Infancy, or the management of children :: :: University of Virginia Library

Infancy, or the management of children

a didactic poem, in six books. The sixth edition. To which are added poems not before published. By Hugh Downman

Downman, Hugh (1740-1809)

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

POEMS ON DIFFERENT OCCASIONS,

ADDRESS TO PEACE.

On TAKING the HAVANNAH.

On GENIUS.

To INDEPENDENCE.

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INFANCY,

A DIDACTIC POEM.

BOOK I.

ARGUMENT.

The Invocation, and Introduction.—Health is the greatest blessing of mankind.—It should be the chief aim of parents to procure their children the enjoyment of it.—Nature and instinct therefore are to be followed.—Pernicious custom of giving children some drug soon after they are born.—The best remedy, at that time, is the first milk of the mother.— Various reasons and motives for the mother's suckling her children.—An amiable duty.—Apostrophe to tender affection. —Directions how to choose a nurse, if the mother cannot perform that office herself.—Cities destructive to infants.— Recommendation of the country.—The mother should oversee the conduct of the nurse.—The nurse's usual manner of life should be altered as little as possible.—Address to Habit.

Celestial Maid! from genuine science sprung!
Thee the pretended sage, whose leaden eye
Inwrapt in metaphysic gloom, ne'er deigns
A cheerful smile, thee with contracted brow,
And haughty gesture, all his vassals shun:
While by the Graces drest, Instruction hails
Thy guiding care. Celestial maid attend!
Tho barren be the subject, o'er its wilds
So may a verdure not their own be shed,
And blooming flowers. With me then turn thy sight
On the prime infant-state of helpless man:
On the first dawn of life, when nature now
Ushers her tender offspring into day;
Observe the young ideas how they wake
In gradual order, till at length matured
By time, they speak a living soul within.
View too the transient flash of mirth; the ills

Not real, yet afflictive; the quick thought
For ever varying, glanced from toy to toy.
Then constant motion pleases, then the ear
Catches at every sound, the eye untired
Darts its wild ray, and every object thrills
The new-born sense with joy. Come Virgin, teach
How on the government of these first years
Depends the future man; no vulgar theme,
No fruitless task, experiencing thy aid.

We write to reason: Hence ye doating train
Of midwives and of nurses ignorant!
Old beldames grey, in error positive,
And stiff in prejudice, whose fatal care
Oft death attends, or a life worse than death.

O Youth, whoe'er thou art, to beauty's charms
A slave, to all that inexpressive grace
Which native modesty and truth bestow
On their more beauteous minds, and which exalts
Britannia's daughters o'er the female world!
Is thy beloved propitious? Doth the god
Kindle his nuptial torch? And dost thou wish

The name of father, amiable, humane?
To view thy little progeny around
Happy, well-formed, and strong? Attend the muse:
The instructive muse shall teach thee to obtain
Thy heart's desire. And say, wilt thou fair nymph,
Complacent heed with favourable eye
The moral lay, refined and pure? To thee
Custom hath given, while active life shall call
Thy husband forth amid its boist'rous walks,
Domestic rule: thine is the nursery's charge;
Important trust! from him what absence hides,
Thy constant anxious care shall well supply.

Health is the greatest blessing man receives
From bounteous heaven; by her the smiling hours
Are wing'd with transport; she too gives the soul
Of firmness; without her, the hand of toil
Would languid sink; the eye of reason fade.

To this then bend thy care, O parent mind;
Array thy child in health; a nobler dress
Not gorgeous majesty can boast; the thanks
Of future gratitude thou wilt receive,

More than around him from thy treasured hoard
Then showering sums profuse; or giving all
Thy herds, and bleating flocks; tho thousands range
Thy spacious meads, or cloath thy ample hills.

Would'st thou thy children blest? The sacred voice
Of nature calls thee; where she points the way
Tread confident. No labyrinth is here;
No clue of Ariadne wilt thou need,
To Theseus given; fair is her open path,
And strong the steady light she casts around,
Instinctive light, the surest safest guide.

Thy child is born. See, where the treacherous nurse,
Or priestess of Lucina, in her hand
The ready medicine brings! Forewarned, beware;
Within the fatal drug lurks death; by this,
Thousands from yet untasted life retire,
Thousands of infant souls; yet sanctified
By custom, other reasons are assign'd,
And nature is accused of impious deeds
She ne'er committed. Nature will preserve
Whate'er she frames: and what the child requires

In his new state, sagaciously provides,
Both food and remedy: Before the sun
Hath from his birth encircled half the sphere,
He asks, plain as expressive signs can ask,
The mother's breast: Without a moment's pause
Hear the mute voice of instinct and obey.
Know the first efflux from the milky fount
Is nature's chymic mixture, which no power
Of art presumptuous can supply; this flows
Gently detersive, purifying, bland;
This each impediment o'ercomes, and gives
The young, unfetter'd springs of life to play.
Hence too the mother is secure: The streams,
Her infant's health promoting, flow to her
Salubrious; otherwise confined, or urged
Back to their source, what evils may she dread!
Sickness, and giddy languor, shivering cold,
And heat alternate, dire obstructions, pangs
Of sharpest torture, cancers, by the juice
Of boasted hemlock not to be removed.

O Mother (let me by that tenderest name
Conjure thee) still pursue the task begun;

Nor unless urged by strong necessity,
Some fated, some peculiar circumstance,
By which thy health may suffer, or thy child
Inhale disease, or that the genial food
Too scanty flows, give to an Alien's care
Thy orphan babe. Oh! if by choice thou dost—
What shall I call thee? woman? No, tho fair
Thy face, and deckt with unimagined charms
Tho sweetness seem pourtray'd in every line,
And smiles which might become a Hebe, rise
At will, crisping thy rosy cheeks, though all
That's lovely, kind, attractive, elegant,
Dwell in thy outward shape, and catch the eye
Of gazing rapture, all is but deceit;
The form of woman's thine, but not the soul.
Had'st thou been treated thus, perchance the prey
Of death long since, no child of thine had known
An equal lot severe. O unblown flower!
Soft bud of spring! Planted in foreign soil,
How wilt thou prosper! Brush'd by other winds
In a new clime, and fed by other dews
Than suit thy nature! From a stranger hand
Ah, what can infancy expect, when she

Whose essence was inwove with thine, whose life,
Whose soul thou didst participate, neglects
Herself in thee, and breaks the strongest seal
Which nature stamp'd in vain upon her heart.

O luckless Babe, born in an evil hour!
Who shall thy numerous wants attend? explore
The latent cause of ill? thy slumbers guard?
And when awake, with nice sedulity
Thy every glance observe? A parent might;
A hireling cannot; though of blameless mind,
Tho conscious duty prompt her to the task,
She feels not in her breast the impulsive goad
Of instinct, all the fond, the fearful thoughts
Awakening: say, at length that habit's power
Can something like maternal kindness give,
Yet, ere that time, may the poor nursling die.

Besides, who can assure the lacteal springs
Clear, and untainted? Oft disorder lurks
Beneath the vivid bloom, and cheerful eye,
Promising health; and poisonous juice secrete,
Slow undermining life, stains what should be

The purest nutriment. Hence, worse than death,
Long years of misery to thy blasted child.
A burthen to himself, by others shunn'd,
He wishes for the grave, and wastes his days
In solitary woe; or haply weds,
And propagates the hereditary plague;
Entailing on his name the bitter curse
Of generations yet unborn, a race
Pithless, and weak, of faded texture wan;
Like some declining plant, with mildew'd leaves,
Whose root a treacherous insect gnaws unseen.

But, whether lost in pleasure, in the round
Of modish life, and dissipation gay,
Misnamed polite, the welfare of her child
The fair barbarian looks on with an eye
Distant, and cold; or imitating her,
As faults of higher station always gain
Partial abettors, the neglected muse
Hath to the parent in life's middle rank
Tuned her unfructuous lay; she shall not cease
Desponding, weightier arguments for them,
More strenuous, more coercive she can bring,

To which perhaps self-interested love
Will ope their listening sense. Of mental joys
And pure delight,they would not understand,
Or relish the description. But if health
They covet, nor before the genial prime
Wish the stern fates to cut their vital thread,
Those hearts may prove susceptible of fear,
Which instinct, love, and duty could despise.
Nor seek we fabled incidents, to strike
With superstitious dread the mind, but truth,
Plain, honest truth, inspires the homely song.

She who refuses to her young one's lip
Her swelling bosom, each returning year
Conceives, and each returning year sustains
The pangs of child-birth. Harass'd by fatigue,
The strongest constitution droops; but soon
The weaker system, like a blighted flower,
Falls underneath the shock. The nursing time
Was meant by wisest nature, as a stay,
A vacant interspace, in which the nerves,
And threads of life unstrung, might re-assume
Their native tone, endued again with strength,

And corresponding freedom, to support
The day of toil: as a sure medicine,
To root out many an illness, else unquell'd,
From the soft female frame: to invigorate
The fragile texture, and with grateful force
Astringe the fibres, morbid and relax'd.
But if not e'en these motives can persuade;
To improve her charms, new beauties to possess,
Is woman's utmost wish. Mark then the fair,
Who to this sweet employment turns her mind!
Delighted health sits on her polish'd brow,
And shews the veins beneath; Spreads o'er her cheek
The vermil glow; her eyes with lustre fills;
Decks her with radiant smiles, and all her form
With grace ineffable, and comeliness
Invests. Enough of these—The muse beholds
With rapture some of other kind—Oh! hail
Ye real mothers! Ye whose hearts are full
Of sensibility! Who, highly pleased,
Would not, for all the gewgaws pride can boast,
Loosen the magic knot, which joins in one
Your babes and you; or see a hireling share
The love, which to a mother sole belongs.

O Thou, to whom, one of this pious train,
I with esteem and veneration bend!
Lead on with decent step, uncheck'd by fear,
To those domestic haunts, where peace expands
Her wings, and harmony delighted dwells.
Let me behold thee rivet thy fix'd eye
On the young infant form, then press it close,
Close to thy throbbing heart, then on its lips
A thousand kisses print, thy eyes with joy
O'erflowing, in each feature nicely scann'd,
Tracing the dear resemblance of its sire.
And lo! where pleased, beyond expression pleased,
To see thee in the sweetest task employ'd
Of female duty, where thy husband hangs
O'er thee enamour'd! Scarcely did the night
Which gave thee to his arms, bestow a joy
To this superior; thrilling to the mind,
Sincere, and home-felt. O true name of love,
Tender Affection! Genuine source of bliss
Immaculate, and pure! The transient blaze
Of passion soon subsides, thy steadier fire
Time but increases! Soft coercive band,
Connecting souls! Without thee, what is life!

Mild Halcyon of the breast, whose summer wing
Calms every raging storm! To thee the wise,
The good still offer incense; all who bear
No sordid stains; nor any but the dull,
Or grovelling, in her parsimonious mood
By nature form'd, or whom with iron hand
Tyrannic custom rules, despise thy sway

Thrice happy she, by inclination led,
By nought with-held, to add this pleasing link,
This heart-endearing bond, to the sweet ties
Of married love! But should'st thou e'er be doom'd,
Votaress of truth and virtue, to resist
The attractive warmth by their eternal hands
Implanted; to resist the liberal call
Of duty and desire; condemned by ails
From causes unforseen, to tear the pledge
From thy fond bosom; while thy sickening heart
Bleeds at the thought, condemn'd another's care
To invoke for him, the babe, thy straining eyes
Gaze on with nameless pleasure: Let my lay
Direct thy choice for the momentous task
Whom to retain, what parent to adopt

For thy unconscious young one; for from her
Not only nutriment perhaps he takes,
To life and growth subservient, but who knows
How far the stamina yet unevolved,
How far the soul herself as yet unformed,
For texture, vigour, passions, intellect,
On this thy act depend? Far from the bounds
Of the rank city, let some trusty mind
Explore the straw-rooft cott; there, firm of nerve
Her blood from every grosser particle,
By hardy labour, and abstemious fare,
Sublimed; the honest peasant's mate shall ope
Her hospitable arms, receive with joy
The infant stranger, and profusely yield
Her pure balsamic nurture to his lip.
But since the keenest eye may be deceived,
And vice will lurk amid the country haunts
To innocence devoted, it were meet
To investigate among the village Tribe
Their neighbour's mode of life. Heeds she the laws
Of matron-like sobriety? Her fame,
Is it from all suspicion clear? Her soul,
To wedlock true? Feels she a parent's love?

To her own offspring tenderly benign?
Does she her husband's constant heart possess?
Nor seeks he foreign pleasure? Every doubt
Extinguish'd here; still curiously persist,
Nor terminate thy search; examine round
Her little mansion, see if there, in spite
Of poverty, the step of cleanliness,
Attractive nymph, unhesitating treads.
Her age too claims thy notice; let not time
On restless wing have stolen from her face
The bloom of youth, nor be she green in years.
For torpid, or impaired by frequent use,
The flexile vessels which, convolved in maze
Wrapp'd within maze, secrete the purer stream,
Their office will more sparingly perform,
Or less nutritious particles supply.
And if thy nurse be young, the thoughtful mind
Of prudence would not to her charge confide
What claims exactest assiduity,
And serious vigilance. There are who think,
Too subtile in their theory, the nurse
Should with the mother aptly coincide
In age and temperament; but heeding well

The precepts we have given, thou may'st neglect
Such trivial niceness; health from each extreme
Removed, is not to colour of the hair,
Or to complexion tinged with red or brown
Confined: excess thou should'st indeed avoid
Of plump or lean, nor would I choose the adust
And highly bilious, or the sable hue
Of clouded melancholy. Be it then
Thy primal care to fix on vigorous health
Adorn'd with smiles, the lovely progeny
Of constant cheerfulness, and sweet content.
Nor would I (tho confest a quality
Inferior in it's kind) not prize the voice
From harshness free, whose soft tone can compose
The froward babe, or gently bid it wake,
And view the young-eyed morn. O thou, who help'st
To throng the crowded town, restrain'd by force
Within that court of death, where every gale
Is tainted with pollution; did the muse,
If some sad cause forbade thee to pursue,
The mother's genuine office, to the fields
Serene, and rural Lares, order forth
Thy tender infant? not from needless fears

And vain precaution, did she dare to thwart
The dictates of humanity. She sees,
What do not to thy eye perhaps appear,
The dreadful train of ills, which swarm within
The unhallow'd precincts. Well she knows how few
Out of the many myriads city-born
Survive, in just proportion scann'd with those
Who bask in freer day. Yet, much avails
A parent's unabating love, and sharp
Is absence to the soul. But can'st thou purge
The unwholesome atmosphere, gravid with seeds
Of latent sickness? Suffocation fell,
Angina, apthous sores, eruptions dire,
Pertussis fierce, and squalid atrophy?
Say, can'st thou bid the flagging south speed by,
Nor stagnant, o'er his much-loved mansion brood
With darkening plume, of poison and of death
Prolific? When each danger I review,
Shudd'ring with fear, I scarce would bid thee prove
The nurse's task, tho nought should intervene
Of fatal accident, and thou art bound
By every tie of nature to the deed.
For can'st thou round thy infant's brow entwine

A magic wreath? Or cause an angel lift
His shielding arm? Thou can'st not: follow then
The precepts of experience; yet let oft
Maternal fondness guide thee to the place
Where rests the little sojourner, there view
How cherish'd, how improved, and lingering chide
The rapid step of still-progressive time,
Which hurries thee reluctantly away.

But can the mother change unblamed the town,
For some sequester'd villa? What denies,
Her bed of sickness quitted, to retreat
And seek the haunts, where peace on flowers reclined
Lists to the warbling songster of the grove?
Or from the gently-rising hill surveys
The grazing herds, and rivulet which winds
Meand'ring thro the distant vale? Where health
Sports on the level green, and young delight
Smiling attends: Where bounteous nature sheds
Her choicest blessings, and with guardian wing
Protects her favourite progeny. Retire,
My fair disciple, haste to scenes like these,
And underneath thy roof invite to dwell

The fosterer of thy child. Despise, with me,
The insipid train of vanity and pride;
The foppery of custom; quaint parade
Of ceremonial visit; idle farce
Of masquerade, or ball, where real joy
Ne'er entered; conversations gayly dull,
Unblest by exiled friendship; glare of courts;
And mummery of the great. Be't thine to walk
With reason, and enjoy the harmonious voice
Of conscious rectitude, whose soothing strain
Can lift the soul beyond what vulgar thought
Can distantly imagine. If thou must
Require another's aid thy place to fill,
Her conduct thou direct, and regulate
The manner of her life, a pleasure this
Inferior, yet affording ample room
To gratify the finer nerve of love.
To see thy substitute at stated times
The life-sustaining food supply, to mark
How thrives her young dependent, and each day
Appears addition manifest to gain
In size and stature, while his eyes beam forth,

At least to fancy's peering search, the dawn
Of future reason, and intelligence.

Here, as in all things, nature opens wide
Her page instructive. Did'st thou not behold
How in her homely dwelling, health imbued
With roseate tint the cheeks, and firmly strung
The muscles of her elder boy thy nurse
Hath left behind? She was not surfeited
With dainty cates, and high luxurious fare
When him she suckled; never did a draught
Stronger than water pass her thirsty lip;
Pernicious ale she knew not. When released
From short confinement, to her various wants
No friend, no servant minister'd; her babe
She fill'd, then gave up to the soft embrace
Of sleep; meanwhile no sedentary life
She led, she spun the woof, in order meet
She set her cott, the viands she prepared,
With which at even-tide to welcome home
The husband whom she loved: Or in her arms
Bearing her grateful burthen, out she hied,
Braving the summer's heat, or winter's cold,

And as she walk'd, caroll'd the incondite lay
Of rustic merriment. Seek not to change
Her usual regimen, for if thou dost,
Should she escape the fever which impends,
Expect thy child, attack'd by cholic pangs,
To writhe in torture, or perhaps at once
Convulsions fierce shall snatch him from the world.
For now her stomach, which from diet hard,
By habit's force, and potent exercise
Elaborated chyle of blandest sort,
Oppress'd by crudities, corrupts the blood
With viscid recrement. Or else the brain,
That source of motion, urged by sympathy,
Creates new impulses of morbid kind
The vital threads affecting, and from thence
The elastic arteries, and ruddy stream
Within their coats contain'd, the different glands
Their various store secreting, nor escapes
Among the rest the lacteal tide, the food,
By nature, of thy child, but now his bane.

O habit! powerful ruler of mankind!
Great principle of action! Reconciled

By thee to every clime, the human race
O'erspread this globe; around the frozen pole
Scorn the stern brow of winter, nor beneath
The equator's torrid influence, dread the shafts
Of vengeful Phœbus; thou presidest well-pleased
Over the innocuous vegetable meal,
Which on the banks of Ganges, or of Ind,
Satiates the temperate Bramin. Thou can'st tame
To wholesome nourishment the sanguine feast
Of the ever-roving Scythian. To thy laws
We subjugate the willing neck, profest
Thy vassals; nor the mental faculties
Dost thou not sway; by thee inwrapt in maze
Of subtle politics, the statesman plans
His fraudful schemes unceasing. Thou sustain'st
The sage who labours for the public good
With patriot care, though oftentimes assail'd
By black ingratitude. The midnight lamp
Of meditation, trimm'd by thee, reveals
To keen philosophy truth's awful face,
And all his toil is pleasure. Led by thee,
The bard retreats from vice's noisy reign,
And in the secret grot with fancy holds

Delicious converse, while her hand withdraws
The veil from memory's ideal store,
And all the associated tribe of thought
Displays before his view. Still may I bend
Before thy shrine, O Habit, when thy rules
With nature's disagree not, neither then
May we unpunish'd break them, else in vain
Shalt thou attempt to fasten round my heart;
For know, that reason, and her sister form,
Fair virtue, can untwist thy magic cords,
And to their will, tho not annihilate,
Can all thy laws attemper and refine.

