On Novelty and on Trifles, and Triflers. Poetical Amusements at a Villa near Bath [by Lady Anne Miller] |
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NOVELTY:
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 | On Novelty |  |
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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)
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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;
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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.
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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;
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(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!
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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!
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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!
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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!
| On Novelty | |