttelton, and Pitt,
Obliquely glances on the leaden Pate
Of ev'ry babbling Blockhead of the State.
7
Many and great the Evils which have flow'd
From Blessings thus promiscuously bestow'd!
Oft have we seen with grief the blushing Rose
By pois'nous Neighbours mildew'd as it blows;
As often Genius in its vernal Bloom,
From Envy's Blight receives untimely Doom.
From Blessings thus promiscuously bestow'd!
Oft have we seen with grief the blushing Rose
By pois'nous Neighbours mildew'd as it blows;
As often Genius in its vernal Bloom,
From Envy's Blight receives untimely Doom.
Among proverbial Saws by Wisdom seal'd,
Which by Truth's Oracles have been reveal'd,
Be this recorded—for 'tis Nature's Law—
Fairness will Foulness ever to it draw;
While Lust or Envy urge, with equal joy,
The Fiend to ravish Beauty, or destroy.
Which by Truth's Oracles have been reveal'd,
Be this recorded—for 'tis Nature's Law—
Fairness will Foulness ever to it draw;
While Lust or Envy urge, with equal joy,
The Fiend to ravish Beauty, or destroy.
To find in this the Depth of Heav'n's Design,
For Metaphysic Heads be left—not mine.
Essences, Causes, Substance, Entity,
Be theirs—the beaten track of Facts for me.
Let us, my Roscius, freely let us rove
Thro' Flora's gay Parterre, or thro' the Grove
Where 'midst her mellow Clusters brooding's seen
Pomona, fruitful Mother, Autumn's Queen;
Where'er the Garden's winding leads our feet,
Proofs of my Text on ev'ry Plant we meet.
Or shou'd we range to City, Court, or Vale,
No Spot we find, where new Examples fail.
For Metaphysic Heads be left—not mine.
Essences, Causes, Substance, Entity,
Be theirs—the beaten track of Facts for me.
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Thro' Flora's gay Parterre, or thro' the Grove
Where 'midst her mellow Clusters brooding's seen
Pomona, fruitful Mother, Autumn's Queen;
Where'er the Garden's winding leads our feet,
Proofs of my Text on ev'ry Plant we meet.
Or shou'd we range to City, Court, or Vale,
No Spot we find, where new Examples fail.
Upon the fairest fruit Banditties throng
Of Wasps, who sing and riot while they wrong,
The downy Peach, the bloom-suffused Plumb
Proclaim their wrongs with bleeding mouths tho' dumb;
The deep intrenchment on the luscious Pear
Shews that some greedy Spoiler has been there.
Attentive let us view this pearly Rose
Its Virgin Beauties to the Morn disclose;
Its clasping foliage open'd to the Light,
Green-coated Gnats, almost too small for Sight,
Swarm Myriads-thick, like motes in solar ray,
On embrio Buds, and infant Leaves to prey.
Of Wasps, who sing and riot while they wrong,
The downy Peach, the bloom-suffused Plumb
Proclaim their wrongs with bleeding mouths tho' dumb;
The deep intrenchment on the luscious Pear
Shews that some greedy Spoiler has been there.
Attentive let us view this pearly Rose
Its Virgin Beauties to the Morn disclose;
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Green-coated Gnats, almost too small for Sight,
Swarm Myriads-thick, like motes in solar ray,
On embrio Buds, and infant Leaves to prey.
The World of Letters more prepost'rous still,
Is but one Scene of Good pursu'd by Ill.
Dunces, like Owls, can only bear the Night,
No Crime so great with them, as being bright.
Genius and Parts to dullness give Offence,
And Blockheads hunt them down in Self-defence.
Is but one Scene of Good pursu'd by Ill.
Dunces, like Owls, can only bear the Night,
No Crime so great with them, as being bright.
Genius and Parts to dullness give Offence,
And Blockheads hunt them down in Self-defence.
When Junius, bright with all Apollo's rays,
Beams on the Town a more than common Blaze,
All Grub-Street's up in Arms! its reptile breed
Of Worms that spell, and some that almost read,
Among the Laurels crawl which round him twine,
And all their Pow'rs to canker them combine;
But chief th' Arch-Critic Caterpillar—He
So fam'd for Pride, long Words, and Pedantry!