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

BOOK II.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction, and address to humanity and simplicity.—Importance of the subject.—Nursery, not unworthy the notice of fathers.—Aliment of infants.—Milk, the only provision of nature.—Folly of giving them various kinds of food, and especially of feeding them by night.—Additional food when infants gain the age of two months.—Not to be fed in such a quantity, as that their stomachs may reject the aliment.— Apology for mothers being led into error.—Description of prejudice in general.—Mothers should strive against its power.—Ill effects of repletion, even in grown persons.— Nature to be satisfied, not over-loaded.—Healthy appearance of children temperately brought up, and pleasing prospect of their future behaviour in life by that means.— Weakly children, though sometimes of quick apprehensions, not likely to perform the active duties of life.—The Storgè, or natural affection of parents to their offspring, may be carried to excess.—Weaning.—The fittest time when children are about nine months old.—Before this, proper to accustom them to other food.—Vegetables alone, the cause of many complaints to children.—Importance of the female character.

Are there with pride elate, who cast a glance
Of supercilious scorn on strains like these,
Stiling them low? While sweet humanity
Attentive listens, vain the cynic sneer,
Or cynic frown. She, her warm cheek suffused
With blushes sprung from conscious virtue, owns
She thinks no task too mean, no work too low,
Whose end is public good; would save a life,
Rather than deck herself in glittering robes,
And boast of titled honours; sooner give
One ornament to grace the common-weal,
Than purchase a whole empory of wit.
Come modest dame, and o'er my numbers meek
Preside; come with simplicity, who hates
The swelling phrase bombast, the insipid term
Pompously introduced, as artists vile
O'er forms uncouth their dazzling colours spread,

And mock the eye: she too shall bid the train
Of haughty ignorance (for 'tis the curse
Of pride to be with ignorance conjoined)
Keep far aloof, nor read the hallow'd lay.

Yet not alone to women do we write,
The nurse or mother. Subjects such as these
Oft have the sages old of Greece or Rome
In studious mood employed; full well they knew
That from the birth those heroes must be form'd,
Whom Athens might with future joy admire
Or hardy Sparta: Heroes who might urge
To their sublimest pitch the rights of men,
Brave every danger for their country's cause,
And make the Persian tremble, though inclosed
By countless millions: Heroes who might act
Deeds which the Gracchi would not blush to own,
Or Scipio, bravest, noblest of mankind.
Themes such as these employ'd the generous soul
Of Locke, when with the patriot spirit fired
Of Plato of Lycurgus, He assay'd
The manly task, from custom's harpy claws,
And the soft lap of luxury, to snatch

The Babe to enervate idleness foredoom'd,
Or sickly languor; to connect his mind
With vigorous organs, its impulsive will
Apt to perform, and run with ease and strength
The great and difficult career of life;
Desirous to behold our British Youth
Out-rival ancient fame. Come then ye sires,
Whom love of offspring, or of country sways!
You will approve my verse; the nursery's care
From you will gain attention. Wisdom's voice,
And deep philosophy to you have taught
Its consequence, and worth. Oh! aid the toil
Of a fond mother, with your reason guide
Her gentler faculties; invigorate
Her virtuous weakness; to your well-known voice
She will, she cannot but with pleasure yield,
And follow precepts sanctified by you.

What aliment the tender babe requires,
How best sustain'd, the muse proceeds to sing.
To nature then attend: she hath prepared
No food but milk alone, and if it flows
In plenteous rills, abundant is the store.

Thus fed, the lamb over the grassy turf
Sports frolicksome; the patient ox who turns
Sweltering all day the stubborn glebe, by this
Nourish'd at first, his present strength acquired.
And will thy infant cease to thrive, supplied
With this nepenthe? Rather he will gain
New vigour every hour, and healthful smile
Tho sickness scoul around. Yet some there are
Who fill from morn to noon, from noon to eve,
Nay thro the hours of night, the suffering child
With various cates, heedless of nature's lore,
Cruelly kind, unknowing that they thus
Fatten a victim for the hungry grave.
For from repletion, every ill severe
Which threatens childhood, arm'd with keener force,
Invades the delicate frame. How oft 'twere fit
The suckling should imbibe the milky stream,
From the first dawn of morning, till the sun
Set in the west, experience must evince.
All do not feed alike, some greedily
Drain at a meal the lacteal beverage,
Others more nice require the frequent treat.

Yet when night spreads her mantle o'er the globe,
And leads on sleep and silence, it is meet
To obey her mandate; rest thy careful head
O mother, let thy tender nurseling rest.
Why wilt thou anxious to thyself create
Unnecessary pain? At evening close
Forth from her den starts the fell lioness,
And thro the gloomy desart urges on
Eager for prey her rapid step, she leaves
Her sleeping young one, nor expects he food
Till she return with morning's early beam.
Yet this is he, who shall hereafter reign
Lord of the forest, and with kingly voice
Appal his listening subjects. But thy heart
Is soft, and cannot bear thy infant's cries.
Oh! Heaven forbid that I should with thy breast
Steel'd to his real misery! But these
Are cries which evil custom hath begot,
And blind indulgence; unalarm'd sustain
A few short trials, bear unmoved the shock
At first; indulged not, he will fret no more.
Believe me, nor from hunger, nor from pain
These wailings spring. How different is the shriek,

And agonizing groan, from sobs like these,
Transient, and humorsome! To cloath thy child
With health some little violence endure:
Nor to the dictates plain of candid truth
Thy ancient nurse's doating saws prefer.

The stomach ever full, is ever weak:
But from refreshing sleep and abstinence
Digestion thrives, and kindliest nutriment
The absorbent veins inhale, wherewith the warm
And plastic arteries by due degrees
Upbuild the human fabric; or by which
Each slender thread and fibre is evolved,
Gaining mysteriously their destined bulk,
And firm elastic motion. Robb'd of sleep
The warrior droops his head, and longs no more
To plunge amid the fight: The rustic faints,
Vigorous e'erwhile, nor strains his sinewy arms
Holding the plough, but nerveless and unmann'd
Presses his homely pallet, sending forth
Vain wishes to the power who from him flies.
And can the gentle frame of woman bear
Constant disturbance and unrest? Her strength

Melts down apace, the bloom forsakes her cheeks,
A peevish listlessness succeeds, she pines,
And over-sedulous is now unfit
To fill that office which she most desires.

Would'st Thou thy child to pass the hours of night
Wrapt in sleep's downy plumage? Banish far
The lazy cradle, useless but to give
Relief to the indolent attendant race,
Who fain would batten in perpetual sloth,
Who shrink at slightest toil, and ill deserve
The viands they devour. At first indeed,
During the circuit of a moon or twain
'Tis fit thy charge should only eat and sleep;
Nature demands it. Afterward contract
The hours of sleep by day, and in the embrace
Of carefulness let exercise divert
The lively infant; chiefly when his eye
Now looks around unknowing what he sees,
Now when he springs, and spreads his little arms,
And smiles, and utters sounds which strike thine ear
With wondrous pleasure. Tho we now permit
Some added food, its quality regard,

As of important consequence. We praise
Above the rest, the farinaceous tribe,
Bread well-fermented, unadulterate
With deleterious alum, this with milk
And with the limpid element decoct.
Yet always mindful of the golden mean,
Be even this with moderation used,
Nor ever glut the stomach till it loathes,
And the superfluous aliment rejects.
The wrinkled Sibyl laugh to scorn, and all
Her dreams fallacious, when pronouncing this
A sign of health. Nature indeed is kind,
And various her attempts to evacuate
What would be noxious, and 'tis well thy child
Hath still sufficing strength. But he, poor babe,
Had he the sense to guide his appetite,
Would shun this consequence of mere excess,
No proof of health, disgustful to the eye.

We blame thee not for yielding to the voice
Of error; if beneath the solemn garb
Of old experience hid, and self-convinced,
Not meaning to deceive, how should thy young

Untutor'd mind resist her lore? But when
Truth meets thy sight, and pointing shews the way
To nature's bower, thy blind associate quit,
Enter the hallow'd shade, converse with her
Pure nymph, peruse her lineaments divine,
And to her voice impartial ope thy heart.

It is not strange that prejudice should gain
Access to thy soft bosom. Who can boast
His freedom? Wide and potent is her sway.
No fiend in stronger bonds hath held enslaved
The groaning nations. In Cimmerian gloom,
Where light ne'er penetrates, but darkness sits
In fixt essential majesty enthroned,
Unconscious sloth, by ignorance compress'd,
Brought forth this monster. To the haunts of men
Taking her way, the stars grew pale; her wings
She spread incumbent o'er the subject world,
Nor suffered men to view what slender bounds
Divided them from brutes; in torpid state
Plunged deep, they lay supine for many an age,
Till Ægypt first rebell'd: mother of arts,
And boasted fount of wisdom. Yet, tho bold

The adventure, she to burst the galling chain
Strove unsuccessful. Mid the twilight groves
Of sacred Memphis, on the banks of Nile,
Prolific, wondrous stream, or round the walls
Of hundred-gated Thebes, in union close
With superstition, dwelt the pest abhorr'd;
And underneath her hieroglyphic veil
Incongruous forms commingled. Nor in Greece
Reign'd she less absolute; her sages hence
Built their fallacious systems, airy shades,
And phantoms of the brain; with wordy war
Fought in defence each of his waking dream,
And suffer'd truth with Socrates to expire.

How long beneath her power did Europe bend!
Prompted by her, ambition eagle-wing'd
Taught ancient Rome amid the lust of sway,
Intent on crimson conquest, to neglect
Humanity and virtue; till the pile
By valour rear'd, fell from it's giddy height,
Shatter'd within by luxury, without
Assail'd by savage fierceness. Then what depth
Of native gloom, of thick-incircling night,

Witness'd her presence! Every art was lost,
Each effort of the mind; or else sunk low
Crouch'd to the yoke; while o'er the puzzled schools
Exalted, shook his worse than iron rod
The tyrant Stagyrite; and physic awed
By Galen's sullen genius dared not heal.
Each lovelier grace, each elegance unknown,
Each genuine ornament, till taste o'erwhelm'd
With death-like sleep, in Leo's age revived.
Philosophy extinct, till Bacon rose
The morning star of science, by whose beams
Transfixt, as erst the fabled Python fell,
Lay vanquish'd huge authority. Then first
Experiment with radiant lamp disclosed
The stores of bigot time, and taught with nice
Laborious hand from each fictitious gem
To separate the true. Hence day by day
The rigid shackles fall self-loosed, or brace
Mankind less strictly; we for nature's laws
Read nature only; wisdom smiles serene,
With freedom bless'd, and fools alone are slaves.

And say wilt Thou in this enlightened age
O Mother, single stand, and lend thine ear
To hoar, and quaint tradition? Wilt thou treat
Thy Child by their opinion, whose advice
Thou would'st not follow in one act besides?
Judge by thyself. What languor, what fatigue
Attends the fuller meal! What dire effects,
What tumults oft from the crude surfeit rise!
And why is reason thine, if not with care
To govern him whose yet unripen'd frame
Of sense is vacant? Tho with greater ease,
His stomach may the superplus expel,
Than older gluttony; yet caution dreads
Events unfortunate, the nerves convulsed,
Fever, and each ill symptom which attends
The growing teeth. Unskill'd to curb himself,
His appetite guide thou: So, duly fed,
Each meal affording what may satisfy,
Not burthen nature, on thy happy child
Hygeia shall with eye propitious look.
His shall be comely vigour, winning smiles,
Freedom from pain, protection from disease,
And stamina well-knit to undergo

Each future change of ever-varying life,
Each toil, each danger, nay perhaps a base
On which hereafter may be firmly rear'd
Each virtue, social, public, warm, refined,
Each intellectual, moral excellence.

For tho the child of weaker nerves may seem
With quickest parts endow'd, yet should he rise
Thro numerous perils to the height of man,
Oppress'd with listless torpor, how can he
Brave the meridian ray of public life?
Reflecting on himself, how shall his mind
Expand toward other's feelings? Nay too oft
Those blossoms immature of sense, on which
We gaze with pleasure and astonishment,
Spontaneous from the blighted stalk descend,
Or yield harsh tasteless fruit. This stroke severe
Thou shalt avoid, more rationally kind.
If form'd by nature delicate, thy love
Guided by judgment, shall his strength improve;
At least his weakness, or the effects it brings,
Shall not proceed from errors of thy own.
Thou wilt not gorge thy child; and all night long

He sleeps serene, an interval of rest,
In which the stomach clear'd of every load
Fortuitous, its healthful state preserves.
He wakes alert, prompted by hunger keen
To imbibe the draught nutritious. Thee too sleep
Hath charm'd with opiate rod; no froward cries,
No tortures of thy infant, caused by crude,
Unwholesome, or accumulated fare,
Have broke thy tranquil slumbers. Thou too seest
Placid the break of morn, and to thy babe
The well-secreted, copious aliment
Preparest to give; which, sad anxiety
And restless hours, (in her, who idly fond,
And painfully solicitous, hath watch'd
The night, for other purposes design'd)
Rob of its balmy essence, else derived
Sprightly and plenteous from the genial chyle,
A weak, thin, vapid, unsubstantial juice;
Whence to the tender organs of her babe
A morbid irritation, which destroys
Their natural, and necessary tone,
Till haply dire disease, or death ensues.

Is there a stronger principle infix'd
In human nature, than the zealous warmth
A mother toward her infant feels? Yet thin
Is the barrier dividing right from wrong,
Virtue from vice. The noblest qualities
Indulged to excess, a different hue assume,
No longer noble. Courage may be changed
To brutal force; to prodigality
The generous sentiment; to licence rude
Freedom's bright flame; and tender nuptial love
To mean uxoriousness. What finer joys
Inspire the soul more exquisitely form'd
By vulgar minds unheeded! But beware
Lest sensibility itself, uncheck'd,
Extinguish its delights; lest pity bleed
At every pore, intolerable smart
Enduring; lest the softer passion urge
If unsuccessful, to the wan abode
Of madness or despair; lest taste exact
Turn to fastidious niceness, coveting
With vain desire, among the works of men,
To find perfection. Thou too curb thy zeal
O Mother, that impulsive ardour rule,

That love inordinate, which urges on
To weakness, and perverts to criminal
The sweetest, best emotions of thy soul.

Whence is this nameless energy? this power
So forcibly attractive? who intwined
Its subtile threads? and round the willing heart
Braced firm the cord mysterious? Who, but He!
The prime intelligence! Who first call'd forth
From warring Chaos this fair frame of things!
Who bade each part with animation glow!
And what he will'd to exist, in order due
Not of continued, but successive life
Will'd to preserve. Who taught the winged race
Among impervious shades, with matchless skill,
To form their nests, and guard their callow brood.
The natives of the fields, and desart wilds,
A fit retreat to seek, the rocky cave,
Thicket, or mountain high. Who gives them all
A thousand wiles, a thousand stratagems
Of crafty policy, from hostile force
To save their young; and to defend them, fills
E'en the most timid with impetuous strength,

And sense of prowess never felt before.
Instinct alone, their tutoress and guide;
But instinct and superior reason thine.

Thus while nine moons have known increase and wane
Taught to proceed, the pleasing task of care
Is still unfinish'd, much remains unsung.
Now is the season by experience deem'd
Most meet, an arduous duty to attempt.
Arduous to some; but not to thee, whose mind
Reason enlightens with a clearer ray,
Shewing the bounds between parental love,
And its fond foolish mimic. Thou canst look
Beyond the present, no dull slave of sense,
And for a lasting good, most willingly
Endure some transient pain. Thy child long time
Fed by thy vital fluid, now requires
Dismission from the breast. Yet not at once,
As some have taught erroneous; such our frame
That every rash and sudden change may prove
The source of harm. More wise and cautious Thou
Break thro the tye of habit by degrees;

And ere the stream maternal be refused,
His taste to different nutriment incline.

Besides the increase of food ere while allow'd
What diet do we grant? Some would defer
To years more vigorous, all, that tyrant man,
The universal glutton, from the race
That grazes on the plain, or skims the flood,
Or cleaves with nimble wing the yielding air,
Culls for his use; and would not that the child
Should taste of ought but what the fruitful earth,
Plant, herb, or grain produces, with the stream
The lowing kine afford. There are no doubt
Who to the latest stage of life arrive,
Thus always nourish'd. On the shores of Ind
Check'd by religious fears, whole tribes refuse
To bathe their hands in blood, left thro the wound
A kindred soul should fly; yet some pass through
A century of years (so fame reports)
By sickness unsubdued. Where high ascend
Our Caledonian hills, the hardy north
A gallant offspring boasts, whom fate denies
To indulge, except in vegetable meals.

Yet when their country rouses them to arms,
Waving her standard to their view, they rush
Impetuous forth, and terrible in war,
Dread as the Lion hurt, in every clime
They fight, they conquer, hearing but their name
The distant foe grows pale. Yet prone to doubt,
The sage these fair examples will not trust,
Implicitly believing. He will judge
Not from a race of men by habit sway'd,
By custom harden'd, not from every rare
Occurrence of longevity; or those,
The Minions of their clan, who seek the fields
Where rages fell Bellona. He requires
A strict impartial list, to know if more
Of these, compared with others, ere the force
Of potent use hath nature's influence changed,
Escape unhurt, and reach life's grateful prime
Active, proportion'd, vigorous. And here,
These distant facts still undetermined left,
The instructive Muse shall teach from what her eyes
Have clearly seen; though social, not inclined
To luxury's various table, though humane,
No follower of the Samian Sect. Howe'er

The infant form'd perhaps with stronger nerves,
Or of peculiar nature, may escape
The blasting hand of sickness, or may thrive
On vegetable fare, yet oft we view
Where poverty more generous food denies,
Tottering Rachitis seize its helpless prey;
Or slow-consuming Tabes; or within
His mazy labyrinth, the tortuous worm
Finding a sure asylum, multiplies
His noisome produce. Hence the unwieldy head,
Distended joints, limbs variously incurved.
Hence the sunk cheek, the hollow lifeless eye:
Hence loss of balmy sleep, and appetite,
Convulsive motions, agonizing spasms,
And symptoms, which, in order to describe,
Had foil'd the Coan Sage. For maugre those
Who idly speculate, by fancy ruled,
Or superstition; nature, we assert,
Form'd us, with mingled diet, herb, root, seed,
And animal, to gratify our taste,
Or foster life; a truth, the anatomist
Plainly demonstrates; nor will reason's mind
Admit a doubt. The crude or sluggish juice

Which vegetables yield, with toil perspired,
Weakens the stomach, whose contraction fails,
Not justly stimulated; while the skin
Its pores block'd up, or e'en its texture changed,
Is cover'd o'er with incrustations foul,
Scarcely, if ever, by the abstersive wave
Of tepid bath removed. But if by fate
These viands are refused, condemn'd to taste
Nought but bird, fish, or beast, a putrid mass
Is gender'd, which pollutes the vital flood,
And taints each humour, till the general frame
Dissolves as in a thaw. These truths regard;
By nature heeded, when with care She form'd
The lacteal fluid; a peculiar mixt,
Skilfully blended; by digestion due,
Or in it's winding passage thro the glands
Animalized, and render'd fit to tame
The ferment of acidity, to which
Childhood is prone. Whence we conclude, that now
When from the breast exiled, as far as art
Her nicer laws can imitate, 'tis right
To adapt it's food, and mingle aliment

Of alkalescent quality, with that
Which might to incorrigible acid turn.

This to prevent, haply the bounteous streams
Of Pales, from each wholesome leaf, each soft
And verdant shoot, secreted, which invest
Grateful, the dewy meadow, tho conceived
Of virtues rare, and the intermediate link
Of animal and vegetable kind,
Will want sufficient power. We fear not then
To bid thee from the herd or flock derive
Part of thy infant's sustenance; but still
With licence circumscribed. As yet the spoon
Retaining, covet not with firmer meats,
To satiate hunger, till the rising teeth
Spring from their latent seeds, and deck the mouth,
Two rows of clearest white, The fibres else,
Impacted, will not to digestion yield,
A harden'd, tough, indomitable mass:
Nor will the salivary glands emit
Their needful liquid. By compulsive fire
Rather extract the pure nutritious juice,
Mix'd with the virgin lymph; with this combine

The generous gifts of Ceres; and behold
The dairy offers it's nectareous store;
And Carolina sends her pearly grain.

