On Novelty and on Trifles, and Triflers. Poetical Amusements at a Villa near Bath [by Lady Anne Miller] |
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 | On Novelty |  |
“Short is the Date, alas, of modern Rhymes!
“And 'tis but just to let them live betimes.”
Pope's Essay on Criticism.
“And 'tis but just to let them live betimes.”
Pope's Essay on Criticism.
1
NOVELTY:
AN IRREGULAR ESSAY.
The Sun — (to use a Classic Notion)
Has daily left and sought the Ocean—
(Like Flying-Fish which upwards springs
To skim awhile on Pinions light,
But dips again to wet his Wings
Before he takes another Flight)
Has yearly driven through all the Signs,
With which Earth's painted Girdle shines—
Making Vicissitudes of Weather,
That Englishmen—may talk together.
Yet still to those who strictly view,
In all this Change there's Nothing New;
The self-same Chimes for ever ring,
Of Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
So in the moral World of Man
A few strong Outlines mark the Plan:
Young States by active Councils rise,
While poor and persecuted — wise;
Commerce and Conquest thence accruing,
They shine in Fame and Wealth awhile
(Just like a certain happy Isle)
Then sink in Luxury and Ruin.
On ancient Story if we look
These are the Sections of the Book;
And those who write for future Ages,
Will doubtless thus divide their Pages.
Has daily left and sought the Ocean—
(Like Flying-Fish which upwards springs
To skim awhile on Pinions light,
But dips again to wet his Wings
Before he takes another Flight)
2
With which Earth's painted Girdle shines—
Making Vicissitudes of Weather,
That Englishmen—may talk together.
Yet still to those who strictly view,
In all this Change there's Nothing New;
The self-same Chimes for ever ring,
Of Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
So in the moral World of Man
A few strong Outlines mark the Plan:
Young States by active Councils rise,
While poor and persecuted — wise;
Commerce and Conquest thence accruing,
They shine in Fame and Wealth awhile
(Just like a certain happy Isle)
Then sink in Luxury and Ruin.
3
These are the Sections of the Book;
And those who write for future Ages,
Will doubtless thus divide their Pages.
The Life of Man, too, has been found
To run in one unvaried Round;
Childhood, Youth, Manhood, Age, revolve,
Till Time and Death our Frame dissolve!
While in each Stage th'attentive Mind
Sees certain gen'ral Marks that strike it,
Marks that extend to all the Kind,
For which—see Shakespeare's—As you like it.
To run in one unvaried Round;
Childhood, Youth, Manhood, Age, revolve,
Till Time and Death our Frame dissolve!
While in each Stage th'attentive Mind
Sees certain gen'ral Marks that strike it,
Marks that extend to all the Kind,
For which—see Shakespeare's—As you like it.
If thus o'er gen'ral Lines we run,
There's Nothing New beneath the Sun;
But single Facts are still precarious,
And Life's Events for ever various.
Thus in one Day 'twill shine and pour
By Fits, which ne'er occurr'd before:—
Thus States—the same in Pow'rs and Factions—
Pursue their Fate by diff'rent actions:—
Thus there was never under Heaven,
A Year like this of seventy-seven!
So, though a certain Set of Features
Are common to all Human Creatures,
Yet still we see, in public Places,
Endless Variety of Faces;
Some with new Ugliness Dame Nature arms;—
Like Weld and Powis some—with Novelty of Charms.
There's Nothing New beneath the Sun;
4
And Life's Events for ever various.
Thus in one Day 'twill shine and pour
By Fits, which ne'er occurr'd before:—
Thus States—the same in Pow'rs and Factions—
Pursue their Fate by diff'rent actions:—
Thus there was never under Heaven,
A Year like this of seventy-seven!
So, though a certain Set of Features
Are common to all Human Creatures,
Yet still we see, in public Places,
Endless Variety of Faces;
Some with new Ugliness Dame Nature arms;—
Like Weld and Powis some—with Novelty of Charms.
5
Hence Novelty maintains her Pow'r
To please or wound us every Hour.
Mother of Fashion—she prescribes
New Laws to all the sportive Tribes.
Now bids the Hair in Ringlets twine,
Like Tendrils of the wanton Vine;
Now piles it up with Wool and Feather,
To combat with the Wind and Weather—
For Ancient were to Modern People,
Like Grecian Dome to Gothic Steeple.
'Tis Novelty prescribes to Taste
Unbending Stays—so closely lac'd,
That Virgin fair in hoop'd Apparel,
Looks like a Funnel in a Barrel.
At Bath her potent Lessons school us
To let Two Kings of Brentford rule us;
Two Pow'rs arise from Nash's Tomb,
(As Consuls from the Kings of Rome)
Because we scorn the beaten Path—
“For Novelty's the Soul of Bath.”
Though partial She, whose Gifts we feast on,
Keeps her best Stores to deck Bath-Easton.
To please or wound us every Hour.
Mother of Fashion—she prescribes
New Laws to all the sportive Tribes.
Now bids the Hair in Ringlets twine,
Like Tendrils of the wanton Vine;
Now piles it up with Wool and Feather,
To combat with the Wind and Weather—
For Ancient were to Modern People,
Like Grecian Dome to Gothic Steeple.