A thousand feet to move his vast Weight strive,
A thousand feet! and half of them alive!
But strive in vain! tho' on each foot the spur
Of Envy goads th' unwieldy Worm to stir;
Too little all to speed him on his way,
Tho' all his hairs have Stomach for the Prey.
A Pension now her golden Charms displays,
The Siren conquers, and old Grub obeys.
A Pension (and what cannot Pensions do?)
Proclaim'd for him who shall this Foe subdue,
Draws the long Reptile forth the War to meet,
A Task too mighty for a thousand Feet!
Onward he crawleth, like a gouty Snail,
Cowards to fight, or Felons to a jail.
“Vengeance is mine—th' Exchequer will repay,—”
“And Vengeance shall be surfeited to day—
“My Troop of Feet shall wade thro' Junius' Blood,
“And N--- triumphant stem the Crimson Flood.”
—So vaunts old Grub—but all his menac'd harm
Ends in the Nothing of a False Alarm.
Th' illustrious foe he slavers with his Bile,
But acts, poor Worm! the Viper and the File.
Beams on the Town a more than common Blaze,
All Grub-Street's up in Arms! its reptile breed
Of Worms that spell, and some that almost read,
Among the Laurels crawl which round him twine,
And all their Pow'rs to canker them combine;
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So fam'd for Pride, long Words, and Pedantry!
A thousand feet to move his vast Weight strive,
A thousand feet! and half of them alive!
But strive in vain! tho' on each foot the spur
Of Envy goads th' unwieldy Worm to stir;
Too little all to speed him on his way,
Tho' all his hairs have Stomach for the Prey.
A Pension now her golden Charms displays,
The Siren conquers, and old Grub obeys.
A Pension (and what cannot Pensions do?)
Proclaim'd for him who shall this Foe subdue,
Draws the long Reptile forth the War to meet,
A Task too mighty for a thousand Feet!
Onward he crawleth, like a gouty Snail,
Cowards to fight, or Felons to a jail.
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“And Vengeance shall be surfeited to day—
“My Troop of Feet shall wade thro' Junius' Blood,
“And N--- triumphant stem the Crimson Flood.”
—So vaunts old Grub—but all his menac'd harm
Ends in the Nothing of a False Alarm.
Th' illustrious foe he slavers with his Bile,
But acts, poor Worm! the Viper and the File.
When in the brilliant Circle of St. James,
Amelia's Beauties set the Court in Flames;
The Macaroni Butterflies beset
This Flow'r so fair, and wou'd without regret
Its whiteness blot, but Nature gave these Things
No pow'r to stain, except their mealy Wings.
Amelia's Beauties set the Court in Flames;
The Macaroni Butterflies beset
This Flow'r so fair, and wou'd without regret
Its whiteness blot, but Nature gave these Things
No pow'r to stain, except their mealy Wings.
Say then, my Roscius, while Apollo's Hand
Around your Temples twines a verdant Band,
Wou'd You excepted be from Nature's Law,
Retain your Honours, and no Envy draw?
Wou'd You the Muses should your Genius clasp,
And shine Parnassus' Pride without a Wasp?
Around your Temples twines a verdant Band,
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Retain your Honours, and no Envy draw?
Wou'd You the Muses should your Genius clasp,
And shine Parnassus' Pride without a Wasp?
Can You, I know you cannot, think it fair
To be Melpomene's, Thalia's Heir,
To revel in the favours of the Nine,
And wear the Wreathe, which they unite to twine,
From the coy Maids be favor'd with a kiss,
Feel the warm raptures of Pierian Bliss,
And yet forbid that Envy's Snakes shou'd hiss?
While on a Sea of Glory thus You swim,
And Pleasure flows in Tides that drown the Brim,
Shall not the outcast floundering on the Beach,
Malign those Blessings which he cannot reach?
Conscience, good Roscius—Nature must prevail,
And 'tis the Wretch's privilege to rail.
To be Melpomene's, Thalia's Heir,
To revel in the favours of the Nine,
And wear the Wreathe, which they unite to twine,
From the coy Maids be favor'd with a kiss,
Feel the warm raptures of Pierian Bliss,
And yet forbid that Envy's Snakes shou'd hiss?