Rare, and more rarely, now thy breast unveil,
Nor to a distant day protract the time
Of final separation; he requires
No farther aid of thine; thee other cares
Haply demand, thee other duties; go,
Thou wert not form'd for one alone, tho dear;
Go, bless thy husband with a numerous race,
Beauteous like this, like this with health adorn'd.

How high the rank in life of Womankind!
Their station how important! Hapless he
Who lives unconscious of their worth! The Fool
Of grosser sense, or airy libertine
Who draws his judgment from the forward few,
Or yielding weak, and dares with impious tongue
Pronounce them all the slaves of vanity,
By passion ever led, by flattery won.
Their frame like our's, but with ethereal touch
More delicately limb'd. The same their souls,

More soft, more sensitive, and more refined,
Each uncontaminated Briton owns
And feels their virtues. Polishers of life!
Sweeteners of savage care! Who tune the breast
To harmony, or prompt to glorious deeds
And emulative toil. To friendship's flame,
To gratitude, how exquisitely true!
Who tender confidence repay with love,
Integrity unshaken, faith most pure,
Warm, zealous loyalty. With honour clad,
As with a robe, and beauteous ornaments
Of unaffected modesty. Well-skill'd
To form the growing soul, and on its young
And opening bud to fix the impression deep
Of every generous thought, which stimulates
The future Man, to love of Parents, Friends,
Offspring, and sacred freedom, while as yet
Corruption suffers, in her favourite Isle
The Goddess to reside. Far hence, away,
Ye groveling sensualists, to Eastern climes!
Where lust, and barbarous jealousy immure
The passive slaves! What joy can beauty give,
When strays the unfetter'd will? Or when in calm,

And thinking hour, the mind unsatisfied
Contemns the looser objects of desire,
Pining for sympathy? And feels a void,
Which roving licence never can supply?
The wanton dance, the soft voluptuous strain
Sung to the melting viol, nought inspires,
But languor and disgust. Mistaken men!
Who lose the better portion of their time,
The dear domestic hour; the converse bland,
Fruition of the soul, love's balmy zest
Which never cloys; parental cares conjoin'd;
Divided griefs; reciprocal delights;
The life of nature, reason, virtue, bliss.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

BOOK III.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction.—Address to Dr. Cullen.—The diet before-mentioned to be continued for twelve months longer.—The unvitiated taste of children to be consulted.—Error of giving them whatever we like ourselves,—Description of artificial, and more polished life.—Progress from thence to luxury, and all it's bad effects.—Particularly the abuses of the table.—Children relish bland and insipid food.—Ill effects of indulging them with wine.—One meal a day of any simple animal food, with vegetables and bread, to be allowed to them.—Pickles, salted meats, and sweetmeats condemned.—The only drink of children should be water. —Praise of that element.—Fruits recommended.—When arrived at the age of four years, the meals of children to be regulated and confined to the common stated times.—Advantages of a child, thus brought up, over others.—Remainder of the subject mentioned.—Thoughts of the Author thereupon.

Again from busy care, from thoughts which prey
On the reflecting mind, from the rank walks
Of men, where folly dwells, and base design,
And flattery mean, and servile complaisance,
From the dissembled friend whose hollow heart
Professing service, aims but to deceive,
I seek the muse; whose charms can softly steal
Affliction from itself, whose power can smoothe
The paths of rugged toil, can heal the wound
Of discontent, and calm the throbbing breast
Of indignation. To my theme again
Well-pleased I turn, and view the simple race
Of infant innocence, as yet unwarp'd
By education, blameless nature their's,
And passions undebauch'd, from envy free,
From guile, and that assembled crew of ills
Produced by commerce with a tainted world.

And say wilt thou, to whom long since had flow'd
The grateful strain, if apprehensive doubt
Had not shrunk fearful from the public eye,
And dreaded lest thy praises should appear
Link'd to our slighted numbers. Say, wilt thou,
Cullen! Unrivall'd master of thy art!
Of soul acute, throughout the winding maze
Of every devious system, to pursue
And mark the steps of error! By whose aid
Edina rears her academic palm!
While to thy precepts listening, gathers round
Attentive youth from each far-distant shore,
And bigot envy droops beneath the ray
Of thy superior lustre! In whose heart
Dwells candour, inmate of the truly great,
And modest diffidence. Whom judgment sage
By long experience taught, directs to fix
The bounds of theory, ne'er own'd a guide
But where observance faithfully severe
Hath ceased to pry; yet by her labours skill'd,
As with a glance, nicely to separate
What vulgar minds by seeming likeness caught,
Absurdly blend; and deem thy conduct rash

Till they behold with wonder health array
Those cheeks in rosy mantle, lately view'd
As death's pale harbingers. For to thy eye
Memory her fairest tablet swift presents,
And method gives that readiness of thought
By them ascribed to fancy, but which springs
From painful application. Say wilt thou
Accept our tributary verse? Thou wilt.
For in thy breast the softer graces dwell,
Nor hath philosophy with stern controul
Lessen'd the milder virtues of the man;
Thine is the liberal breath of friendship, thine
Compassion's unaffected ardour, thine
The husband's and the father's tender love,
And warm benevolence incircling all.

At length, from stricter vigilance, the child
Is freed, O mother, wean'd from thy embrace.
Yet tho refused thy bosom, still attend
With guardian mind, still prize our lays, for thee,
For him, attuned; sincere, however else
Wanting due ornament; nor haply needs
Important truth the vivid dress of words,

The tinsel decorations which the song
Inferior claims. Nine moons are past, twelve more
As we have taught, proceed; such thrifty fare
Is best; thy child's pure nature doth not ask
Variety of meats. He thrives, He grows,
His cheeks unsullied bloom, his soul expands,
Thou seest his smiles, his gay incessant voice
Resounds; what covets thy fond wish? And now
His strength increased, his more elastic limbs
By constant motion exercised, his teeth
Given for utility, not shew, demand
Food more substantial. Yet, by every grace
Which doth, or ought to inspire the female breast,
By holy temperance, by every nice
Exciting sensibility, but chief
By that internal sting which goads the soul
To potent love of offspring, I conjure,
I charge thee, mother, friend, with strict regard
Consult thy child's unvitiated taste.
Oh! as thou would'st the invenom'd adder shun,
Renounce their false opinion, who, seduced
By ignorance misjudging, think whate'er
Delights their grosser appetites, will please

Will suit his unhabituated lip;
And thus unknowing, but with liberal hand,
Cherish their babes with poison. Wretched race!
Unconscious criminals! Murthering thro love
The hapless beings they would die to save.

By social laws estranged from nature's paths,
We lead an artificial life; and feel
Unnumber'd wants, which indolence begets
On fond imagination. Polisht high,
The cultivated manners yield no doubt
Joys of superior kind; hence speaks the stone
At sculpture's touch, the breathing canvas lives,
And poetry and music fire the soul.
A thousand nameless elegancies mix
Our jarring minds, and by collision soft
Vanquish their native roughness; modest love
Binds her enchanting cestus; on our steps
The Graces wait; we drop the tear humane
Of sacred pity; and benevolence
Tho powerless to relieve, affords a sigh.
The chaster genius of convivial mirth
Around our table smiles, and drives far off

Brutal ebriety; profusion yields
The place to neatness; and the internal sense
Is caterer to the external. Thus upraised
By slow degrees from barbarism obscure
Man gains his elevation. Oh! how blest,
Could ever-roving fancy be content!
But always on the wing she strains her flight
In quest of novelty, Hence every thread
Fine-stretch'd before, must still be finer drawn.
Our polisht manners turn to frivolous;
The soul of art neglected, we behold
The outward shew; unskill'd to comprehend
The large design, on parts minute, on toys,
And splendid colourings we doat; reject
The strain emphatic, curious of the phrase
Uncommon, or sonorous period round;
And music must surprize, not charm the heart.
To elegance succeeds the spurious brood
Of soft voluptuousness. Love, holy love,
The fairest flower life's garden e'er can boast,
Falls to the ground, and changeful wantonness
Rank particolou'd weed springs forth, sure bane
To every virtue. Pity dwindles down

To mean self-love; and seeming generous,
We're but the slaves of vanity. We seek
We covet the protracted meal, and still
Goad, as it palls, our jaded appetite
With new incentives. Ransack every clime,
Commerce the boasted cause, for every rare
And stimulating condiment, spread o'er
Our northern boards the spices of the south,
Adapted to it's habitants, to us
Noxious, and only fit to gratify
The sense debauch'd which loathes its proper fare.

For by cold gales our muscles firmly braced
Act with due force: Or else the ethereal stream
Perhaps condensed, flows stronger from the brain,
And gives to every limb its healthful tone.
Not so beneath more torrid heavens, there sink
The vital powers, to mortal languor doom'd,
Unless excited by the quickening warmth
Of aliment more active. What to them
Nature commands, to us her laws forbid.
And though unconscious of immediate ill,
At length the stomach, harasst and o'erworn

By this licentious diet, fails; the pulse
Weakly contracts, each nerve decays, old age
Hastes immaturely on, and round the brow
Scatters untimely snows. The softer sex
Indulging thus, besides the common lot,
Suffer peculiar accidents, which well
The skilful muse, if so inclined, could sing.
E'en accidents which thwart the general law,
Nor to their much-desiring souls allow
To clasp a child, and bear a mother's name.

But whether thou beneath the sordid yoke
Of luxury wilt not bend, and truly wise,
Refined, but not enervate, view'st with joy
The plain and frugal table, such as erst
Angels and Patriarchs sought: Or whether warp'd
By tyrant custom, as we blushing own
Many there are in these degenerate days,
Women, the worst of epicures; remove
Far from thy children each high-seasoned dish,
Each sauce impregnate with the seeds of fire,
Each spice, and pungent vegetable, none
Admit, of foreign or of native growth

Short is the time stretch'd to its utmost date
Of man's existence; to contract thy own
Intent, yet spare thy child; draw not a veil
O'er the young morn of life: From thee he springs,
Would'st thou so quickly trace his setting beam?
Plunged in death's sable wave ere thou hast run
Thy own brief day? Daughter of fashion! no.
Though all thy relative affections fade,
And every soft sensation droops beneath
The sickly blast of pleasure, tho thou flit'st
On giddy plume and thoughtless, mid the wilds
Of vanity and folly, we acquit
Thy devious soul of wilful homicide.
Read then our moral page, and better taught,
Know right from wrong, and sense, by action, prove.
Should'st thou reject our lays, as who can scan
The deeds of mad caprice? Well-pleased we turn
From gay saloons, from courts, from haughty wealth,
And midnight riot, to more gentle scenes,
Sure of the spotless heart, and its applause.

Learn from thy child, O parent! He will teach
Full oft the diet suited to his frame.

View with what marks of loathing, he at first
Rejects the hot and acrid; instinct dwells
Within, a faithful guard; his rapid pulse
And native warmth by these are quickly urged
Beyond their bounds. He relishes the bland,
And to thy taste insipid; these controul
Each motion, nor permit his heat to rise
Above its due degree. Nor less he shuns
Destructive Bacchus; why then will his sire
By frequent repetition strive to o'ercome
Nature's dislike? why, but because himself
Fond of the rosy god, and led astray
By reverend prejudice, he wholesome deems
The fever-stirring draught? Nor wants he names
Of high authority, physicians sage
To justify his creed. But use destroys
The benefit he seeks, and if disease
Should wine's assistance claim, it then may lose
Its medicinal power. To every word
Each act attentive, children imitate
Whate'er they see or hear; this principle
Strongly within their little breasts alive,
Impels them oft to venture hardy war

Against antipathy. Of this beware,
The struggle nicely mark, and point their aim
To proper objects. Nor because you praise
The circling glass, and they with many a sip
Vanquish their feelings, deem that nature prompts
To what, except more rarely, it abhors.

Indulge aversion, combat with desire;
A maxim safe and just; for this, by art
Misled, may urge to danger, but to abstain
Will prove at least innocuous. Nor believe
That from ourselves we judge, and interdict
What our own taste refuses. When the frame
Is perfect, when the fibres have acquired
Their utmost growth, more steady are the laws
Of our corporeal organs, less disturbed,
To change less subject. Never would I shun
The friendly intercourse of souls, which wine
In moderate draughts augments. We know its power
To cheer the wretch desponding and forlorn
Upon the sickly couch; to mitigate
Stern fever's putrid vehemence; excite
The torpid heart, till it propell anew

The languid-circling blood, in every vein
More strenuously alive; to calm the rage
Of phrenzy, and imagination's tide
Vague-shifting to controul, till reason smile.
Full well we know it's power to raise the strength
Of drooping age, and in his sluggish limbs
Awake the latent fire. But childhood needs
No foreign aid to stimulate the brain.
Ever with rapid speed from forth that fount
Of heat and motion bursts the nervous stream;
Each irritable fibre is full-fraught
Almost to excess, nor asks the least supply.
Canst thou improve on nature? She this store
Puts to its proper use; this urges on
In due proportion each increasing tube,
Muscle, and bone, and ligament. Canst thou
Direct her actions? Rather shalt thou find
To exceed, will cause defect, thy child curtail'd
Of his just size and stature, weak, and wan.
And should be rush hereafter, madly rush
Amid the intemperate herd, and daily seek
The noisy rout of Comus, how, too late
Wilt thou repentant mourn thy rash exploit,

His appetite first led astray by thee,
His early relish of the fervid bowl!

Nice, and perhaps erroneous in their plan,
The younger animals as yielding less
Of due nutrition, and digested slow,
Some disallow. That, food prepared from those
Of growth mature, thro the intestinal maze
Less tardily proceeds, we not deny:
More acrid are its juices, doubtless thence
More stimulating; but its fibres hard
Remain, unwrought to chyle. The young are bland,
Composed of humours suited to the young,
Viscous, nutritious, slower in their course.
But as the absorbents greedily imbibe
Whate'er is nutritive, by this delay
They drink their fill, and to the solids add
The mild tenacious substance. Yet, not bound
To partial theory, without reserve
We bid thee take thy choice of all the tribes
Which bounteous heaven affords, and common use
Before thee sets, of every age and size.
All but the stall'd, and cramm'd, by filthy sloth

And gluttony, perverted from the state
Of wholesome nature; send the mass corrupt
Of nauseous humours, and of rancid oil
Far from thy board. In simplest manner drest,
Of these one daily meal we grant thy child,
But not commixt, his be one dish alone.
Grudge not with these of vegetable store
A plenteous portion, nor permit the bread
To lye untouch'd beside him. Thus indulge
His appetite, and let him freely eat
Till hunger be sufficed. This rule observe;
All animals which wildly range the earth,
Or fluid air, and all of vigorous age
With flesh of darker grain, experience finds
More alkalescent, these the freer use
Of plants and herbs acescent will demand.
The tame, the young, and those of whiter hue,
Require them less. Heed well what we condemn;
All things which housewife art with care preserves,
Acid, or salt, or saccharine: all cates
Of unfermented flour composed, or those
Of fulsome sweetness, and enrich'd with wine.

These let thy child avoid. And be his drink
The purest element, with which of old,
Heroes, and champions at the Olympic games,
Sated their thirst, and glorious deeds perform'd,
In war, and manly exercise; or he
The heaven-devoted Nazarene, to whom
Cords were as threads, when fired with holy zeal
He burst his bonds, and with his single hand
Hew'd down opposing armies. Hence each spring,
And limpid fountain, every stream which flow'd
Soft-murmuring o'er its pebbled bed, was graced
By wise antiquity with hallowed forms,
Pure nymphs, and gentle naiads. Well they knew
The virtues of the crystal wave, e'er vile
Fermented liquors had enslaved their taste,
And thinn'd mankind. Pass we the Atlantic foam,
Where Britain o'er her alien sons now claims
Disputed sway; a hardy people there
Inhabited, bold, active, in the chace
Unequall'd, patient of fatigue, to foes
Though unrelenting, yet to honour just,
True to their plighted faith, to strangers kind,

Not one of limb deform'd, or trembling nerve
Among them dwelt, and numerous were the tribes.

We did not root them out with savage hand,
And bathe their fields in blood, but to their lips
More slyly proffer'd the Circean charm.
They drank the poison down, and by degrees
Relinquish'd their paternal fields to us.
Rare, scatter'd are their clans, some quite extinct,
Potent of yore, ere the destroying draught
Was introduced. The remnant are corrupt,
Perfidious, treacherous; European cups
Have taught them every European vice.
Still flourishing perhaps, had they disdain'd
The snare, contented with the simple streams
Which issue from their rocks. Give then thy child
The blameless fluid, friendly to mankind,
From whence, Hygeia fills her sacred urn,
Nectar of paradise; nor will he gain
Unless debauch'd, a liquor to his taste
More grateful. Nay, would'st thou, if age permit,
And strength unbroken, thy example add,
Trust me no other beverage will so well

Assist digestion, none the spirits cheer,
Inspire with calm serenity the mind,
And make the night glide by in tranquil sleep.

But lo! where with Vertumnus comes the Nymph
Presiding o'er the garden, in her hand
Waves Amalthea's horn, whence prodigal
Her freshest store descends. She asks me, why
This long neglect? And bids me sing her gifts.
Her various fruits, whose juices the warm sun
By secret fermentation hath matured
From aqueous, acid, bitter, and austere
To rich luxurious flavour. Hither lead
The childish train indulgent, let not fear
In scanty measure to their taste impart
The ripe and wholesome banquet. Still while roll
The summer months along, while heat intense
Darts through our frame, and stimulates our nerves,
Till languor each o'erlabour'd thread subdue,
And in each tube the purple current teems
With seeds of putrid violence, to them
The summer months innocuous roll along,

Innocuous glows the fervid sky, controul'd
Their baneful influence by Pomona's aid.

For them, unsparing, for we scarce can set
The limits of restriction, pluck thy fruits,
Nature's delicious antidote 'gainst all
The hidden venom of the sultry year,
Mild, cooling, saponaceous, nutritive.
For them the blushing berry underneath
Its verdant leaf is hid, for them adorns
Its rough and prickly shrub, for them depends
The clustering currant from its smoother stem.
For them is deck'd each tree. The ruddy peach,
The golden apricot, the cherry, boast
Of Kentish soil, the fragrant nectarine,
The plum, green, purple, azure, the moist pear,
The apple, theme of the Silurian Bard,
In fulness of profusion grow for them.
Nor would I when by chance more vigorous suns
Its harshness meliorate, not cull for them
The autumnal grape, nor to their lips forbid
The well-rear'd melon, nor the Ananas' rich
And poignant crispness. They are form'd for all,

And all for them. More cautiously supply
Whate'er by rough and bitter husk and shell
Is circumscribed, and all the hoard which asks
The mellowing hand of age. Or those we gain
From climes far-distant, ere they have acquired
Their just perfection gather'd; shaddock crude,
Pomegranate, orange. Let Hesperia's Sons,
Let the Antillean Planter, or the tribes
Of fertile Asia, gratify their taste
With all the unlabour'd bounty of their soil;
Yet is not our's ungrateful; industry
Here cloaths our fields, our gardens, and our groves,
With plenty all its own; Pomona smiles;
For cultivation oft bestows a zest,
Which wild exuberant nature would deny.