'Tis Novelty prescribes to Taste
Unbending Stays—so closely lac'd,
That Virgin fair in hoop'd Apparel,
Looks like a Funnel in a Barrel.
At Bath her potent Lessons school us
To let Two Kings of Brentford rule us;
6
(As Consuls from the Kings of Rome)
Because we scorn the beaten Path—
“For Novelty's the Soul of Bath.”
Though partial She, whose Gifts we feast on,
Keeps her best Stores to deck Bath-Easton.
But not alone the Goddess wills
To froth the Cup that Pleasure fills,
Malicious oft her Fingers throw
New Bitters in the Draught of Woe.
Oft when the love-sick Youth
Has given to her his Soul ador'd
His Love sincere—his plighted Word—
And felt his Heart exult in conscious Truth!
While all unweening that, the smiling Dame
Would feign, if none she felt, the mutual Flame;
He has beheld, with fond—distemper'd Sight,
The floating—air-drawn Visions of Delight,
Long Scenes of Joy—and Days with Rapture bright!
Ev'n then—Despair has seiz'd his Heart!—
And Disappointment's grim Array
The flatt'ring Phantoms chas'd away:—
Then Novelty envenom'd ev'ry Dart!—
For had he learn'd by slow Degrees
That he must cease e'er long to please,
Some Safeguard to his Breast had then been found,
Or he had stood prepar'd to meet the Wound;
But barb'd by Novelty the Arrow flies—
And while it rankles it in his Heart—He dies!
But speed my Muse on Cupid's Plumes,
And hov'ring o'er the crouded Rooms,
Bid ev'ry blushing Nymph beware
Of Novelty's delusive Glare.
The Tints of Heav'n's refulgent Bow
She varies to amuse the Eye,
But sweeter is the modest Glow
Of Constancy's unclouded Sky.
The radiant Bow dissolves in Rain—
And Novelty is bought with Pain:
But azure Skies maintain their Hue—
And so does constant Passion too!—
No Dew so soft from Heav'n descends,
On Novelty's enchanted Bow'rs—
As Tears that Rapture steals from constant Eyes!
And Spring no breathing Zephyr sends,
To fan her Wreaths of gaudy Flow'rs,
So gentle—as Affection's Bosom Sighs!
To froth the Cup that Pleasure fills,
Malicious oft her Fingers throw
New Bitters in the Draught of Woe.
Oft when the love-sick Youth
Has given to her his Soul ador'd
His Love sincere—his plighted Word—
And felt his Heart exult in conscious Truth!
7
Would feign, if none she felt, the mutual Flame;
He has beheld, with fond—distemper'd Sight,
The floating—air-drawn Visions of Delight,
Long Scenes of Joy—and Days with Rapture bright!
Ev'n then—Despair has seiz'd his Heart!—
And Disappointment's grim Array
The flatt'ring Phantoms chas'd away:—
Then Novelty envenom'd ev'ry Dart!—
For had he learn'd by slow Degrees
That he must cease e'er long to please,
Some Safeguard to his Breast had then been found,
Or he had stood prepar'd to meet the Wound;
But barb'd by Novelty the Arrow flies—
And while it rankles it in his Heart—He dies!
8
And hov'ring o'er the crouded Rooms,
Bid ev'ry blushing Nymph beware
Of Novelty's delusive Glare.
The Tints of Heav'n's refulgent Bow
She varies to amuse the Eye,
But sweeter is the modest Glow
Of Constancy's unclouded Sky.
The radiant Bow dissolves in Rain—
And Novelty is bought with Pain:
But azure Skies maintain their Hue—
And so does constant Passion too!—
No Dew so soft from Heav'n descends,
On Novelty's enchanted Bow'rs—
As Tears that Rapture steals from constant Eyes!
9
To fan her Wreaths of gaudy Flow'rs,
So gentle—as Affection's Bosom Sighs!
The Paths of constant Love are Paths of Bliss.
And Happiness depends on this—
So seek no Joy from Passions New,
But fix for ever on a Heart that's true!
And Happiness depends on this—
So seek no Joy from Passions New,
But fix for ever on a Heart that's true!
11
ON TRIFLES, and TRIFLERS.
As Facts revolve by Rules unfix'd—
Things, great and trifling, are so mix'd
With all the Fuss of Bus'ness round 'em,
One's apt too often to confound them:
And it requires some Strength of Sight
In every Case to judge aright.
Pride dogmatizes—Folly wonders—
And each commits a thousand Blunders.
The surly Stoic thrusts his Lip.
And wrinkles up his Nose's Tip,
Then swelling high with Pride internal,
Thus bellows forth his railing Journal.
Things, great and trifling, are so mix'd
With all the Fuss of Bus'ness round 'em,
One's apt too often to confound them:
And it requires some Strength of Sight
In every Case to judge aright.
12
And each commits a thousand Blunders.
The surly Stoic thrusts his Lip.
And wrinkles up his Nose's Tip,
Then swelling high with Pride internal,
Thus bellows forth his railing Journal.