While on a Sea of Glory thus You swim,
And Pleasure flows in Tides that drown the Brim,
Shall not the outcast floundering on the Beach,
Malign those Blessings which he cannot reach?
Conscience, good Roscius—Nature must prevail,
And 'tis the Wretch's privilege to rail.
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What is't to You, tho' spleen-struck Bards prepare,
And for the Worth that hurts them spread the Snare?
From Dungeons dark and deep their Vipers call,
Warm at their Heart, and feed them with their Gall;
Give the sweet Creatures, like a fondling Nurse,
Envy's Panado, and the Pap of Curse,
Till with recruited Venom strong they feel,
Then turn them loose at your Mercurial heel,
What is't to You?—You still may laugh and sing,
Despise the reptiles, and defy their sting.
What tho' upon the Temple's sacred Walls,
Brothel-Obscenity each Miscreant scrawls,
Can such blaspheming documents of Sin,
Pollute the Altar's Purity within?
And for the Worth that hurts them spread the Snare?
From Dungeons dark and deep their Vipers call,
Warm at their Heart, and feed them with their Gall;
Give the sweet Creatures, like a fondling Nurse,
Envy's Panado, and the Pap of Curse,
Till with recruited Venom strong they feel,
Then turn them loose at your Mercurial heel,
What is't to You?—You still may laugh and sing,
Despise the reptiles, and defy their sting.
What tho' upon the Temple's sacred Walls,
Brothel-Obscenity each Miscreant scrawls,
Can such blaspheming documents of Sin,
Pollute the Altar's Purity within?
While Envy's fever burns, the raving Bard
What or 'gainst whom he writes pays no regard,
With venom'd Heart he paints the vilest Crime
In vilest Words, and in the vilest Rhime;
Delirious runs about the crowded streets,
And turns to Pasquin's Statue all he meets.
His Glass inverts each object that he sees,
Tears from their Earth-bound roots the firmest Trees,
The Top to Base converting—with a Toss
St. Paul's it fixes on its golden Cross;
Makes topsy-turvy Tumblers upright tread,
Bishops and Judges walk upon their Head:
View'd thro' his Glass the Eye of Heav'n's not bright,
But from the Glow-worm's tail should borrow Light;
And if we judge by his reversing rule,
A Blockhead Lowth, and Shipley is a Fool;
Shakespeare wants Nature, learned Johnson Art,
Brutus and Wilkes a patriotic Heart:
A driv'ling Stammerer, no better, Pitt,
And You to cry fresh Oysters scarcely fit—
—At Merit thus his giddy Censures fly,
Till in the Flame of Truth, like Moths, they die.
What or 'gainst whom he writes pays no regard,
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In vilest Words, and in the vilest Rhime;
Delirious runs about the crowded streets,
And turns to Pasquin's Statue all he meets.
His Glass inverts each object that he sees,
Tears from their Earth-bound roots the firmest Trees,
The Top to Base converting—with a Toss
St. Paul's it fixes on its golden Cross;
Makes topsy-turvy Tumblers upright tread,
Bishops and Judges walk upon their Head:
View'd thro' his Glass the Eye of Heav'n's not bright,
But from the Glow-worm's tail should borrow Light;
And if we judge by his reversing rule,
A Blockhead Lowth, and Shipley is a Fool;
Shakespeare wants Nature, learned Johnson Art,
Brutus and Wilkes a patriotic Heart:
15
And You to cry fresh Oysters scarcely fit—
—At Merit thus his giddy Censures fly,
Till in the Flame of Truth, like Moths, they die.
Among the various Blessings Mortals know,
A worthy Friend we place, and worthless Foe;
No key a Character more truly shews,
Than rolls authentic both of Friends and Foes.
When with a Pen that blunts the Tooth of Time,
And gives to Merit everlasting Prime,
Some future Plutarch, great High priest of Fame,
In her eternal Dome inscribes thy Name,
And decks it with such Plenitude of Praise,
That thy Shade almost bends beneath the Bays,
Wou'd'st Thou he shou'd a Nettle 'mong them blend,
And damn thy Fame with—Bavius was his Friend?
A worthy Friend we place, and worthless Foe;
No key a Character more truly shews,
Than rolls authentic both of Friends and Foes.