Ere yet we close the strain, one error more
The muse will combat. Tenderness may prompt
Whene'er thy child shall ask thee, to bestow
The needless viand. In his younger days
We bound thee not to rules. But now when o'er
His head four annual suns have roll'd, advise
That he be taught submission to the laws

Of social life, which stated hours appoints
For action, and repast. Nor heed the voice
Of ignorance, which talks of exercise,
And quick digestion. Often well we know
The vicious taste of idle wantonness
Demands restraint. But lest to thee it seem
As real hunger, from the coarser loaf,
A pure, tho homely nutriment, supply
His craving; thus, with certainty detect
Fictitious appetite. His other meals
Yet undirected, both at morn and eve,
Be fresh-drawn broths, and milk in various forms
With rice, or other farinaceous grain
Inspissated. We would not stint thy child,
And know his growth requires a constant flux
Of plastic fluids; nay, 'tis best to err,
If err, in quantity; the flexile tubes
Of children, will perhaps with ease transpire
What is redundant. But with heed observe:
Add thy discretion to the muse's lore:
And reason, and experience be thy guides.

Now duly taught by thy maternal care,
O never may he turn his vagrant steps
Aside, to dwell mid the polluted tents
Of bestial luxury! We would not wish
A stoical indifference, to fly
Forever those delights which sway mankind,
The exhilarating bowl, which opes the heart;
And festive banquet, where preside the powers
Of wit and decent mirth; but may he live,
Born for society, no hermit sour,
Or driveling moralist, absurdly grave,
And singularly dull. Temperate by choice,
But not austerely abstinent. By thee
Is the foundation in his primal years
Firm laid, by which he need not sacrifice
To rigid niceness; but with health his friend,
Will not start back from every little change,
Which weaker habits must with caution shun,
Or cannot with impunity indulge.
Thine is the work, and gratitude shall then
Repay the debt, the filial debt he owes.
Then shalt thou feel, tho strong the instinctive tie
Of blind affection, what sublimer joys

Reason affords, the generous mutual bond,
Thy tender love, his tribute of the soul.

Thus far the Muse Didactic hath essay'd
Her purposed theme, scattering before the steps
Of truth and science, o'er their toilsome paths
The not unfrequent flower; the sweets which bloom
On those delicious banks forever green,
Fed by translucent rills, which murmuring sweep
O'er sands of gold; where fancy loveliest nymph
Delighted strays, or with the sylvan powers,
Dryads, and fauns, disporting, joins the dance,
And sings her wildest note; or silent stands,
Her roving eye, her giddy step enthrall'd,
Attentive to Minerva's heavenly voice,
Enamour'd of her wisdom; and from her
Receives the potent wand by judgment form'd,
And waves it o'er her works, which thence remain
Unfading and immortal. Rest not here
O Virgin, still be infant man thy theme;
And what of cloathing, what of exercise
He needs, relate: nor his diseases scorn
With hand benign to paint, and teach the cure.

Thou wilt not, if the sharp inclement air
Of cold neglect freeze not thy vital warmth,
And in the cave of solitude fast bind
Thy wings aspiring, which shall shed their plumes
Of varied die, or fold thee ever round
In sullen indignation. Rather far
From thee be thoughts like these! Stoop not thy soul
To fears of vulgar nature; high above
This sordid earth direct thy piercing eye,
And view where rear'd beyond the gulph of death
Stands fame's refulgent dome, to living wight
Aye inaccessible. Still, as of yore
Thou sought'st the Ascrean, or the Mantuan bard,
Thy visions spread before my raptured sight,
And soothe my ear with those celestial strains,
Which on Olympus' lofty top reclined,
Charm Jove himself: while virtue, reason, truth,
Humanity, and Jove, each sound applaud,
And bless the unprostituted lyre. Oh! hail
Ye pure, ethereal bards, who nobly stoop'd
To teach mankind! who round the flowing locks
Of fancy, cast the sacred wreathe, inwove
By the fair fingers of utility,

Which scorns caprice, and whim, amusive toys,
And trifles vain, the unprofitable gawds
Which catch the light and airy mind of youth,
Or vacant pleasure! Hail again ye bards!
Nor only ye of Greece and Rome, who first
Stole from the croud profane my chastened thoughts,
And as I gazed upon your page, inspired
The holy frenzy of ambitious love,
Aiming with ardent, but successless toil,
To emulate your beauties! Ye too hail
Ye sons of Britain! Masters of the song!
Thou Akenside, late wept by every muse,
Whose skilful hand unlock'd the secret source
Of mental pleasure, founded in the new,
The graceful, and sublime! Nor blind to worth,
Tho still upon this wave-worn shore it stand
Of troublous life, by envy's blasts assail'd,
Be thou ungreeted, Armstrong, in my verse,
Thou Parent of the prophylactic lay!
Nor Mason, thou, whose polisht taste instructs
To form the English garden, mingling art,
With rural wildness, and simplicity!
Nor Beattie, friend of truth, whose gothic harp

As if from magic touch, emits such tones,
That e'en Apollo might his lyre forget,
And wonder at the harmony; while pleased,
In Edwin's ripening genius, we behold
The progress of thy own! Hail too ye friends
Of nature, and the muse, of soul refined,
Of judgment unimpair'd, by slavish art
Unmanacled, who, feeling, dare confess
The pleasure which ye feel! who, mid the scenes
Of calm retirement, from the genuine cup
Nectareous, virtue-crown'd, drink true delight!
While the mad riotous crew at distance heard,
Disturb not your pure ears, nor ought inspire
But pity and contempt? To you alone
These bards have sung, to you alone I sing.

O let me mingle with the hallowed band,
By you exalted! Let me scorn with you,
The base, luxurious, dissipated great;
Who to the yoke of every foreign vice
Bow down the neck disgraceful, and retain
Only the name of Britons. Strangers they
To every wish, each thought of nobler kind,

Absorb'd in selfish joys, of public good,
Of private virtue, heedless. Skill'd to game,
To waste their trifling hours beneath the shade
Of indolence, to steer the fragile bark
O'er the smooth wave of folly. They applaud
What taste condemns; their highest excellence,
To deck with richest offerings the vain shrine
Of those musicians, who distort the most
The native elegance, and most pollute
Each charm of melody; or those who urge
The human voice divine to heights which well
Madness might emulate: While Jackson's strains,
Breathing in every note the soul of love,
Of passion, feeling, sense, and sentiment,
Flow unrewarded; save that nature stands
Listening, and drinks in every thrilling sound.
Delicious, but unprofitable meed
Of elevated genius! Fond of shew,
Of pompous scenes, of barren novelties,
Of tortured incidents, and poor finesse,
Filch'd from the Gallic, or Italian stage,
They relish not, while they pretend to admire
Our Shakespeare's matchless energy. The voice

Of wisdom they despise; the sacred lyre
They trample in the dust; a catch, a glee,
A song obscene, a libel, which destroys
Some good man's peace of mind, and blasts his fame,
Strikes their weak souls with rapture. Wedded love
They flout to scorn; posterity with them
Is lighter than a shade; a rapid whirl
Of vice fantastic hurries on their lives;
And e'en the flatterer, whom they feed, would blush
To praise their memory. Is this the race,
O Britain, nurse sublime of heroes old,
Of patriots, sages, who thy state have raised
To its all-envied height! Is this the race
Destined to guide thy counsels? form thy laws?
Croud thy once-awful senate? Against these,
Must public spirit idly strain the nerve?
To these, must worth, and modest merit yield?
The reptile spawn of insignificance,
Corruption-foster'd? Then farewell to all
Thy boasted glories! Stile thyself no more
The Queen of nations; levell'd with the mean
And undistinguish'd kingdoms of the earth.
Thou hast been free! The Æra will arrive;

Thou shalt be free no more! O'er folly, vice,
Aristocratic faction shall usurp,
Or bold, and enterprising monarchy
With justice claim dominion. 'Tis most fit.
Amid the extensive records of mankind,
It ne'er was found that freedom could survive
Where honour dwelt not; where with careless eye,
Or, but intent on pleasure, luxury sat
And view'd her chain, unmoved; where love of fame,
Where the keen hopes of future praise, no more
Awoke the generous deed, the grateful praise,
Paid by posterity to liberal souls,
Who plan the good of ages. Yet, at once
Quit not this isle O virtue! In the scenes,
The lower scenes of action, linger still.
Far from the plague-struck capital, inspire
The honest individual; in his soul
Cherish the warm affections; let him feel
The joys of unpolluted love, and think
His offspring worth his care! Still may'st thou walk
On Isca's banks, where thro the blooming vale
Its lucid stream meanders, and receive
The orisons, which there thy votaries pour

From hearts unconscious of deceit, untaught
The false refinements of superior life!
Blest by the muse, in nuptial friendship blest,
Forbid the external sight of things, within
Illumed by goodness, and the beams serene
Which taste, which wisdom, and contentment shed,
May Blacklock still enfold thee! May'st Thou dwell
From pride far distant, from the tyrant sway,
And noon-tide glare of vanity, with him,
And his compatriots! Drop the expressive tear
O'er Gregorys' tomb; in whom alive, combined
All, that the sapient head, or feeling heart,
Proclaim; and admiration, and esteem,
And reverence, move! Then cast thy eyes around,
And own thou ne'er beheld'st a soil more pure!
A soil, where manly parts, and sense acute
Spontaneous rise, and every female grace
Adorns with innocence and chaste reserve
The matron's bosom. Spite of southern pride,
The rancorous lye, or partial ridicule,
Its sons and daughters perfect in their kind.
In bravery, worth unquestion'd, strength of soul,
In modest tenderness, domestic charms,

Tho equall'd, ne'er surpast. Thus may'st thou still
Preserve a few from the contagious air
Which luxury breathes! A remnant whence to learn
What Britons erst have been! Preserve them Heaven!
And when they cast the page of flattery by,
Let them with kindred warmth these notes approve,
And say, the strains are our's, for us attuned,
And for the sake of children yet unborn.

END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

BOOK IV.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction.—Address to Mr. Codrington.—Subject of the book proposed, viz. cloathing, heat, and cold.—Nature still to be attended to.—Infants not so susceptible of cold as is generally imagined.—Other causes occasioning their first cries.—Might bear even severity of cold tho naked.— Their cloathing to be light and perfectly easy.—Animadversion on different treatment of them, not so necessary now, as when swathing was more in use.—Description of that custom, and its ill effects.—Daughters were confined still longer.—The unnatural attempt to procure them what was called a fine shape, ridiculed.—No part of the body to be loaded.—The head, the legs, and feet to be uncovered.— Cleanliness insisted on.—Regard due to good servants, and nurses.—Excess of heat to be avoided, whether communicated by contact, or by weight of bed-cloaths.—Communicated warmth when particularly useful.—Cold Bath recommended. —Apostrophe to the Springs, Rivers, &c.

Sweet is the breath of fame, and o'er the soul
Of youth, on fancy's pinions wafted back,
The daring visitor of times unknown,
And future ages, like a spicy breeze
Steals her delicious fragrance; like a breeze
From Zeylon or Sumatra, which enchants
The sailor's heart, tho night involves the coast,
And hides its lovely foliage from his view:
While in his mind he sees the blooming groves,
And haply thinks them fairer than they are.

Sweet o'er my bosom stole the breath of fame
In early life, on fancy's pinions borne;
The ideal prospects rose supremely fair,
And in extatic vision I beheld
Perennial bays distinguishing my tomb.
For not unuseful, or of light import

The strains I sung. And tho mid glades obscure
Dwelt the sequester'd muse, from riot far,
From pomp imperious, and the lordly board
Begirt with servile flatterers, yet her breast
By human kindness sway'd, where'er had pierced
The British language, manners, arts, and arms,
Revered the good; and base-born envy dead,
Or vanquisht, or engaged with living worth,
Exulted in the esteem of times to come,
And virtue's mutual friendship unreserved.
In distant continents, where horrid war
Now stains with brother's blood the guilty soil,
In distant islands, mid their nodding palms,
And growing sweets, her eyes survey'd with joy
The willing parent bending o'er her lay.

Dear to the youthful mind, ye prospects hail!
Ye visions wide-removed! for deep Ye thrill'd,
Fixing, as real, all your traces there.
And, if illusive all, yet riper age
Can scarce believe the flattering scenes untrue,
Or cease the vivid colours to behold
Bright glowing thro the shadowy lapse of years.

Meanwhile, O Codrington! whose generous heart
Blames not the tenor of my partial song;
By whom uncensured flows the self-applause.
Whose temper, mild as an autumnal sky,
No cloud obscures; with feelings warm, yet ruled
By cautious judgment, in whose breast resides
Friendship's pure heaven-descended flame; alive
To all a parent's fondest love; yet both
Under superior reason's nice controul
Directed to their truest end and use!
For thee, and such as thee, an audience small,
In space and number circumscribed, by wealth,
By rank and titles undebased, again
I venture the Pierian spring to seek,
And tread on sacred ground. How difficult
Where, thro the laurel-groves, and myrtle shades,
The verdant alleys, lawns, and rising slopes,
Thick strewn with flowers of every various hue,
Of every various season, elegance,
Coy nymph, unsated wanders, on each scene
With curious eye commenting, from the sweets,
The never-fading blooms, each virid arch,
Selecting meetest garlands, to suspend

Upon the tree of taste, most eminent
In the poetic region, underneath
Whose fragrant shelter, Phœbus and the Nine
In chorus met, attune their happier strains
Of rarest harmony: How difficult,
By health and youth attended, to pursue
The bashful maid, attract her favouring eye,
And woo her to bestow a single wreathe!

Can I then hope, whom sickness long hath drench'd
In her Lethæan dews, with feeble limbs,
And wan complection, from her hands to bear
Those gifts, which unpossest, my lays must creep
Dully monotonous, nor touch the heart,
Nor win the approving mind? Yes witness thou!
Witness my friend! Who know'st the human frame,
Each drug of cordial, each of healing power,
To me in vain administer'd, what toil
I must experience now, the nymph to trace
Through her meand'ring walks! what partial chance
Should she my languid homage not disdain!

Yet, thy inciting voice, the conscious thought
Sprung from the love of kind, which tells me all
Will not be frustrate, nor the darling wish
Of public good be wholly unfulfill'd;
Some loitering rays of that once brighter flame
My soul enkindling, prompt me to a task
Long interrupted: Where in slumbers deep
It rests, to awaken the Didactic Lyre;
With its more solemn notes to mingle tones
(So they to memory fail not to recur)
Oft heard of yore, as toward the lucid fount
I stole, not unforbidden; tones which please
Heighten'd the more by contrast, and engage
Amusive the charm'd ear, till it imbibe
Instruction with delight, till melody
Not the chief object seem, its liquid voice
Yielding to reason's energy divine.

Of cloathing now, of heat, and cold we sing,
Unanimating themes; but which require
The attention of the bard, as not of use
Inferior to the subjects which erewhile

He strove to adorn; nor claiming notice less
From the true bosom of parental love.

Still heed we nature, and her guiding steps
Pursue; nor, tho with moans, and plaintive cries
From his concealment issues to the light
Man's tender progeny, believe, he feels
The external air his undefended frame
Keenly invade. These moans, these cries proceed
From other causes. To his lungs at once,
Expanding their nice substance, rushes in
The forceful air. The circulating blood
Alters its course, thro channels unessay'd
Impell'd, whose first resistance haply claim
Exertions of the labouring heart, quick, strong,
If not convulsive, yet irregular.
Exertions of the lungs themselves, to gain
Their necessary powers, and genial spring.
Add too that oft each muscle, every limb
Strain'd and comprest, scarce bears the gentlest touch,
Sore from the late hard conflict undergone,
And agonies maternal. But to cold,
Know, he is born impassive; or at least

With vital warmth supplied, to render vain
Its most severe assault; beyond the scale
Of heat which stimulates maturer age.

He needs not art's assistant hand, or dress
Of studied care. Uncloath'd, in wilder climes,
Like the more hardy natives of the soil,
E'en in the polar regions, he might brave
The freezing atmosphere. Nay, unwithheld
By dubious fears, tho placed indeed beneath
More favouring skies, there are, who from his birth
Plunge the infant stranger in the gelid wave,
Where unappall'd the mother too enjoys
The bath's refreshing coolness. But, nor harsh,
Nor fanciful, we shall not recommend
To thee, more delicate in form and mind,
Daughter of Britain, these examples, drawn
From savage nations, and from tribes remote.
Cloath'd be thy child; so polisht custom wills,
And decent manners: but in airy garb,
Loose, and uncinctured. Thus he shall avoid
The torment of accumulated heat,
Nor from unnatural coercion feel

Distress and anguish. With minuter rules
To croud the page, and dull, or quaint, describe
His vesture, what materials should compose
Each article, and whether by the loop,
Or pin restrain'd, tho as the last may bring
Danger, nay death, the caution which forbids
Its use, above the trivial-seeming cause
Important rises, descants such as these,
Prolixly mean, would argue in the muse
Failure of judgment, no respect to Thee.
Suffice the general maxim; to dilate,
And to the test each consequence reduce,
Be thine. Bright glows the warm maternal soul,
And clear, illumined by a hint alone.

Nor flows with that necessity the strain,
As erst it might, when barbarous hands around
The new-born Babe fold over fold inwreath'd
The circling band. Amid the wanton gales
Which luxury breathes, amid the changeful swarms
Which fashion decks in her cameleon hues,
Amid the increasing follies of our age,
And vices not perhaps destructive less

Than those of old, tho softer, milder far,
Link'd with humanity, and taught to charm,
To poison by politeness; justice owns,
While the rough virtues of our ancestors
And manly genius we no more behold:
Our souls revolt from habits which enslaved
Unamiable their minds, and from the sway
Of prejudice, whose galling shackles long
Their vigorous faculties controul'd. This truth
Justice confesses, this, the instructive muse.

Gladly, O mother! We congratulate
Thy infant, who from life's first dawn enjoys
His birth-right, who the vital air at will
Inhales, nor feels corporeal bonds. With me
Revert thine eyes, and lo! their hapless sons,
How braced and pinion'd, who to extend the reign
Of civil liberty, with ardour toil'd,
Who fought, who bled to extend it. Nor escaped
The race preceding our's. See, where they lye,
True objects of compassion! round them close
Is fixt the painful bandage, not a limb
Can move; sad victims to the erroneous creed

100

Which holds that nature incompletely acts
And forms defective works, that art may give
The strength by her refused, and perfect thus
The unfinisht system, gasping they recline
In real martyrdom. The shriek is heard,
The groan, the sob expressive, but in vain.
In vain the little captive, as awhile
Released from durance, utters sounds of joy,
Stretches his arms well-pleased, and smiles, and casts
His looks delighted on the cheerful blaze,
Or waving taper. To his fetters soon
Remanded, he in vain attempts to cope
With arbitrary power, each effort tries,
Shews by each deed the abhorrence which he feels,
Adding the emphatic eloquence of tears,
Of inarticulate, but deep distress,
And struggles all-impassion'd to be free.

With pity and contempt thy soul beholds
This picture. What calamities ensued,
Experience proved; but idiot bigotry
Confess'd them not. The evolving principle
Within, the plastic juice augmenting size,

101

Thus partially impeded, could not urge
The destined fibres onward, or enlarge
By due accretion e'en the vital cells
Requiring speediest growth. Yet active still,
In disproportion'd manner, to the head
Unseemly bulk they added; or the joints
Distended, and relax'd. Or oft from pain
Shrinking, the child, uconscious but of ease,
Curved by forced attitudes the flexile bones,
Nay the all-supporting spine. The obstructed breath,
The fluids in their circulating course
Unnaturally check'd; the irriguous glands;
The fount whence motion, and sensation spring,
And future intellect, the brain itself,
Disturbed, or with more lasting injury
Impress'd, exclaim'd at this preposterous war,
The war which Step-dame art with nature waged.