“Hence trifling World! I scorn—I hate
“The petty Toys that rule Man's Fate!—
“Say what is Honour?—but a Bubble,
“Which flies the Grasp, and mocks your Trouble—
“Can that be an important Matter
“Which ev'ry sland'rous Breath can scatter?
“Say what is Power?—a pageant Puppet,
“Curs'd by the Boobies who set up it;
“Suffer'd awhile to storm and grumble,
“And rise—to have the heavier Tumble!
“Riches—are sordid Trifles all!—
“And Beauty—but a painted Doll!
“The Gold—the Trophy—Mistress—Throne,
“Are but the Toys of Children grown—
“Too headstrong to regard th' Adviser,
“And Fools the more—since Age can't make them wiser!”
Thus the sour Misanthrope gives vent
To Prejudice, and Discontent.
“The petty Toys that rule Man's Fate!—
“Say what is Honour?—but a Bubble,
“Which flies the Grasp, and mocks your Trouble—
“Can that be an important Matter
“Which ev'ry sland'rous Breath can scatter?
“Say what is Power?—a pageant Puppet,
“Curs'd by the Boobies who set up it;
13
“And rise—to have the heavier Tumble!
“Riches—are sordid Trifles all!—
“And Beauty—but a painted Doll!
“The Gold—the Trophy—Mistress—Throne,
“Are but the Toys of Children grown—
“Too headstrong to regard th' Adviser,
“And Fools the more—since Age can't make them wiser!”
Thus the sour Misanthrope gives vent
To Prejudice, and Discontent.
Miss Fanny—just from School let out,
And jaunted by Mamma about,
Where'er she turns her raptur'd View,
Sees something wonderful and new!
And if her Word may stamp their Worth,
There are no Trifles upon earth.
“This heavenly Ball!—this Rout divine!
“That Concert—so immensely fine!
“That lovely Silk!—that new Cotillion!
“I'd not forget it for a Million!—
“—I would not for ten thousand Guineas
“Wear such a Cap as Lady Jenny's!—
“I'd give the World and all that's in it,
“To have the Captain here a Minute!’—
And jaunted by Mamma about,
Where'er she turns her raptur'd View,
Sees something wonderful and new!
14
There are no Trifles upon earth.
“This heavenly Ball!—this Rout divine!
“That Concert—so immensely fine!
“That lovely Silk!—that new Cotillion!
“I'd not forget it for a Million!—
“—I would not for ten thousand Guineas
“Wear such a Cap as Lady Jenny's!—
“I'd give the World and all that's in it,
“To have the Captain here a Minute!’—
By talk like this—a Girl of Spirit
Decks Trifles out with fancied Merit.
But each side errs, and idly dreams,—
For Truth lies never in extremes.
Things are not all to be despis'd,
Nor indiscriminately priz'd,
But have their Value giv'n—(depend on't)—
By Chance and Circumstance attendant.
Decks Trifles out with fancied Merit.
But each side errs, and idly dreams,—
For Truth lies never in extremes.
15
Nor indiscriminately priz'd,
But have their Value giv'n—(depend on't)—
By Chance and Circumstance attendant.
Riches—are good when rightly us'd,
By warm Benevolence diffus'd;
And made by Virtue's honest Arts
T' exhilarate a thousand Hearts!
By warm Benevolence diffus'd;
And made by Virtue's honest Arts
T' exhilarate a thousand Hearts!
Power—is no empty Pageant, when
Exerted for the Good of Men;
To shelter Virtue—punish Crimes—
Advance the Arts—and mend the Times!
Exerted for the Good of Men;
To shelter Virtue—punish Crimes—
Advance the Arts—and mend the Times!
16
Beauty—is sure no trifling Pow'r,
With Sense and Virtue for its Dow'r;
With Elegance and Taste refin'd—
A feeling Heart—a noble Mind;—
A Soul of inward Worth,—no less
Than what the outward Traits express.
Then Beauty is not giv'n in vain,
As all must own who hear of—Payne!
With Sense and Virtue for its Dow'r;
With Elegance and Taste refin'd—
A feeling Heart—a noble Mind;—
A Soul of inward Worth,—no less
Than what the outward Traits express.
Then Beauty is not giv'n in vain,
As all must own who hear of—Payne!
For Honour—it depends for Worth
On those from whom it issues forth.
Praise is but Satire from the Vicious—
The Mean—Absurd—or Injudicious.
When from a noble Source it springs,
It stamps a Price on meanest Things.
The British-Garter thus supports
Its Dignity at foreign Courts.—
Thus Greeks of old would strive and quarrel,
For Crowns of Parsley, Bays, or Laurel.—
And thus in Bath's gay Circles—now,
All study for the Myrtle—Bough.
On those from whom it issues forth.
Praise is but Satire from the Vicious—
The Mean—Absurd—or Injudicious.
17
It stamps a Price on meanest Things.
The British-Garter thus supports
Its Dignity at foreign Courts.—
Thus Greeks of old would strive and quarrel,
For Crowns of Parsley, Bays, or Laurel.—
And thus in Bath's gay Circles—now,
All study for the Myrtle—Bough.
FINIS.
| On Novelty | |