When with a Pen that blunts the Tooth of Time,
And gives to Merit everlasting Prime,
Some future Plutarch, great High priest of Fame,
In her eternal Dome inscribes thy Name,
And decks it with such Plenitude of Praise,
That thy Shade almost bends beneath the Bays,
Wou'd'st Thou he shou'd a Nettle 'mong them blend,
And damn thy Fame with—Bavius was his Friend?
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But let not Anger, hasty Judge, decree
That all he did was done in Enmity;
To Candour's Eye another look it wears,
Ill-Blood perhaps, and not Ill-Will he bears;
His Verse may be the Strangury of Wit,
And when the Rym'ster's in the burning Fit,
'Tis writhing, straining, grunting, Groan, and Grin,
Dæmoniac Symptoms of the Fiend within;
Hard! after all his Pangs and Throes, to think
No drop of Wit was voided in his Ink!
Wit or no Wit, he'll Satires write and write,
Altho' he spoils this pretty Maxim by't,
That all he did was done in Enmity;
To Candour's Eye another look it wears,
Ill-Blood perhaps, and not Ill-Will he bears;
His Verse may be the Strangury of Wit,
And when the Rym'ster's in the burning Fit,
'Tis writhing, straining, grunting, Groan, and Grin,
Dæmoniac Symptoms of the Fiend within;
Hard! after all his Pangs and Throes, to think
No drop of Wit was voided in his Ink!
Wit or no Wit, he'll Satires write and write,
Altho' he spoils this pretty Maxim by't,
“It's proper Pow'r to hurt each Creature feels,
“Bulls aim their Horns, and Asses lift their Heels.”
A simple Truth in Nature's earlier Day,
And Man, Bird, Beast, each prov'd it in his way;
Now the Reverse may be as truly said,
Bavius the Ass assails us with his Head,
The Length of Ear that slouches from his Scull,
For Horns he takes, and butts like baited Bull.
Tho' all his fancied terrors shou'd be sped
With tenfold Rage at thy devoted Head,
Envy's Career unheeded let him run—
—A Pigmy's Breath cannot blow out the Sun—
“Bulls aim their Horns, and Asses lift their Heels.”
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And Man, Bird, Beast, each prov'd it in his way;
Now the Reverse may be as truly said,
Bavius the Ass assails us with his Head,
The Length of Ear that slouches from his Scull,
For Horns he takes, and butts like baited Bull.
Tho' all his fancied terrors shou'd be sped
With tenfold Rage at thy devoted Head,
Envy's Career unheeded let him run—
—A Pigmy's Breath cannot blow out the Sun—
Among the thousand Gifts on Men bestow'd,
Though precious all, and worthy of a God,
Supremely gracious is the firm defence
Of Consciousness, assign'd to Innocence—
Secure in this impenetrable Shield,
'Gainst the World's Malice Virtue takes the Field.
Legions of Dev'ls, with Satan at their head,
Or his Lieutenant Mendax in his Stead,
Their fiery Darts may hurl with fruitless Aim,
Upon her Ægis dies each pointed Flame.
How firm this moral Shield your Bosom knew,
When Slander's Quiver was discharged at You.
Though precious all, and worthy of a God,
Supremely gracious is the firm defence
Of Consciousness, assign'd to Innocence—
Secure in this impenetrable Shield,
'Gainst the World's Malice Virtue takes the Field.
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Or his Lieutenant Mendax in his Stead,
Their fiery Darts may hurl with fruitless Aim,
Upon her Ægis dies each pointed Flame.
How firm this moral Shield your Bosom knew,
When Slander's Quiver was discharged at You.
If on a Master-work of Genius bent,
Nature her choicest Qualities has lent,
The Body form'd of Elements so wrought
As almost give the faculty of Thought,
The Soul with ev'ry Touch of ev'ry Mind,
Impress'd so true, he is himself Mankind:
When this accomplish'd Legate's sent to teach
Our Hearts to feel, what Precept cannot reach,
While more Distress than real Suff'rings shew,
His feeling Soul sustains from fabled Woe,
Shou'd peevish Fate, grown envious of his Fame,
It's Arrows point or at his Life or Name,
Where shall a Medicine so rare be found,
Of pow'r to salve the rankling of the Wound,
And soothe the Heart, to bleed for others prone,
But bleeding now with Sorrows of its own?