Call'd by society to tread the paths
Of busy life, from its hard slavery soon
The stronger sex was freed; and ere too late,
Haply by nature's potent air restored,
Could boast a frame of vigour unimpair'd,

102

And undeformed. But to long sufferings doom'd,
The female race, so will'd perverted taste,
For many a year pined underneath the force
Of this domestic torture. For as erst
The mother strove to assist their infant nerves,
And give to weakness strength: She now assay'd
Her progeny to embellish, and their shape
To mould, as fancied beauty in her eye
Deceptive shone, Heaven! that the human mind
Warp'd by imagination, should believe,
Or e'en suggest it possible, the form,
Whose archetype the Deity himself
Created in his image, could be changed
From it's divine proportion, and receive
By alteration, comeliness and grace!
That round the zone which awkwardly reduced
E'en to an insect ligament the waist,
The blooming loves should sport, enticing charms,
And young attractions! Heaven! that e'er a bard,
(The genuine bard is nature's sacred priest)
Forgetful of his charge, should deck with praise
As fair and lovely, what would strike the soul
Unwarp'd by custom, as a subject fit

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For scorn, indignant spleen, or ridicule.
Yet Prior! tho nor taste nor reason blend
Their essence with the verse, while lasts the tongue
Thy numbers help'd to polish, while the powers
Of melody bear sway, the verse shall live,
Beauteous description of a gothic shape.

Oh! may the manners of thy nut-brown maid,
Her artless truth, simplicity of soul,
Her fondness, and intrepid constancy,
Long in the bosoms of the British fair,
Tho banish'd every other region, dwell,
Delighted inmates! May their eyes still beam
With all her speaking rays, their cheeks endue
Her modest crimson! But may never more
“The boddice aptly laced” their panting hearts
Confine, or mutilate that symmetry
Of limb and figure, whence a Zeuxis' hand
His all-accomplish'd Helen might have form'd,
Or a Praxiteles with happiest art
Sculptured a Venus. Tho meridian day
Behold them drest as potent fashion bids,
Girt with exterior ornaments uncouth,

104

Trappings disgustful; yet at morn, or eve,
Or when they to the genial bed repair,
Still may they charm the melting eye of love
With elegance and grace, the fabled dames
Of classic soil transcending, native grace,
And elegance unveil'd, which mocks attire.

Return digressive muse! to approach the shore
Of Cyprus, or to breathe the tepid gales
From Achedivias' island wafted round
Is not thy choice; tho Camoens' shade invite,
And Mickle with his glowing spirit fraught,
As each heroic, so each scene of joy
Paint with a master's fire unlimited
By cold translation. Never may our strain
One vague idea raise, which spotless minds
May blush to own, much less insult the glance
Of virgin purity, or harshly wound
The conjugal and chaste maternal ear.

Digressive muse return! our proper theme
Is man's first helpless state, our tuneful aid
The ingenuous parent claims. Resolved to bless

105

Thy child with ease and freedom, taught to shun
By the dire act of swathing, all constraint
So baneful, let no part escape thy care.
Nor load the head; nor till he walk abroad,
At least till firmly he can press the ground,
Cover the legs or feet. Some precepts here
To cloathing unattached, or slightly link'd,
We mean to inculcate. Need I then to thee,
O mother, whom the soul refined alone
Can prompt to inspect my numbers, recommend
The Virtues' dear correlative, (as they
The mental frame, so the corporeal, she
Adorning, rendering pure) the decent maid,
Unsullied cleanliness, with her full oft
Thy charge to visit? Not that to her shrine
E'en from thy tender years thou hast not paid
Sincerest worship. But my words believe,
Strict watchfulness the menial train require,
And if, unheedful to their trust, they slight
The grave rebuke, dismiss them from thy doors.
Not their's the nicer sense inspiring thee,
Those principles and habits now intwined
In union with thy nature. Nor is their's

106

The babe, who smarting from their sloth, with nerves
Keenly alive, by the corrosive sting
Of acrimony pierced, tormented shrieks,
Or moans incessant. Neither scorn as vain,
The dictates which succeed, from reason learn'd.

Banish the softer couch; let not thy child
Recline on down; his pliant bones but now
From cartilage emerging, on the bed
Which yields beneath his weight may haply gain,
Thus frequently recumbent, a deformed
And twisted aspect, by chirurgic skill
For ever irreclaimable. Nor less
Such accident to avoid, with cautious eye
The attendant mark, who bears him in her arms,
And let her oft his posture shift, oft change
From right to left, altern. A careless tribe,
Purchased by interest only, is the race
To servitude accustomed; trust not them.
Trust thy own judgment, let thy ruling mind
Govern each act of their's. Yet neither here,
Nor elsewhere, mean we in a general blame
To involve them all. Some from attachment serve,

107

And to constrictive duty add the tye
Of willing love. Such as a treasure prize.
A countless treasure. Say, by one of these
Is thy child foster'd? smoothe for her the brow,
The tone of high command; let all her days
Roll on illumed by kindness and esteem;
Think her thy fellow labourer and thy friend;
Alleviate every future ill of life,
And, if thou can'st, remove them. Ne'er may she
Who with maternal prudence, and the warmth
Of zeal affectionate, hath lent her aid
To form thy children, to support, to raise
From perilous estate to strength and health,
Feel the distressful sting of poverty,
Or, if the means are not withheld, in thee
Want a protector. But, if more than this,
Her bosom hath the nutriment supplied
Which thine refused, still more may she demand,
And thou in justice grant the liberal boon.

And Oh! Ingenuous Youth! whose blood now flusht
With yet unsatiated desire, quick beats
In every pulse, to mix in active life

108

Intent, or climb where science points the way!
Oh Virgin! Who with beauty deckt, and gay
In unperverted innocence, around
Survey'st thy homagers, yet covetest
One faithful heart alone. Oh! recollect
Her assiduity, her diligence,
And tender care, to which thou owest the frame
Able to cope with business, or sustain
The toil, which knowledge asks, to gather in
Her wide-spread harvest. That attentive zeal,
To which thou owest the comeliness of shape,
Those beauties which from every eye attract
The applausive glance, and every breast inspire
With love or admiration. Recollect
Not frigidly, or faintly, like the crew
Who every pleasure centre in themselves;
Not with weak indecisive apathy;
But with a bounteous and expanded soul,
Estranged from self, replete with gratitude.

Because the winged nations fondly brood
Over their unfledg'd young; because we view
Where'er reclined, her new-born offspring press

109

Close to the parent quadruped; because
By instinct irresistible impell'd
The mother longs to embrace her infant charge,
And hide it in her bosom; while thro wilds,
Or o'er the desart mountain as she roves,
The savage still her clinging babe sustains:
Some, this communicated warmth affirm
Is needful; and that man's else-drooping race
Requires the genial contact. Mindless they,
How far from nature's simpleness diverge
Our steps, our every action. Were the child
Unclad by day, unshelter'd thro the night,
We should not hesitate to recommend
What otherwise we smile at, or perchance
Hold but of dubious consequence. Our lays
Have taught what cold his system can repell
First into light immerging: And if cloath'd
As custom bids, he from himself will gain
This added warmth, condensed, and on himself
Recoiling. Better thus, than haply sunk
Beneath the load which our nocturnal rest
Demands, to feel the intense phlogistic heat
Of temporary fever, or to melt

110

In copious steam away. Much better thus,
Than by the mother or the nurse oppress'd
In heavy sleep, to frustrate all the schemes
Parental love had formed; or placed within
Some ancient hireling's bed, instead of warmth
From generous blood, and balmy breath supplied,
To warm the shrivell'd dotard. But, if laid
From thee remote, or in the couch with thine
Conjoin'd, why should'st thou not examine well
And frequently his lodgment? so inform'd,
Thou can'st not fail, O mother! to perceive
What suits his constitution, what to add,
What to subtract; doubtless thy native sense
Beyond my strains will teach thee, that when rules
Fierce Sirius, lighter vestments will suffice,
Than when Aquarius opes his full-fraught urn,
And winter arm'd with piercing frost, defies
The unwarlike sun. Thy prudent soul will know
His limbs in health, blest with the temperate mean,
Nor heat nor cold betray. Yet truth forbids
To slight exceptions which are often found
Eluding justest rules. Should some disease
Attack the child, and anguish writhe his frame,

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To shivering pain thy near approach may give
Solace and ease, nay as it were, foment,
Assuage, and lull the smart; or should he pine
With more than common weakness, from his birth
Afflicted, blasted, or untimely born
With nerves imperfect, as the exotic flower
Thrives not, but when included from the winds,
Its fibres by the sun's concenter'd rays
Are duly irritated, he may want
Thy vital stimulating heat. But soon
E'en then attempt increase of strength to give
By other means; and seek at first the bath
Of moderate temperature; by slow degrees
Proceeding, till his habit can support
The powerful shock which colder lymph imparts.

But so diffusive is the tyrant reign
Of fashion; such our table's proud excess;
Such is our love of cards, time's murderers,
Keen agitators of the gentlest breasts,
(Which ought to be the gentlest,) such those hours,
Those midnight hours, corrodent of the bloom
Which else would decorate the female cheek,

112

And animate the lips which now are pale:
Such the destructive arts, when beauty fades,
Its meretricious semblance to display,
The lifeless white, and never-varying blush;
Detected by the curious eye, which hates
The fraud, and painted Cytheræa scorns:
Such are our matrons, such, except the few,
Who nobly singular, behold, and smile
At folly's deeds absurd, that all who spring
From them, may well partake the feeble nerve,
And vapid blood, in which more faintly glows
The living principle; and what for some
We erst prescribed, we now prescribe to all,
To all their children; neither do we think
Even to them the song may flow in vain;
For should caprice applaud, who oft usurps
The throne of sense, and guides the public taste,
In her wild fit round merit's brow the wreathe
Intwining, which for folly she design'd,
They too may cast a glance across the page
Which fashion bids them read. Know then ye fair,
Whom tho my heart approves not, I behold
With truest pity; know, the unhappy babes

113

Whom you have toil'd unceasing to produce
Fragile and delicate, a word of your's
Perhaps may rescue from impending fate.
Oh! issue your commands! great is the power
Of cold: yourselves no doubt have often sought
In fervid summer its benign effects
In the salt deep, whence braced you might endure
The winter's hard campaign. And hence new tone
Your offspring shall derive, their stamina
In some degree corrected, while the force
Of nervous influence more intensely thrills
The arterial frame, and the lax muscle swells.

Ye Frigid Springs! wherever first appear
Your bubbling sources, underneath the grot,
Or pendent shade. Ye ever-living streams!
Where'er you wind pellucid thro the vales
Your pastoral mazes, or o'er rocks abrupt
Hurl down your dashing foam. Ye rivers wide!
Where'er in proud procession to the main
Your copious tribute rolls: to you my song
Should grateful rise—Ye Naiads! who direct
Each scatter'd rill, ere in coactive strength

114

They flow exuberant; to your praise attuned
Should sound the note melodious, and your names
Would I, ye nymphs recount, and joyful paint
Your attributes and virtues—But your priest,
Your favourite Akenside, his hallow'd lays
Hath not in vain effused, with pious voice
Hymning your benefits; and all around
Your sacred haunts hath cast a magic spell,
Forbidding each profaner foot, the groves,
The caves, the dells obscure where you sojourn,
And your chaste bosoms shelter from the fire
Of scorching Phœbus, wantonly to approach,
Or rudely violate. Nor shall my feet
Profanely tread your dark-embowering shades,
Nor shall my roving eye with curious search
Your deep recesses pierce. Yet, O Ye Springs!
Ye Streams! Ye Rivers clear! And thou, by whom
They all are fed, to whom they all return,
Exhaustless Ocean! with the general song
Which choral nature pours, my voice shall join
Though undistinguish'd; and with all that creep,
Or run, or fly, or vegetate, shall own
Your fructifying, life-preserving power.

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Your power, which Thales, which the Man of Thebes
Contemplating, affirm'd to listening Greece,
That water all transcends, unrivall'd, best,
The sole, prolific element of things.

Whether your moisture cloathe the exulting meads
With herbage, or slow-deluging the plain,
You fertilize the soil, while millions view
The prospect with delight, sure pledge of wealth,
Of copious-teeming harvests. Whether soft
And gentle your refreshing dews descend,
Absorbed by each inhalant leaf and flower.
Whether your rains entangle as they fall
The electric fluid, and with vital strength
Each seed inform, each fainting plant supply,
Whether you offer to the thirsty lip
Delicious draughts; or to the languid frame
Of sickness your invigorating waves
Wherein to bathe, and feel the tonic force
Of cold at every trial brace the limbs,
The heart, the brain re-act at every shock,
Till, all their pristine energy restored,
The fibres move responsive to their sway,

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And the once loitering blood propell'd anew
Warm thro its channels to the surface flows.
You, mid the general song which Nature pours,
My grateful strains shall praise. For, not unread
In Pœon's hallow'd lore, not uninform'd
By chemic art, your healing qualities
I too may boast to know; and whence derived,
From earths, or salts, or mineral particles,
Combined, suspended by attraction's laws,
Or held in union by aerial chains,
And crown'd with sprightly Gas. Hence, led by hope,
By reason led, I drank with eager lip
At those salubrious springs which make renown'd
Our British Baiæ; but the obstructing cause
Of ill, or relaxation faint remain'd;
Such mischief waits on sedentary hours,
And studious midnight thought. Hence now the shores
Of hoary Neptune, hence the sounding caves
I seek, and turn to the refreshing breeze
My pallid face, inhaling, as I sit,
The briny spray; or mark the rising sun
Beyond the vast expanse diffusing wide
His glorious beams, and at his orient light

117

Dip in the fluid element; nor breathe
To either power unheeded orisons.

Surely, not duped by fancy, I perceive
At times, as struggling to be free, the trace
Of long-forgotten feelings? And my limbs
More firmly press the beach! And toward the flood
I move, unaided by ministrant hands.

O Dawlish! though unclassic be thy name,
By every muse unsung, should from thy tide,
To keen poetic eyes alone reveal'd,
(From the cerulean bosom of the deep
As Aphrodite rose of old) appear
Health's blooming goddess, and benignant smile
On her true votary; not Cythera's fane,
Not Eryx, nor the laurel boughs which waved
On Delos erst; Apollo's natal soil,
However warm enthusiastic youth
Dwelt on those seats enamour'd, shall to me
Be half so dear. To thee will I consign
Often the timid virgin, to thy pure
Incircling waves; to thee will I consign

118

The feeble matron, or the Child on whom
Thou may'st bestow a second happier birth
From weakness into strength. And should I view
Unfetter'd, with the sound firm-judging mind,
Imagination too return, array'd
In her once-glowing vest, to thee my lyre
Shall oft be tuned, and to thy Nereids green,
Long, long unnoticed in their haunts retired.
Nor will I cease to prize thy lovely strand,
Thy towering cliffs, nor the small babbling brook
Whose shallow current laves thy thistled vale.

END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

119

BOOK V.

120

ARGUMENT.

Address to Dr. Monro and Dr. Hunter.—Death of Hewson lamented.—Dr. Black.—Subject of the book, exercise.— Previous remarks on the human frame.—Obscurity of its laws and actions.—Early tendency to locomotion to be indulged. —Sleep to be procured by constant exercise.—The cradle never to be employed.—Child not to be assisted too much in his efforts.—Benefits of exercise.—Curiosity not to be check'd.—Advantages to the body, and the formation of the mind.—Weakly, and deformed children, gain strength, and recover the misfortune, by exercise.—The Country the best place for the education of children.—Neither cold nor heat to be shunned.—All the less cultivated nations escape many diseases, particularly nervous ones, by exercise, open air, and bathing.—Daughters not to be restrained from exercise proper for them.—Bad effects of too much labour, as well as of idleness.—Origin of exercise. A supposed fragment from Hesiod.

121

To thee Monro! whose industry and skill
The muse can witness, tracing every nerve,
Each tube arterial, vein, and filament,
With the perspicuous steel illustrating
The frame of man; nor less with vivid force
Of happy diction, to the observant ear
Teaching that physiology on truth
And reason founded, which beholds design
And matchless order on the different parts
Impress their functions, and pervade the whole,
From final causes rising to the prime,
The All-wise, All-perfect: and rejecting far
From physic, from anatomy, the doubts
Of Pyrrho's followers, and the assertions lewd
Of shallow atheists; while in thee survives
Thy father's spirit, who the school upraised,
With sapient Rutherford combined, and graced

122

The chair, his son with equal lustre fills.
These strains, Monro! I consecrate to thee,
To thee, and Hunter, rivals tho you are
Yet in my heart, my verse, shall you be join'd,
Both dear to science, to your country dear,
Deserving public fame, and private love.

Shall Hewson sink untimely to the grave,
And I the note refuse? refuse to paint
His gentle manners, amiably humane,
Winning with ease their unobtrusive way
Into the breast, where friendship and esteem
With warm embrace received them? Or his soul
Inquisitive, and ardent to detect
Nature, howe'er conceal'd beneath a cloud
Obscure, and to the search of common eyes
Impenetrable? Shall I not lament
His talents render'd useless? And the bloom
Of genius wither'd in its vernal morn.

When gratitude inspires the strain, shall Black
Remain unsung? Who first the path essay'd
Which since by many a bold adventurer trod,

123

Hath open'd sources unexplored? disclosed
Subtiler essences; to new pursuits
Awaken'd chemic art? and loosed the bonds
Of its establish'd empire? No; while praise
He covets not, and shrinks from due applause,
The muse shall not in silence pretermit
His lucid facts, and philosophic toil.

Tho foremost in the ranks of being, stand
The men, who active in the cause of truth,
Divine, or moral, or to human life
Subservient, with unceasing labour ply
Their task severe; to free the embodied mind,
And it's ideas raise above the ken
Of dull mortality; by useful arts
Invented, or improved, to subjugate,
And undeceive reluctant error, bring
To the true test of just experiment
Her specious visions, and elucidate
Her dark perplexities; yet is not He
Among the lowest, who their precepts strives
More widely to disseminate, arrange
In varied order their materials, place

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Objects the same in different points of view,
Or cloath'd in fresher garb, attention win
By seeming novelty. Nor shall the bard
Howe'er condemn'd by folly, to the rank
Which petulance assigns him deign to stoop
His crest indignant, while he feels within
That living zeal, which, by occasion fired,
Would prompt his soul to dare celestial themes;
Inforce the rules of action which connect
Each social bond; or each ingenious mode
Of art unveil, whence profit or delight
Arise; and captivate with thrillings sweet
Of unluxurious pleasure the nice ear
Of sensibility: With thoughts select,
On which no vulgar images intrude,
The affections and the passions mingling bland.

Ere in our lays instructive, we proceed,
And dedicate the verse to exercise,
'Twere fit to search with deep attentive care
The human fabric, its component parts
And nature to determine, were it given

125

To poet or philosopher to treat
A subject so mysterious unreproved.

Much hath anatomy distinguish'd, much
Remains unknown; the rudiments of life
Who ever shall explore? Where dwells the power
Inherent, or acquired, which first expands
The comprehensive germ? Which moulds, propells,
And inorganic fluid can convert
To animated fibre? In the brain
Does it reside? Or in the central heart?
Or do they both their energy combine?
Is it subtile, elastic, and derived
From that ethereal essence which perchance
All space informs, and every substance fills?
Or is it from the blood by wondrous means
Secreted, render'd volatile, sublimed,
A pure, peculiar spirit? From his state
Of vegetable torpor when released,
Whate'er it be, by this the infant lives,
By this he moves; by this the absorbents bear
Their nurture from the stomach to the veins,
The wasted blood's supply, whose finer parts

126

Perpetually exhale; this gives the lungs
To play, which from the circumambient air
Its vital principle inspire, and yield
The effete mephitic vapour back again.
This stimulates the heart, and by the heart
And irritated fibres is in turn
Excited, quicken'd, strengthen'd: This extends
The solids, and enlarges, hasting on
The circulating stream. This generates,
Or is of living heat the copious fount,
Active while it exists, without it's aid
Soon changed to deadly cold. By this, the nerves
Of every various sense with speed convey
Each impulse to the brain, infixing there
The indelible ideas, there arranged,
Connected, modified, they haply form
Or seem at least to form the soul itself,
Immortal, immaterial: Hence the stores
Of wisdom are establish'd; hence the flash
Of wit bursts forth; and hence with keenest glance
Imagination darts her eye throughout
This mundane space, pierces beyond its bounds,
And worlds creates, and beings all her own.

127

Is it of Heavenly origin? A ray,
A portion of divinity, this power
Miraculously working? Guided sure
By other springs it acts than those of chance;
For what is chance but a chimæra framed
From non-existence by the breath of fools?
We see the deeds of highest intellect,
The finger of a God. Profound we bend
In adoration, and though all his ways
We know not, though implicit darkness hang
Over this universe immense, confess
That nothing short of Deity, could e'er
Conceive, or raise the edifice of man.

Yet, while the mystic elements of things
Are undiscover'd still, while hidden lye
The interior agents; while to man himself
Man is a being which his utmost pains
Have fail'd to analyse; while tho we view,
Or think we view the circling chain of life
Depending link on link, in many a part
Chasms intervene, unfill'd but by the touch
Of vague conjecture, or of fancy wild:

128

The power of observation is not given
In vain; nor handed down from age to age
Facts by experience sanctified; nor shines
Fruitless the torch of clear analogy.
Or superseding all, the purest light
The steadiest, nature yields; unerring beams
Which point the way to truth, while reason smiles,
And judgment walks secure. O Nature! thee,
Goddess benign! when first this theme I chose
In early youth, with aspiration warm
I call'd; thee vow'd to follow; unrepell'd
By art's fastidious brow, or system's frown,
Unwarp'd by theory's delusive voice.
For thou alone the faithful monitor
Art placed within; thy motions, if observed,
Forever point to good. Nor will I now
Desert thee, or retract what then I swore.
For not from thee we only learn to raise
The frame corporeal to its destined pitch
Of health and strength; to ward with certain shield
The darts of sickness; or if rushing on,
Disease o'erwhelm us with impetuous might,
To catch the rapid moment, and at once

129

Expell the foe, or waste his violence
By due protraction, till he quit the field:
But, if by tyrant habit unenslaved,
If unimpair'd by affectation vile,
And imitative manners swimming down
The stream of head-long custom; thine is all
The mental glory: virtue, taste, design
Unborrow'd, glowing thoughts, expression strong,
The full emphatic eloquence of prose,
The liquid flow of melody, the burst
Of torrent rapture, and each foaming wave
Which swells the boundless tide of verse sublime.

To nature then, with me, O Parent Mind!
Stoop lowly; and observe her impulse, rouse
From his first slumbrous state awaked, thy child.
How soon, tho active vigour be denied,
His arms, his feet, the tendency display
To loco-motion, and his roving eye
Darting swift glances; pleased that nought around
Should be at rest, nor pleased with rest himself.

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Indulging this propensity, to all
His free unfetter'd limbs allow their quick
And yet unsteady efforts; let him gain
From his attendant, what he seems to ask,
Perpetual exercise; tho not at first
To agitation violent exposed,
Or tost in playful wantonness on high,
But gradually proceeding. Treated thus,
Kept in unceasing action while awake,
He will not need the cradle's most absurd
Pernicious motion, which the giddy brain
Confuses, and benumbs; on him shall steal
A softer, sweeter, more refreshing sleep.
Nor blame the muse, whose iterated strains,
Neglecting slavish art, its use forbid:
Wishing the invention with deserved contempt
Exiled forever; with the untoward swing,
The go-cart, and the leader, be it doom'd
To blank oblivion; or preserv'd with them
Only in some museum's nitch devote,
Teach future times, from past examples wise,
More ardently to follow nature's paths,
Her simpleness to venerate, and own

131

Her all-sufficient dictates. Let thy child
Enjoy his balmy slumber uncompell'd,
Or by himself alone acquired, from due
Instinctive exercise: And let him learn,
Untaught by others, his allotted task,
To creep, to stand, to walk; and let him know
Full early no assistance will be lent
In ought which by his proper strength and skill
He can accomplish. So shall strength and skill
Hourly increase; so he by days and months
The puny infant shall excell, deprived
By doating fondness of his native powers;
Or to the care of laziness assign'd,
Who suffers him with tottering step to drag
Incumbent, while the faithful eye alone
Should watch, or ready hand with gentlest touch
Uphold. Nor think (an argument of yore
For binding every limb) his tender form
Will from his own exertions e'er receive
Substantial injury; a posture wrong
Uneasiness will prompt him to correct:
Nor will his feebleness permit the force
Inducing harm, so strictly to his weight

132

Proportion'd: and how soon, uncheck'd by art,
Inherent sense, will threatened danger shun,
Is wondrous. Vanquish then ideal fears;
And on the matt, or carpet let him sport,
And feel his growing vigour; or entice
To their extremest verge his infant sight
With becks, and smiles, and captivating toys.

For ends most wise, and most important, flows
Redundantly profuse within thy child
This active principle. By exercise
The quicken'd pulse and stimulated heart
More truly shape each fibre, give to each
Their tension, and elastic spring; urge on
In swift and properly successive waves
The crimson fluid, and from thence secern
The different humours, healthy, bland and pure.
While thro their various channels are detach'd
The recremental dregs, of acrid kind,
Or fraught with particles to human life
Destructive. Exercise supports the flame
Of life itself, that steady heat, which glows,
And with peculiar fixedness, resists

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External cold: Nor, in the torrid zone,
Where Phœbus' beams direct his fiercest ray,
Is by the scorching atmosphere increased
To morbid violence. By exercise,
The stomach unopprest, digests, concocts,
Assimilates, the generous chyle prepares,
And feels again the necessary goad
Of keenest appetite. That balance nice
With which health corresponds, of part to part,
Of muscles to their due antagonists,
Fluids to solids, to themselves, the just
Mixture, proportion, influence, strength of all;
Even the invisible ethereal stream,
As vigorous, or weak, condensed, or rare,
Sensation, passion, intellect, nay more,
Virtue, and vice, on exercise depend.

Know its advantage then; nor judge thy child
With this profusion of activity
Endow'd in vain. For nature rules within,
Sage tutoress, and he now will soon acquire
By her instinctive precepts more than years
Of labouring education can impart,

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So she be not in froward mood opposed,
Or not unseconded by thee. Behold,
And aid her movements, let him see and smell,
Hear, taste, and touch all objects at his will.
So the deceptive senses shall be fix'd;
So early repetition shall bestow
That just discrimination, that acute
Perceptive swiftness, which in future life
Seems instantaneous and intuitive,
Innate, and unpossest by second means.

Nor as with limbs more firm he treads, impede
His restless ardour, his inquisitive
And eager curiosity, which learns,
Approaching nigh, the varied form of things,
Their distance, situation, what resists,
Or yields, the innocuous, and replete with harm.
Excite, impell him forward; and when mind
Now beams apparent, and the flexile tongue,
By imitation, and habitual use,
Can utter sounds articulate, the names
Of every object teach him to repeat;
Add daily to his store of images

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Simple, and unabstracted; let him walk
Or run the verdant fields and lawns along,
Nor thou disdain to attend him, and point out
As giddy apprehension can receive,
Or roving fancy lists, each herb, and tree,
Mountain, and stream, and mineral, the birds
Which skim the liquid air, or from the brake
Pour their sweet voices, herds, and bleating flocks,
Insects on wing, or on the lowly ground.
With him the nimble grashopper pursue,
And chace the gaudy butterfly; or strive
To catch the variegated bow which plants
Its base on earth, now near, but soon removed
To distant hills; or bid him mark the sun
Refulgent shining; or the clouds diverse;
At eve, the silver moon, crescent, or full;
And every star whose radiance decks the sky.

Thus shalt thou see with pleasure on his cheek
Health's genial hue, his limbs proportion'd just,
And beauteous, as of yore the little loves
In Paphos, and Idalia, or as still
Warm from Albano's magic touch they breathe;

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Sportive as Zephyr, agile as the son
Of Maia, when his infant hand deceived
Apollo's piercing sight, and stole his lyre.

Thus reason's structure shalt thou help to form,
Laying the sure foundation, and avoid
Their error, who the memory haply load
With numerous words, and think their child endow'd
With parts prodigious, should he get by rote
Sonorous trifles, useless, and to him
Incomprehensible; debarr'd meanwhile
From action, which invigorates the frame,
And every curious sense directs to things,
Momentous, and substantial, understood
At once, or by spontaneous efforts stamp'd
On the sensorium, ne'er to be erased.

Reject their error. Nor should strength of nerve
To thy ill-fortuned offspring be denied,
Should e'en his limbs more tardily perform
Their office, and distortedly relax'd,
Trembling sustain their burthen; heed the voice
Of prejudice, or foolish tenderness,

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Which, nature's power unknown, would recommend
Forbearance, and each slight exertion dread.
Rather endeavour by repeated use
To brace the fibres; exercise can string
The slacken'd muscles, which their native tone
Shall reassume, and conquer by degrees
Hated deformity. Nor, should a cause
Obscure, and singular, as such may be,
Withhold him from the assiduous playfulness
Which health and nature love; indulge the inert
And heavy disposition; chide, invite,
Force him to move; lest sullen apathy,
And stupor, the phlegmatic habit's curse,
To their devoted victim cling thro life.

Without design, the lawns, and verdant fields,
We introduced not; mid the rural haunts
Was placed the tender nurseling; and from thence
If possible, for many a rolling year
Let nothing tempt thee with thy charge to seek
The baneful town. The country boasts alone
Untainted gales; the joys, and frolic sports
Here revel; temperance here awhile defies

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Encroaching luxury, and beneath it's shades
Primeval, lingers innocence of soul,
And cherub-wing'd simplicity. Here dwells
The unvitiated muse, and thro the glade,
By Alphin's willow'd margin, or beneath
His lofty elms, or mid his apple groves
Thick blossoming, tunes the elegiac strain,
Or meditates, as now, the instructive lay:
Escaped from slavery, from the din of fools,
From envy, and deceit, the treacherous crew,
Who worse than fever or the pestilence
Infect the city's mansions; here intent
To meet Hygeia, and with her invert
The garden mould, copartner of her toil,
Or raise the drooping flower, or from the tree
Prune its luxuriant branches; or ascend
With her the swelling hill, or urge the steed
Across the neighbouring down, or fledge the hook,
And tempt the unwary native of the stream.
Oh! thou propitious power! tho long exiled,
The muse hath met thee here! Whence easier spring
The ideas from their secret source, around
Fancy once more her fairy visions spreads,

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Light is the destined task, melodious airs
Inspire the bowers, and softer numbers breathe.

If Sickness enter not the rural dells,
Or vanquish'd by the purer atmosphere
Give place to redient health; consider well
What desperate ills thy children may elude
Here educated, in whose veins yet flows
Unsullied ichor, by the steams which rise,
Mortal, and gross, in the throng'd city's bounds
Unchanged. Nor regulate with anxious zeal
Their pastimes and excursions, let them bend,
As tutor'd from within, each pliant limb,
Each mode of varied exercise essay,
Enjoy their animation, and the sting
Of innate sprightliness. Nor let them shun,
Accustomed thus, the summer's noonday heat,
Or winter's freezing sky. The inhabitants
Of every region are by nature apt
Its warmth, or cold to bear, its shifting winds,
And quick vicissitudes: in frigid climes
Still more alert, and stimulated more
To necessary action. Oh! forewarn'd,

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Thy children in the stifling dome, howe'er
Grateful to thee, include not; and misled
By phantoms of imaginary harm,
Superfluous vestments, tho defensive deem'd,
Wrap not around them. So their vital powers
To danger unobnoxious, shall repell
All immature assaults; their nerves robust
Escape the morbid tenderness of thine,
Source of unnumber'd ailments; whence the mind
Itself at length unhinged, is timid, weak,
Irresolute, and to sensations doom'd,
Which tho they must exist, can scarce be borne.

Of polisht idleness which shrinks from toil,
And cautious trembles at the external blast,
This is the sad result. While all the tribes
Uncultivated, whether in the wilds
Canadian, or Brazilian, on the steep
Of Caucasus, in Africa, or Ind,
In the Malayan Isles, or those late seen
By him, illustrious chief whose timeless fate
Britannia mourns, and shall forever mourn,
Whate'er erroneous customs they possess,

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Howe'er productive of peculiar ills,
From this at least are free, this languor wan,
These nervous horrors which o'erwhelm the soul:
But from activity, from open skies,
And the lustration of pellucid streams,
Unmoved, support each accident of life,
Cold, hunger, thirst, and pain; nay dauntless meet,
And cheerfully resign'd, the stroke of death.

Thus too of old upon Eurotas' banks,
Or in the martial field near Tiber's waves,
From hardy childhood, Lacedæmon saw,
And Rome majestic, those intrepid bands,
Which taught the sons of haughty Greece to stoop,
Or subjected the world. To labour train'd
From early years, thus, undebauch'd by courts,
And softening indolence, in glory's page
Enroll'd, and with her laurels deck'd, have shone
Princes, and heirs of empire. Thus, advanced
From Persia's borders, unrelax'd, and brave,
Cyrus, whom Babylonia's walls in vain
Resisted, and the myriads which obey'd
Lydia's enervate monarch, while his crown

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He slavishly survived, and baser still
Survived his liberty. Thus, mid the rocks
Of Bearn, as lived the youthful peasant race,
From them unknown, but by his royal mien,
With feet unsandall'd, and uncover'd head,
Henry, the future pride of France, was raised
By kind maternal virtue. Hence he quell'd
Iberia's modern Geryon; hence, the league
That factious hydra gored with many a wound,
And finally subdued: hence, graced his throne;
And peace and plenty thro his realms diffused.

Let then the sturdy boy unlimited
Follow the bent of nature; nor too soon
Enslave thy daughter; let her limbs possess
Their utmost freedom to the extremest verge
Which custom will permit. The lengthen'd walk,
The more delightful ride, the mazy dance
Whose rapid evolutions ever please,
These, fashion, rigid decency allow,
Whate'er her age: and if each day pursued
In regular succession, will create
That mode of happy texture, which attracts

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The lover's eye desiring; where the blood
Speaks in the mantling cheek, but unsuffused
With coarse and vulgar crimson; where the frame
Is healthy, not robust, and elegant,
Not delicately fragile. Purer minds,
And gentler manners fancy here beholds,
By peevishness untinctured, undisturb'd
By malice and suspicion; nor perchance
Views with illuded eye. For much the soul
Depends on her companion. Exercise
Too far impell'd, abnormous, and for years
Continued, renders dense the nervous tide,
Or to the seat of thought at length imparts
Ideot rigidity. The effects of age
Intemperate toil can prematurely bring
On the worn frame, and sad untimely death.
While idleness relaxing every nerve
The mobile fluid is deranged by strokes
Of slightest force, nor life is worth the name.

What then do we advise? At first intent
On the corporeal organs, nature strives
To unfold, to strengthen them; and calls in aid

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Their own endeavours, restless, and untamed.
In her more simple state, by keen desire
Of food the loco-motive powers are roused;
The savage else inactively reclines
In his low shed, or underneath the palm,
Or spreading cedar, if not urged to war,
And its impetuous deeds, by hot revenge;
Superiour swiftness and superiour strength
His highest excellence, and only boast,
The soul neglected, and to him unknown
Its finer feelings, and extatic joys.

But in those climes where polity hath smooth'd
Our innate roughness, where humanely taught,
By wholesome laws conjoin'd, by the intercourse
Of liberal manners, and the incircling chain
Of arts and commerce, there the faculties
Of nobler birth are prized; the general-weal
Defends each individual, who less heeds,
Or values strength, except as far as health
Asks his attention; nor the body sole,
But mind, while gather the successive years,
Parental notice claims. When this expands,

145

Controul too fervid action, regulate
Its wilder efforts. Social life requires
The head considerate, and the labouring hand,
Business and speculation, study deep,
And enterprise which laughs at danger's frown,
Tost on the stormy billows, or engaged
In fighting fields. Whate'er his lot, adapt
Thy child to vigorous deeds, or strenuous thought.
Let exercise and books with mutual sway
Divide his time well-govern'd. Who alone
Pursues the hare, the fox, and bounding stag,
Or pores unceasing on the mouldy page,
Equal contempt and blame deserves. Nor fail
If totally their charms engross the soul,
Acute philosophy, or e'en the muse
With all her softer beauties, to contract
The span of life, to fill that span minute
With languor, discontent, disease, and pain.

Ere We conclude, this added verse receive,
From Greece derived; for as of late immerst
In rapturous thought, memory its chiefs pourtray'd
Its sages, patriots, bards, Apollo's self

146

Appear'd, or in my day-dream seem'd to appear.
With him the car I press'd, which swiftly flew
O'er continents, and seas; not swifter rush'd
The trident-bearing God to Simois' plains,
When under his immortal feet the woods,
And thro their vast extent, the mountains shook.
We gain'd Bœotia, where arose the cliffs
Of Helicon, the impurpled lawn I trod,
And to its top beyond my feeble ken,
Ascended my conductor, where he join'd
The expectant choir, whose harmony methought
Far distant struck my ear. But on a bank
With lotus and with hyacinth o'erspread
Reclined the Ascræan poet, him I knew,
For by his side was placed the verdant branch
Of scepter'd laurel, which the muses erst
With their own hands bestow'd, and bade him sing
Their high descent, and all the ethereal race.
His sheep were scatter'd round, and many swains,
And many virgins with attentive ear
Imbibed his flowing numbers, with the throng
I mingled, and regretting that so late
My footsteps had arrived, for now his strains

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Were well-nigh finish'd, and the sun declined
Toward ocean's bed, with deep respectful awe
Heard his last notes, while thus the master sung.

“His anger ceased; for on the rocks which bound
The solid earth, with adamantine chains
Braced firm, Prometheus groan'd, while on his prey
The screaming eagle darted from above.
And Epimetheus too of vacant soul
Had as a bride received the treacherous maid
Vulcan's alluring work, with graces fraught
Celestial, but diffusing evils dire.
When now the sovereign Father bade convene
The subject powers; soft pity fill'd his breast
For new-created man; on golden thrones,
They sat in order due; he thus address'd
The assembled Deities. Ye Sons of Heaven
Who on Olympus dwell, or ocean's waves
Inform, or o'er the streams preside, or haunt
The woods, and forests! with avengement just
The traitor is exiled, who first presumed
Our living fire to steal, who expiates now
His guilt, and stretch'd upon the Scythian crags

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Horrific, lies exposed to piercing winds,
Fierce-driving-rain, and snow, or beating hail,
Which with unmitigable violence
Assault his desolate abode. Nor fails
Our ravenous bird at early morn to seek
His nightly-growing feast. Such punishment
From us he merited; nor have we spared
His favour'd mortals, with Pandora's gifts
Enchanted, by her blandishments subdued.
But them we now with kinder eye behold,
Ill-form'd to last, and verging to decay
Hourly; no doubt with skill and care composed,
Worthy their author, and with heaven's own flame
Instinct, from our ethereal dome procured
By fraudful stratagem; yet weak to bear
The changeful elements, diseases fell,
And accidental ills, a numerous train;
Too exquisitely wrought, and destined soon
Again to mingle with their kindred clay,
Unless thelr fate some means yet unreveal'd
Awhile protract; toward them my wrath relents,
Not of themselves, from their own previous wills
Originated, and to transient life

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From dust upraised. To you the means I leave
Immortal powers. Who wishes to preserve
The race terrestrial, hapless, and forlorn,
From speedy dissolution, may explain
Free, and unblamed the dictates of his heart.