Doubly nectareous should the Verse distill,
In Streams melodious each poetic Rill
Shou'd num'rous flow, to give Lethæan rest
To the perturbed Spirit in his Breast;
But Guilt can never into Peace be sung,
Tho' with Apollo's Hair the Lyre were strung—
While Innocence not needs a Balm, like Sin,
And You that conscious Witness bear within!
Nature her choicest Qualities has lent,
The Body form'd of Elements so wrought
As almost give the faculty of Thought,
The Soul with ev'ry Touch of ev'ry Mind,
Impress'd so true, he is himself Mankind:
When this accomplish'd Legate's sent to teach
Our Hearts to feel, what Precept cannot reach,
While more Distress than real Suff'rings shew,
His feeling Soul sustains from fabled Woe,
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It's Arrows point or at his Life or Name,
Where shall a Medicine so rare be found,
Of pow'r to salve the rankling of the Wound,
And soothe the Heart, to bleed for others prone,
But bleeding now with Sorrows of its own?
Doubly nectareous should the Verse distill,
In Streams melodious each poetic Rill
Shou'd num'rous flow, to give Lethæan rest
To the perturbed Spirit in his Breast;
But Guilt can never into Peace be sung,
Tho' with Apollo's Hair the Lyre were strung—
While Innocence not needs a Balm, like Sin,
And You that conscious Witness bear within!
Pleasant! to see how Envy's Self-defeat
Turns into Favour, what was done in hate!
The Nettles which she plants convert to Bays,
For Envy's Slander “is a kind of Praise.”
The Grubstreet Laureate brands each honour'd Name
With yours, and thus reviles You into Fame.
A fellow-feeling spares the dim and dark,
And shining Merit's the devoted Mark,
At which he levels his envenom'd Darts;
Shew him but “Men of choice and rarest Parts,
“That each Particular of Duty know,”
That each Particular of Duty do;
Who Pillars to their Country daily prove,
And as they best deserve, enjoy its Love:
A Pair distinguish'd thus, whenever seen
By Zoilus, throws the Wretch into the Spleen;
His Talent at mistaking Good for Evil,
In this a Fool, in that discerns a Dev'l.
Turns into Favour, what was done in hate!
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For Envy's Slander “is a kind of Praise.”
The Grubstreet Laureate brands each honour'd Name
With yours, and thus reviles You into Fame.
A fellow-feeling spares the dim and dark,
And shining Merit's the devoted Mark,
At which he levels his envenom'd Darts;
Shew him but “Men of choice and rarest Parts,
“That each Particular of Duty know,”
That each Particular of Duty do;
Who Pillars to their Country daily prove,
And as they best deserve, enjoy its Love:
A Pair distinguish'd thus, whenever seen
By Zoilus, throws the Wretch into the Spleen;
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In this a Fool, in that discerns a Dev'l.
Forgive the Muse that labours to adorn
Your Head with Roses, if she add a Thorn,
If with a gentle Hand one Fault she chide,
One Giant Fault which Friendship cannot hide!
Audacious Garrick! in these touchy times,
Where airy Dreams 'gainst Majesty are Crimes;
What more than Cromwell's Fire cou'd Thee impell,
'Gainst FLEET-DITCH' jus stercoreum to rebell?
That ancient Kingdom still maintains its Sway,
And now is guarded by a covered way.
Its Monarch, seated on a Throne of Mud,
Tribute receives from the polluted Flood;
From Scavengers, his Treas'ry Lords, he takes
Custom of common Sew'rs, and Toll of Jakes;
His Claim to these his Writings all declare,
And leave to Cloacine a second share.
When this beluted Prince politely begs
Your kind Acceptance of some rotten Eggs,
Filth of all Sorts, and to improve their Sweets,
Adds the rich Sweepings of Gomorrha's Streets;
Shall thy fastidious Spirit dare refuse,
And both the Giver and the Gift misuse?
His well-bred Courtesy disdainful spurn,
And talk of Pillory as the Return?