“He spoke. Then Pallas with attentive eye,
Smiling, beheld the Deities around,
Or pondering silent, or consulting deep.
Smiling she sat; but graceful from her throne
At length arose, and thro the effulgent hall,
Proceeding o'er the jasper pavement, sought
The door high-arch'd, whose valves of solid gold
Spontaneous open'd; ere again they closed,
The blue-eyed maid return'd, and by the hand
Led, in the prime of youth, and blooming charms,
A Nymph of heavenly mien, and as it seem'd
A sister Goddess. On her cheeks was spread
The glowing hue of Hebe; waving hung
And loose her raven locks, but just confined;
Her robe succinct a golden clasp upheld
Baring the knee: Not languishingly soft
Like Venus in her gait, nor rivalling

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Majestic Juno; but in all her limbs
Dwelt symmetry divine, activity,
And sparkling ardour; while her hand sustain'd
A spear, too light for battles dire, in which
Mars wields his massy javelin, but to feats
Of mimic war adapted, or to wage
The sylvan conflict. To the feet of Jove
Led on, the assembled powers at once survey'd
Her virgin form with wonder and desire,
As from her breath perfumes, and from her hair
Dropp'd fragrant roses. Then Minerva paused,
And thus began. O Father! see, with thine
How all my thoughts accord. The means I bring
Thy clement aim to perfect; from their fate
Suddenly threatening hapless man to save,
And bless with length of days: by this my work,
This beauteous nymph, whom I with plastic hand
In emulation of Vulcanian skill,
Or Promethean, fashion'd; not of earth,
Or fire, like their productions, but of pure
And elemental æther; nor by thee
Forbidden, or with anger now survey'd.
Her name Gymnasia, and in future times,

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And regions yet by mortal feet untrod,
Health-giving exercise. For she the race
Of men shall urge to exertion and to toil,
Snatch from Pandora's arms the tender babe,
String his young nerves, and thro the eventful scenes
Of chequer'd life support him, scattering wide
The mists of torpid indolence, the worst
Of all the plagues, which in the fatal box
Were stored, whose sweetness poisons, and the frame
Weak of itself, to double weakness dooms.

“She said. The Power superior, with a smile
Approved her wisdom, with a smile that cheer'd
Heaven, earth, and seas; viewing the lovely nymph
Moulded by her, and by her skill adorn'd,
The stedfast friend, and guardian of mankind.

“They thro the yielding air with speedy flight
Descended, hasting to the nether world;
With acclamations loud Olympus rang.”

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

153

BOOK VI.

154

ARGUMENT.

Address to Dr. Milman.—The Author declines treating particularly of the diseases of children.—The treatment of diseases in general cannot be taught to the vulgar; nor could those of children be contained in a work like this; much less could the skill and judgment be imparted necessary for the administration of remedies.—False notion, because children cannot describe their feelings, that the seats and causes of their diseases are therefore unknown.—Diseases of children not so simple as some have imagined.—The causes also are many and various.—Necessity of applying for speedy assistance. —This, even should it be unsuccessful, will hinder the remorse which might follow a different conduct.—The effects of this remorse exemplified in an Episode.—Inoculation. —Rise and progress of the Smallpox.—Introduction of Inoculation into Europe by Lady Mary Wortley Montague. —This duty inculcated.—Conclusion.

155

To thee, whom laudable Ambition fires,
Surmounting every obstacle, to climb
The height of science, rivalling the fame
Of Arbuthnot, or Garth, or learned Mead:
With whom in life's gay morn my heart inwove
A bond of union, which no power but death
Can e'er untwine: whose warm, whose liberal voice
Hath oft approved my strains, in this perchance
Too partial, yet humane, and in the song
Contemplating the friend: This verse to thee,
Milman! as worthier of thy classic ear,
I now devote; nor would I on thy time
Sacred to public good, or studious thought,
Intrude the futile levities of wit,
Or useless elegance, howe'er refined.

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With prudence nursed, and by its precepts formed,
Thy child, O Parent! haply will ascend
Unhurt to manhood. Yet, events there are,
Which not my lays can teach the means to shun,
Nor thy assiduous caution can elude.
For he is mortal, and to mortal ills
Prone from his birth. Each violent disease
The human race invading, may be his:
And some, confined, exert their baleful force
On infancy, and childhood. What, thy care,
What, rural scenes, what the pure lymph and food
Aptly supplied; what his own active powers
Indulged, the frigid bath, and cleanliness,
With regulation due of heat and cold,
Can frustrate or prevent, and much they may,
He will avoid. At least the shafts of death
Shall oft be blunted, nature's vigorous arm
Her shield protending, while her faithful aid
Joins with thy ardent wishes. Is thy mind,
Anxious, and fond, with this unsatisfied?
And dost thou ask the latent plagues to view
Skulking in ambush? know their different signs?
Learn their prognostics, fatal or secure?

157

And the resources which progressive time
Hath found, and liberal practice can select?

What wilt thou gain, so taught? Augmented fears,
Doubled anxiety. In every look
If slightly changed, in every wanton cry,
Or sudden start, thy love solicitous
The seeds of dire disaster will perceive,
And haste with needless remedies to oppose
A fancied mischief, till thy infant feels
Perhaps thus often treated, real pain.
Say, that disease were fixt, and that our page
Lay full before thee fraught with justest rules;
Could'st thou with timid mind, and throbbing heart,
Presume to apply them? Would'st thou not, immerst
In hesitation, all attempts forego?
If not, the tone, and bias of thy soul
Mistaking, we for such as thee ne'er strung
The lyre humane, nor e'er the lyre will string.

Yet, much the welfare of thy child we prize;
And doubtless, even from his natal hour
Beginning, could in graphic order paint

158

Every distemper, each appropriate name
Disclose, their diverse symptoms and their cure.
And when the instructive plan we first essay'd,
Imagination's inconsiderate eye
Colleagued with youth, this finish'd work beheld.
But judgment, render'd stronger by the lapse
Of twice seven years, rejects the green design.
A theme inelegant, for verse unfit,
Tedious, and long, and barren, and to thee
Of little profit, nay with danger stored.

A task like this, the muse without regret
Leaves to some Medicaster, who the quill,
Dextrously wielding, aims at vulgar praise.
We know the failure of generic marks
Employ'd on species; near the bed of pain
We know what nice distinction is required,
What accurate serenity of thought,
What sedulous attention, to collect
Each circumstance minute; and from the traits
Commingled and fictitious, to detach
What suits peculiar natures, and the turns
Of endless and immense varieties.

159

Would then the mother, would the wary nurse,
If such there be, from so disturbed a fount,
To them disturbed, it's muddy waters draw?
And sport with human life? Not thus reproach'd
Shall flow my numbers, which the hand of rash
Or doating ignorance shall ne'er supply
With poison. Never will I stoop to win
The multitude's applause by deeds or words
Which candour must despise. Nor e'en in song
Reflections cast on others, that on me
May light the praise of fools; tho plausible
Each note appeared, and for the common good
Intended solely: much less with abuse
Degrade the very art I once profess'd.
For conscious of the toil it's practice claims,
The inquietude, the watchful nights, the days
To thought intense devote, when jovial mirth
Holds its nocturnal orgies, and the voice
Of empty vanity is heard at noon,
Tho far beneath the illustrious great, I knew
What form'd their sterling worth, and placed them high
Above the selfish, mean empiric race.

160

Such were the sages of the Asclepian line;
Thus, from the Coan, to the incipient age
Of Boerhaave, lived the prime of every school;
Thus Sydenham, over every school supreme;
Such Huxham lately ran his course of fame;
While Glass with evening brightness still adorns
The western sky, and proves not yet extinct
The true, the genuine Hippocratic beams.
Patient to observe, they, unremitting, scann'd
The book of nature, while their souls enlarged
Took in, and added to their proper store
All past experience, methodized, and clear.
How vain their labour! if a tract compiled
By some assuming, specious shallow scribe,
Could teach the inferior orders of mankind
With strict discernment thro the tangled maze
Of its progressive symptoms, to conduct
Each dangerous malady, its cause unveil,
And each adapted remedy prepare;
Could these my strains embrace the various ails
Infesting childhood, to thine eyes display
The various antidotes, and give that sound
Unerring judgment, which alone acquired

161

By use and contemplation, can insure
The proper time of trial, can advise
With confidence, and justify the deed.

Yet, what we may, what nor the muse forbids,
Nor our own sense condemns, is freely thine.

If from the mother's bosom we remove
Those false opinions which her gentle soul
Unwittingly possess; if we describe
The limits of her care, and when to invoke
Superior wisdom's aid; if on her mind
Some duties we impress, and tyrant fear,
And more tyrannic superstition drive
Far from her dwelling; not in vain we write:
And many a fell disease o'ercome, her sons,
Her daughters shall hereafter bless the day
Which brought these well-meant numbers to her ear.

Because the child, with reason unendow'd
And power of speech, by words to express his grief
Nature permits not; some believe the source
Of anguish and affliction is conceal'd

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From every eye, and deem assistance vain.
Or to the nurse, or vaunting midwife trust,
Who cases manifold and similar
Have oft beheld, and never fail'd to cure:
For each her nostrum boasts; if harmless this,
And trifling, it were well, did not the wing
Of time speed fast the irrevocable hour
Of wish'd redress. But frequently the drug
They praise, the cordial drops are fraught with death,
Hurrying convulsions on of direst kind;
Or with narcotic venom strong imbued,
Plunging their patient in eternal sleep.

Yet, nature, in thy child, tho not in words,
Speaks plain to those who in her language vers'd
Justly interpret. Are the different tones
Of woe, unfaithful sounds? Can he, whose sight
Hath traced the various muscles in their course,
When irritated in the different limbs,
Retracted, or extended, or supine,
Fix no conclusions on the seat of pain?
Is it of no avail to mark the breath,
How drawn? the face? the motions of the eye?

163

The salient pulse? the eruptions on the skin?
The skin itself, constricted, or relax'd?
The mode of sleep? of watching? heat? and thirst?
From which, and numerous traits beside, arranged,
Combined, abstracted, and maturely weigh'd,
Judgment its practice forms? Are characters
Like these, which ask the nice-decyphering soul,
Intelligible to the beldames old,
Who, wrapt in darkness, utter prophesies
And lying oracles, which cheat the ear,
Or follow'd, to destruction lead the way?
Oh! may good angels, kindling in thy breast
The lamp of reason, guard thee from their snares!
Blind guides, assiduous to deceive the blind.

Truths partially adopted oft admit
Ingressive error. Children are presumed,
As fresh from nature's hand, with maladies
Of simpler kind to labour, than the frame
Of grosser age. Say, this belief were true?
A general rule? If simpler than they are
Hence treated, still we cannot but decry
The unsound opinion which for all alike

164

One favourite mode of practice recommends.
If just the notion, Æsculapius' Son
Might as a vain intruder be dismiss'd,
The mother could supply his place unblamed.
But, nor with idle terrors do we seek
To wound affection, from experience taught
We know what medicines, different in effect,
And opposite, the varying symptoms claim.
Antiphlogistics which the vital heat
Increased, depress; and Cardiacs which excite;
And Opiate Sedatives, in vulgar hands
Pernicious as the deadly nightshade's juice,
And Drastics, which consummate skill alone,
And wise discretion, when the moment calls,
Should dare advise. The uncomprehensive mind,
Or prejudiced, or wishing to repose
In inactivity, is likewise prone
To simplify the causes, and accuse
That which perhaps exists not, but which reigns
As it conjectures, eminent o'er all.

The wild delusions which this source affords,
With silent scorn or pity hath the muse

165

Often attested. The luxuriant glands,
In infants stiled of disproportion'd size,
And the too copious fluids they secern,
Or tough and viscid, some alone condemn.
As if these glands by nature were ordain'd
So large without design, or worse, to prove
The cisterns of disease. Acidity
Some only blame; and some, the sting severe
Of acrimonious humours. These accuse
The noisome worm, however hid from sight.
Those, as exciting fever, reprobate
Nought but the growing teeth. Repletion, some.
While others dreadful fits survey within,
Or e'en pretend to trace them in the smile
Of downy sleep. Nor women solely err.
The pedant has his whims; and he, the light
Fantastic form, who superficial skims
The froth of science, yet would fain appear
Most intimate in its profoundest depths,
Nor a phenomenon beholds, to which,
Like the first man, intuitively wise,
He cannot give a name. What strange conceits
Have not philosophers embraced, intent

166

The principles of Galen to defend!
Or to deduce from chymic elements
Recondite causes! Or the line apply
And mathematie rule, to buildings raised
On mere imaginary ground! Or search
The moon, and aspects of the distant stars!
While some, from animated beings, thick
Diffused thro space, invisibly minute,
Have every ill derived, tormenting man.

Let all who will, enjoy their pleasing dreams,
So human life be safe; and theory
Held in firm durance, never guide the pen
When sickness needs assistance. But, of this
Be sure, O parent! to thy children flow
From numerous causes, which would tire thy ear,
And pass the stated limits of our verse,
Their diverse ails; tho not perhaps like us
Subject to putrid ferments, yet from them
Not wholly free, nor from the power of cold,
Of sultry heat, of humid air, and dry,
And fell contagion, whose resistless aim
If placed within its reach, no wight can shun

167

Of mortal mould, nor e'er escape the bane,
Unless around her favourites nature cast
Impenetrable mail, no work of art.

Shall then by fear impeded, none attempt
To rescue childhood from distress and pain,
But those, by long and toilsome study taught,
To investigate the cause, the symptoms scan,
And judge what they portend? The impartial heart
Unmoved by sordid lucre, hy the goad
Of mean self-interest, wishes to the race
Of infant innocence, no worse a fate.
But not to combat what the muses nine,
And e'en the Delian God with all his power,
Could never vanquish; and because the step
Of Pæon's votary is not always near;
Attend our strains. When the weak head declines,
And the eye droops; when now the inconstant cheek
Is red, now pale; when fretful, restless, hot;
The stomach and intestines discomposed,
And in their office changed; when the young springs
Of life more quick or tardy feem to move
Than nature wills; we would not to thy child

168

Forbid thee, tho we dare not recommend,
Nor can approve the deed, unless by fate
Widely sequester'd from the experienced eye,
Reason's sole plea; to give a portion due
Of the Indian root; or taught the quantity
With nice exactness, which his age may claim,
Some useful Antimonial; or, that mild,
Insipid, light, absorbent, by it's name
Magnesia, better known, or join'd with this
More strengthening Rhéum, from Siberian wilds,
Or Turkey's regions brought. Here ends thy care:
For now the transient obstacles o'ercome,
Alacrity returns; or still he pines,
Still his distemper gains increasing force.
And if the cause should thus be deeply fix'd,
Thy efforts would be vain, perhaps unsafe,
At least engend'ring danger by delay,
And danger often marches close by death.

Here let thy love, thy conscience take the alarm;
Love for thy child, and terror at the guilt
Or dire infanticide. Perhaps the worst
Of ills impends; convulsion lurks unseen;

169

Fever already riots in his veins;
Or suffocation threatens to destroy.
Trust not thyself; trust not the babbling hag;
Let fondness all alive, and light'ning round,
Detect her, as Ithuriel's spear the toad,
Couch'd at the ear of Eve, with poison fill'd.

Yet shun despondence, cherish warmest hope,
Seize fleet occasion ere it passes by,
And call the ingenious Leach, his happy skill
Shall to its pristine health thy babe restore,
If all-o'erruling Providence permit.
If not, to the indefatigable mind
Tho learning all its mysteries hath reveal'd,
Tho judgment clear, and long experience join
Their potent aid, a Warren will be foil'd,
A Heberden, or Baker, cannot save.
But thou from every taint of guilt or blame
Art free; thy duty is perform'd; tho poor
That solace is, which counsels, be resign'd,
Fetter the strong sensations, rapid-wing'd;
And glean content from rectitude of thought.
Who thus can lose the darling of the eye?

170

The little lively cherub, who e'en now
Begins his voice to modulate, and lisp
The half-form'd tale? Ah! wherefore was he given?
So soon resumed, and snatch'd from cheerful day?
That, Heaven best knows. Yet, if thou wilt, indulge
Thy just emotions, give them ample scope;
Recall each mimic gesture, every sound,
Each look, when pleased, or wayward in his mood,
He struck with inexpressive tenderness
The soul parental. With thy struggling heart
The muse shall sympathise, shall add to thine
Congenial notes sincere. But time shall heal
The rankling wound, and soften by degrees,
Nay, quite o'ercome reflection's sharpest pangs:
Till memory tracing to the fount of grief
Views it at length unruffled, and beholds
Thro the calm lymph, woe's once detested form,
Affectionately pensive, yet serene.

The human soul with fortitude can bear,
Or with elastic energy expell,
Or slowly certain, vanquish every ill,
But dread remorse. The self-accused descend

171

Low in the scale, and abject, or they pine
Afflicted, or amid the blaze of noon
Perceive no change in the dark midnight gloom
Which reigns within; despair stands scouling by,
And sullen madness crouches for his prey.

Oh! may thy mind, whatever doom'd to feel,
Whate'er of anguish, pain, or penury,
Wounds of ingratitude, or slighted love,
This worse than all, than famine, fire, or steel,
This horrid fiend avoiding, never shrink
Beneath his weight, by conscious thought condemn'd.
Nor, may Evadne's melancholy fate
Be ever thine. What beauties could she boast!
How fair, in virgin innocence! Her charms
Pierced deep, for unaffected was the maid,
And justest education had improved,
Not tortured nature. Melody had chose
Her voice for its loved vehicle of sound.
Tho mute, she spake, her eye had magic fire.
Her shape, her gesture, every action beam'd
Expressive elegance. Could the young heart
Of Polydore resist her wondrous power?

172

He strove not to resist, he heard, he saw.
And all his melting soul was her's alone.
Nor did she view the enamour'd swain, or hear
Scornful the tender vows he breathed; for his
Was the smooth open front of candid truth,
The modest cheek, the soft persuasive glance
Of true affection, and the sigh sincere.
The lawns, the meads beheld them, and the groves
Of quivering alder, and the willows green
Skirting the mazy brook, nor e'er beheld
Happier and purer mortals; nor e'er caught
Amid their shades, or on their mossy banks,
Notes more impassion'd from the Doric muse,
Than Polydore to his Evadne sung.

Thus fixt immutably, thus rivetted
By strong attraction, not a father's frown,
For his imagination had pourtray'd
Evadne in the higher rank of pride,
Of wealth, and pageantry; not five long years
Of absence could from either's heart erase
The other's image. Yet again they met,
Auspicious was the meeting; for the soul

173

Of age severe, now moved, resolved to bless
The constant youth, and to his arms resign
The beauteous maid. He bless'd the constant youth;
And to his arms the beauteous maid resign'd.
Fair shone the morn of their espousals, fair
The coming morn, and promised to the eye
Of raptured love, a train of prosperous days.

Oh happiness! how exquisite!—how brief!
Affliction is the lot of man below:
And often, misery, when the soul of joy
Flushes with transport, breathes a sudden air
Of chilling frost, the genial warmth destroys,
And florid bloom. One eve Evadne sat
Alone, in swift succession to her view
Rose many a fairy prospect, but the light
Which gilded them was Polydore's, the sun
Was he, illuming, animating all
The forms of her creation. Even then
She felt his warm embrace, and press'd she thought
His glowing cheek to her's; for him prepared,
The table smiled; for him bright-beaming shone
The rosy wine; the foot-steps of his steed

174

She heard in every gale. But him, alas!
The living Polydore she never saw.
That steed had proved unfaithful to his trust,
With mad'ning swiftness toward the gate he flew,
While far behind his breathless master lay.

The feelings of Evadne to describe
Weak is the muse, and nerveless are her strains.
What can support her? Where exists the power
Which can detain her from the grave that holds
Her lord in death? What, but the babe which smiles
Unconscious of his loss, as on her breast,
Her nurturing breast, he hangs? For him she lives.
For him sustains the load of grief, and strives
To tear the rooted anguish from her mind.
He is the charm which reconciles her thoughts
To the loath'd world? for Polydore in him
She sees, in the dear pledge of amity:
Stamp'd with his image, with his vital blood
Inform'd, and breathing sweet his balmy breath.