—Ungrateful Garrick!—but 'tis Time to breathe,
And ere more Ink is shed, the Quill to sheathe—
Soft ye—the Muse must now (her Letter penn'd)
Like other Ladies with a Postscript end;
Like other Ladies place the Bus'ness there,
As stoutest Soldiers fortify the Rear.
Your Head with Roses, if she add a Thorn,
If with a gentle Hand one Fault she chide,
One Giant Fault which Friendship cannot hide!
Audacious Garrick! in these touchy times,
Where airy Dreams 'gainst Majesty are Crimes;
What more than Cromwell's Fire cou'd Thee impell,
'Gainst FLEET-DITCH' jus stercoreum to rebell?
That ancient Kingdom still maintains its Sway,
And now is guarded by a covered way.
Its Monarch, seated on a Throne of Mud,
Tribute receives from the polluted Flood;
From Scavengers, his Treas'ry Lords, he takes
Custom of common Sew'rs, and Toll of Jakes;
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And leave to Cloacine a second share.
When this beluted Prince politely begs
Your kind Acceptance of some rotten Eggs,
Filth of all Sorts, and to improve their Sweets,
Adds the rich Sweepings of Gomorrha's Streets;
Shall thy fastidious Spirit dare refuse,
And both the Giver and the Gift misuse?
His well-bred Courtesy disdainful spurn,
And talk of Pillory as the Return?
—Ungrateful Garrick!—but 'tis Time to breathe,
And ere more Ink is shed, the Quill to sheathe—
Soft ye—the Muse must now (her Letter penn'd)
Like other Ladies with a Postscript end;
Like other Ladies place the Bus'ness there,
As stoutest Soldiers fortify the Rear.
The Reader is desired to observe, that Dr. Samuel Johnson is not meant here—but Old Ben—as the Author would hold himself inexcusable if he was capable of bringing the former into Shakespeare's Company, since the publication of his Edition of that immortal Bard.
Ut, quo quisque valet suspectos terreat, utque
Imperat hoc Natura potens, sic collige mecum,
Dente lupus, cornu taurus petit—
Imperat hoc Natura potens, sic collige mecum,
Dente lupus, cornu taurus petit—
Hor. Lib. ii. Sat. 1. See Pope's Imitation.
If the whole Poem was not execrably dull, and offensively dirty, the Reader would be desired to peruse the wretched Lines, together with the injudicious and illiberal Notes, in Love in the Suds, on those eminent Barristers, John Dunning and James Mansfield, Esqrs.
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POSTSCRIPT.
Once when the Fire-ey'd Regent of the Day,
From Sirius shot to Earth a fervid Ray,
The puny fluttering Insects of the Shade,
Too weak to bear the radiant God display'd,
A joint Remonstrance buzz'd—and to the Sky
Sent their high Wills by the Recorder-Fly;
“Call forth thick Clouds this Fervour to abate,
“There's no enduring such transcendent Heat.—”
The pert Demand of the remonstrant Fly,
Drew from the God a Smile, and this Reply—
“—Flutter your Hour when to the West I'm gone,
“But pray, great Sir, excuse my shining on.—”
From Sirius shot to Earth a fervid Ray,
The puny fluttering Insects of the Shade,
Too weak to bear the radiant God display'd,
A joint Remonstrance buzz'd—and to the Sky
Sent their high Wills by the Recorder-Fly;
“Call forth thick Clouds this Fervour to abate,
“There's no enduring such transcendent Heat.—”
The pert Demand of the remonstrant Fly,
Drew from the God a Smile, and this Reply—
“—Flutter your Hour when to the West I'm gone,
“But pray, great Sir, excuse my shining on.—”
So Thou, bright Son of Merit, and of Fame,
While thy Meridian darts its wonted Flame,
Scorching the Eyes of literary Gnats,
Theatric Beetles, and be-doctor'd Bats,
Let these obscene dim Children of the Night,
Their Malice club to execrate thy Light,
Regardless of the Darklings, be it Thine,
With undiminish'd Lustre still to Shine.
While thy Meridian darts its wonted Flame,
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Theatric Beetles, and be-doctor'd Bats,
Let these obscene dim Children of the Night,
Their Malice club to execrate thy Light,
Regardless of the Darklings, be it Thine,
With undiminish'd Lustre still to Shine.
FINIS.
| An Epistle to David Garrick | |