Hath not misfortune spent her deadly shafts?
Ill-starr'd Evadne! In thy child appear

175

The symptoms of disease, and onward hastes
Impetuous fever. To a form like thine,
A temper blameless, with emotions pure,
Humane, and amiable, ah! why did heaven
Refuse staid judgment, firmness to resist
Error importunate, and strength to shun
Credulity, which hears the dotard's tale,
And thinks it truth! Who taught thy Grandam hoar
The secrets of an art, to which the mind
Of vigorous energy, and years of toil,
Are scarcely equal? By what Demon urged
Malicious, with what evil spirit fill'd
Of self-conceit and folly, dares she hope
To accomplish, what requires the searching eye
Of genius, and the labour'd skill of deep
And accurate attention? On thy child
She looks, then proves her wisdom. First, the teeth
Are blamed, and charms are tried, and nostrums given.
Next, fits internal, and her poisonous drugs
She brews like Circe. Then the noxious worm;
And anthelmintics various she procures,
And oft repeats the drench. Each different cause
She e'er has heard suggested, is accused,

176

And every remedy she ever knew,
Administer'd; while still, the last, her voice
Solemnly slow, declares will banish pain,
And with miraculous and sudden force
Restore the suffering babe; who lies meantime
Opprest with double woe, by his disease,
And that pernicious treatment, which from plain
And simple, has converted it at length
To mortal violence. Now, nature yields
Reluctantly o'ercome. Evadne sees
The victom of presumptuous ignorance;
Conviction flashes on her mind; she calls
For aid, too late. He dies; and with him dies
Her Polydore again. She raves, she tears
Her flowing locks. Yet, passionate excess
May waste itself, and peace once more return.
It might return, as when she felt the pangs
Of absent love, as when her heart was torn,
Losing its dearer portion. But the sting
Of sharp reflection, by herself impell'd,
What hand shall e'er extract? Her delicate,
And feeling mind, imagination struck,
Shrinks from existence; while by day, by night,

177

These sounds pervade her ear, “Thy child is slain,
And thou wert an accomplice.” Horrid sounds!
Inviting on his cloud, the dreary shape
Of melancholy madness. Oh! what notes,
What different notes, utters Evadne now,
Enfrenzied, and forlorn, from those which erst
Amid their shades, or on their mossy banks,
The groves responsive heard, the joyous groves
Of quivering alder, and the willows green
Skirting the mazy brook, those Doric notes,
Which Polydore to his Evadne sung.

Turn we from scenes like these, which o'er the soul
Of weeping sympathy diffuse a gloom,
Yet, not unchasten'd by the milder ray
Of self-acquitting thought, and firm intent
To shun the latent rocks of deep distress,
By pious caution guided; from our theme
Not thus abstracted, its preceptive notes
Yet unrelinquishing, and sorrows mists
Dispell'd, which o'er the breast of innocence
Flit like a cloud across the summer sky;
To happier mansions, objects of delight,

178

And joyful prospects, turn! to where thy child
Hath, by inoculation, overcome
The plague Variolous! As Hercules
The spotted snakes defeating, transport flush'd
Alcmena's glowing cheek, so over thine
I see the kindled radiance. Whether born
In Ethiopic wilds, or mid the sands
Of parch'd Arabia, or where spread the shores
Girding the Caspian; from his natal place,
Pursuing Mahomet's wide-wasting arms,
The monster rush'd on Europe, pale dismay,
Horror, and death rapacious in his train.
For many a century, without controul,
When raged his fury, by pernicious skies
Aroused, or propagated far and wide
By fell contagion, he destroy'd mankind.
The cities groan'd; the matron o'er her babe
In unavailing trance of anguish hung.
The lover offer'd up his fruitless vows,
And wearied heaven importunately fond,
To save the beauty which his soul adored.
The babe, the mother's self, became his prey;
The youth, and virgin, sunk into the tomb.

179

If life were granted, beauty was effaced;
Each decent feature, tumid, and enlarged,
Roughen'd, or dented with unseemly scars.

Medicine was whelm'd with shame; the Roman page
Was silent, nor the Grecian could afford
An antidote for evils Grecia's sons
Had ne'er imagined. Rhazes wrote in vain;
And even Sydenham's efforts had their bounds.
For the cold lymph by prejudice was shunn'd;
And Sydenham, tho he oft by freer air
Tamed the devouring heat, and shook the throne
Of learned ignorance, declaring war
Against its regimen, adverse to life,
And compounds teeming with destructive fire,
Alexipharmic poisons; could not change
The rank malignant nature of the pest:
Which still, when favouring constitutions reign'd
And in peculiar habits, all his art
Baffled, invincible; his art, beyond
All mortals else, and only not divine.

180

The triumph was reserved for female hands;
Thine was the deed, accomplish'd Montague!
What physic ne'er conjectured, what described
By Pylarini, by Timoni sketch'd,
Seem'd to philosophy an idle tale,
Or curious only; She, by patriot love
Inspired, and England rising to her view,
Proved as a truth, and proved it on her son.
A manly mind where reason dwelt supreme
Was her's, the little terrors of her sex
Despising, by maternal fondness sway'd,
Yet bold, where confidence had stable grounds.
How far superior to the turbann'd race
With whom she sojourn'd, scrupulous, and weak!

Yet, this is she, whom Pope's illiberal verse
Hath dared to censure with malicious spleen,
And meanly-coward soul. Redoubted Bard!
What hath thy satire, though it often flow
Happy, and poignant, with Horatian ease,
What hath thy moral lay, though pure, and just,
And elegant, of profit e'er produced,
Of high advantage to thy natal land,

181

Compared with her bequest? Thy numbers charm
The listening ear, and with thy polish'd stile
Taste is enamour'd; she hath been the cause
Of heart-felt joy to thousands, thousands live,
And still shall live thro her; thy song can please
None but the sons of Britain; or the few,
Of nice, and studious leisure; she unlock'd
The springs of satisfaction and delight,
And with perennial comfort bless'd the world.

Let me then urge this duty; nor to fear
Or superstition yielding, let thy child
Encounter in his native shape the fiend,
And brave his violence. For, whither, say,
To what sequester'd haunt canst thou retreat,
Where he will not pursue? How vain thy flight!
How sure thy victory, if as art direct
And wise experience, thou anticipate
His threaten'd blow! So when the Patriarch's arm
Was stretch'd to wound his son, an Angel came,
And saved the victim from impending death.

182

Gentle, and almost harmless is the bane
By skill communicated, which regards
The times and seasons, nor infects the child,
If to dentition's wonted state arrived;
For, ill the labouring frame can then endure
An added stimulus. Nor yet before
That period: lest to epilepsy prone
By the contagious vapour raised, he quit
Sudden the precincts warm of light and life.
This too the cold of winter bids us shun,
Potent the vessels to contract, increase
Their tonic force, and in the system stir
Fierce inflammation. And the summer heat;
By which all putrid ferments are sublimed,
And render'd doubly fatal. These extremes
Avoided, in the temperate months alone
Let every prudent matron be resolved
To obey the call of duty, and of love.
Unless the dread contagion, thickening round,
Impell them to neglect each guarded rule,
Yielding by force to peril's just alarm.

183

Need we, in this our Æra, when mature,
And vigorous, reason prospers, groundless fears
Oppose by arguments? the groundless fears
Of fondness, or religion? In thy mind
No terror should, or can with justice dwell,
But lest, as naturally seen, by art
Unmodified, uncheck'd, the stern disease
Should thy young charge assault. If he escape,
His lot is fortunate. Assaulted thus,
Oft, from an hundred only, many die.
From many hundreds, none, or one perchance,
Of those inoculated. Why should thine
Be the poor solitary one? If death
Follow a treatment, which can soothe the pest,
And meliorate its nature, could his life
Be granted to thy fervent prayer, when arm'd,
And with its proper rage it took the field?
This be thy source of comfort. Nor believe
That Providence is tempted by the deed.
From providence flows reason to mankind;
And reason teaches us to fly from ill,
And covet good. The invention, the success,
Is the true warrant of approving heaven.

184

Who would not rather cross a shallow frith,
When first the rising tide begins, than wait
Hemm'd in a nook, till with impetuous force
It sweep him from his station? Who refuse
By Franklin's pointed rod, to draw the stream
Of lightning on their roofs, because the cloud
Might harmless pass above? thus safe convey'd,
In unterrific silence, to the ground.

Tho rare the examples now, and scatter'd, mark
The unhappy beings, who from idle dread,
Or weak maternal love, in childhood's state
This boon received not; and who sharing yet
The hereditary feelings, want themselves
Firmness of soul the omission to supply.
Mark, where they pine in solitude, oppress'd
By anxious thought; to whom man's cheerful race
Affords no joy; the voice of music breathes
Its choral notes unheard; the stage displays
The living manners, and the assembly beams
With sprightliness and elegance, in vain.
The city, nay the village bounds they fly,
And shift from place to place, as from the pack

185

Of clamorous hounds and men, in wild affright
The trembling hare. Oh! never may thy sons,
Thy daughters, thus be cursed! in early life
By thee from all these future horrors freed!
The mirthful croud, with innocence of heart
Joining well-pleased; the gay, the social hour
Nor shunning, nor desiring, but awhile
To soften care; or fit the soul for acts,
By relaxation due, of nobler kind.
Endow'd by thee with comeliness, no trace
Of this abhorr'd distemper left behind,
And all it's wonted ravages defied.

For Montague again the verse prepare,
And bring the harmonious strain! Why thro the realms
Of Europe are not votive statues placed
Honouring their benefactress? From the straits
Of Gades, south, to where the towers ascend
Of famed Petropolis? Or, crossing wide
The Atlantic foam, why in the new-found world,
Which more to her, than its discoverer, owes,
Appears no structure sacred to her praise?
Yet, shall imagination rear the dome,

186

And fix the expressive marble. Hither come,
Ye nymphs, and swains, with flowery garlands deck'd
Your polish'd foreheads; on the shaven green
Which fronts the temple, ply your nimble feet,
The jocund dance inweaving! Hither come,
Ye fauns and dryads! Hither, glowing love,
And spotless beauty! Youth, with radiant eye,
And blooming health! While underneath the beech
Or oak, which waves it's consecrated shade,
Humanity, and wisdom, smiling view
The festive throng, mid whom the graces play.
And quitting their proud bowers, and lofty hill,
The muses utter notes divinely sweet,
Such as of yore they sung, when gratitude
Tuned to the friends and patrons of mankind
The genuine lyre, ennobled by it's theme.

END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

187

POEMS ON DIFFERENT OCCASIONS,

NOT BEFORE PUBLISHED.

189

ADDRESS TO PEACE.

1760.

O virgin fair, with olive garland crown'd
Thy polish'd forehead! Who with raptured eye
Survey'st the waving harvest; when around
From her full store the richest gifts are shed
By plenty's hand unsparing; or if choice
Thy footsteps guide to more sequester'd scenes,
Attentive to the turtle's melting note,
Wafted by echo's busy, sportive voice
Thro the green glade! O Queen of every charm
Soft vanquishing the human breast; adored
Tutoress of science, of each art refined,
Existing first by thy creative power,
By thy enlightening influence sustain'd!
Thee too the Idalian tribe, the smiling loves,
And graces, interweaving mutual bands
Of rosy twine, thee the Pierian nymphs

190

Applausive view, and hail with dulcet hymns,
Genial Inspirer; from their sight exiled,
They droop their languid heads, no more the beams
Of warm imagination fire the soul
Of their deserted votary. He adapts
His lyre in vain to smooth melodious airs,
Harsh, grating discord jars on every string.

Oh! where chaste nymph, shall I begin to praise
Thy matchless beauties? how, attractions paint
Innumerable? the quick thought shrinks back,
Nor dares attempt the complicated theme.
And yet our conscious bosoms know, and feel
The blessings sprung from thee; Albion exults
Through all her fields, joy and contentment reign,
And Agriculture holds his plough, and smiles.

Fortunate Isle! or more—Beloved of Heaven!
Surely expell'd from every other land
Beneath the ethereal cope, on dubious wing
Traversing the vast globe, here Peace restrain'd
Her weary flight, here fix'd her stedfast throne,
And stretch'd her golden sceptre, while o'er all

191

The liquid realms thy floating bulwarks ride
In triumph, big with horror and dismay,
Far off to bear the fiery war, and awe
Resisting nations. She meantime secure,
Upon thy borders all her balmy dew
Showers unwithdrawing; on a thousand hills
Feed thy large flocks, throughout a thousand vales
Resound thy lowing herds, thy rivers bear
With pain the load of commerce, and thy towns
Receive the tribute of remotest lands;
Here either India's bounteous gifts are spread,
Here the collected wealth of every clime.

Ah! how unlike to these were the dire scenes
Witness'd of old! when civil tumult urged
The rival claims of Lancaster, and York;
As sway'd by desperate chiefs, then Britons fought
Against contending Britons. Horrid sight!
Compell'd to war, tho consanguineous streams
Together mingled on the accursed ground.
Ah! how unlike, when fierce rebellion raged
In all her terrors clad! When, impious man,
Cromwell, by wily arts, religion deem'd,

192

And holy zeal, prompted the infuriate bands,
Enthusiastic, to dethrone their King,
And mocking sacred justice, lead to death
The royal victim.—Gracious Heaven! remove
Such woes, such crimes forever! Nor again
Should treason, in despite of lawful sway,
Wave her dark crest, as by the North e'erwhile
Upraised, let her not meet rebuke severe,
And swift avengement. Never may a fiend
So ugly, so detestable, be born
In British soil: but may soft placid gales
Of concord whisper thro the land; may all
The powers of harmony conspire to form
A lasting guard, a wall impregnable,
Around young Brunswick's throne, and fix his reign
On the firm basis of his people's love.

O Nymph divinely sprung! Ethereal Maid!
Hear the fond wish! Still beam thy purest ray,
Dazzling audacious faction; gently smile,
And party shall unfurl her wrinkled brow,
Catching humanity; in social bands
Connected, tell thy Britons they may dare

193

Defy the universe; much less may Gaul
Hope to resist their power, 'tis her's to sit
With envy swoln, and utter threats in vain.

Unhappy Gaul, what generous foe but heaves,
Reflecting on thy fate, the sigh humane!
Where is thy robe of triumph now, the robe
Of purple grain, which o'er thy glittering arms
Thou wont to cast! Why at thy feet reclines
That dinted shield? What means the broken spear,
And edgeless sword, beside thee placed? Why sinks
Thy downward eye, as if ashamed to view
Yon ruin'd trophy? Where is now thy pomp?
Thy glory's radiance? Where the flattering hopes
Of conquest, and invasion? Either Ind,
Torn from thy empire, owns Britannia's sway.
Where are thy crouded fleets, by the bright plumes
Of golden commerce fann'd from shore to shore?
Why scouls around thy land, where plenty smiled,
The meagre form of nerveless poverty?

Such are the fruits of dire ambition, such
The baneful gifts of War, before whose face

194

Glide pleasing phantasms, fair delusions, dreams
Of sure success, and splendid victories won.
False glitter all! Behind strides horror, pale,
And ghastly; fell despair, whose murderous hand
Seeks his own life; famine, with hollow eyes,
And body wasted to the bone; inwrapp'd
In storms, and whirlwinds, whose resistless force
O'erwhelms whole provinces, and bares the earth,
Sweeps desolation; miseries worse than death;
The cries of orphans, suffering matron's groans;
Anxieties and griefs immense; woes more
Than language can describe, or fiction frame.

These are the followers of remorseless war,
By frantic rage impell'd to thin mankind.
Such now o'er poor Germania's harrass'd soil
He drives his fervid chariot; not of yore
Louder his voice was heard on Thracia's hills
Urging his loved Edonians to the field.
Roused at the sound, in dread array, her sons
Pant for the fight; here dauntless Ferdinand
Meets the thick tempest of impetuous France.
There Austria sends her valiant legions forth,

195

Prepared for hardiest conflict; to her aid
Lured by the hopes of plunder, their bleak wilds,
And snow-clad hills deserted, onward haste
The rugged Russians; cruel, fierce, untamed,
Ruin, and brutal havock mark their way.

Who shall the savage multitude oppose?
Who nations, leagued with nations? On his brow
Sits fortitude, while prudence spreads around
Her tutelary wings, and valour goads
His ardent soul, instinct with highest thought,
Defying peril, and the front of death.
A soaring spirit, undepress'd by fate,
He bears; Immortal Frederic! Lo! when gain'd
A transient rest, he wakes the Lesbian lyre.
At every touch I hear a Master's hand
Explore the chords; as if the favouring Maids
Of Helicon, their violet-shaded fount
Had left, and danced exulting at his birth,
While blue-eyed Pallas saw, and praised the deed.
Yes, let the fickle many, as they list,
With fortune's giddy tide retract their course;
At least one Briton shall with thee, O Prince,

196

The torrent stem of black adversity,
And weave a radiant chaplet for thy brow.

For surely justice bade thee draw the sword
Against thy treacherous foes.—But if instead,
By mean ambition led astray, thy soul
Grasp'd at the hopes of conquest, the false pride
Of overthrowing kingdoms, should a Bard,
Should thy own strains self-flattering, e'er attempt
Thy crimes to palliate, may the abortive work
Perish unheeded! never shall the muse
Of genuine poesy adorn thy name;
But snatch it Infamy! and waft it on
To the dark shades, where mute oblivion reigns.
Blasted be all, who harbour thoughts like these!
Who unprovoked, let loose to tear the world
The wasteful furies, who, for deeds of blood,
Quit the mild virtues of humanity;
And to emblaze their glory, sport away
The lives of thousands. With a fix'd contempt
Tho glittering in the spoils of half the East,
Tho worshipp'd as the progeny of Jove,
I view the Æmathian tyrant. Not the tribes,

197

The prostrate millions, from Siberia north,
To distant Iran; not the imperious Turk
Vanquish'd by Stella's mountain, not the crown
Reft from the Egyptian Soldan's head, himself
Compell'd o'er Afric's torrid plains to roam
A fugitive, from me extort a word
Applausive of the Scythian Homicide.

Where justice fails, there fails the nerve of war,
The sinewy strength, which gripes, and fast retains
True glory; when the sacred flame inspires
Of freedom, when the invigorating love
Of his dear country to the mortal strife,
Impells the Hero's courage-breathing soul,
His fame, not rancorous envy's tainted tongue
Can with malignant poison dare imbue;
But her black snakes drop their convulsive folds,
Hissing involuntary praise. To him
Should victory present the splendid palm,
Meed of his brave emprize, and having borne
Safe thro the terrors of the ensanguined plain,
Lapp'd in her blooming mantle, lead him back
To realms, his toil, his virtue hath preserved;

198

For him, with liveliest admiration join'd,
Shall gratitude effuse the enchanting voice
Of heart-felt, rapturous joy; him meet the youth
With gladsome shouts, and all the virgins hail
With choral song, or thro the mazy dance
In tuneful cadence ply their airy feet;
While in his breast a double share of bliss
Extatic swells, and all his conscious mind
Is fraught with strong, with exquisite delight.

But should the fates his wish'd return deny,
And death resistless strike the mortal blow,
Lo! from his feeble arm the uplifted sword
Unnoticed drops; valour beholds no more
His ardent glance, shot from the enkindled soul.
Yet still on her his swimming sight he throws,
On her, and liberty, as o'er his wounds
In tenderest grief they sprinkle the salt tear,
And pleased to engage their pity, smiles and dies.
Hallowed by them, what yet survives, his name
They guard with purest zeal; at their command
Heaven-nurtured truth assumes her golden pen,
And opes the historic page; at their command

199

Obedient sculpture lifts the pious urn,
And animated bust; they speak, and all
The Aonian nine tune their melodious strains:
Or graved on adamantine tablet, fame
Suspends them high in her eternal dome,
That latest times may read, admire, and love
The man, who when his country call'd him forth,
Devoted bled.—Such, amid Indian wilds,
Fell gallant Howe; such, prodigal of life,
Upon Canadian shores, illustrious Wolfe
Resign'd his patriot soul. Oh! early lost!
From thy full noon, what glories hope portray'd,
So bright thy morning beam! to last, too bright—
Soon overwhelm'd by the dark clouds of death.

Benignant Power, from whom my numbers spring!
Ah! what avails it, that our groves, our lawns
Enraptured own thy presence; that around
Our coasts, is flung, productive of soft ease,
Thy genial girdle; if on foreign strands
Our chosen Heros are condemn'd to expire,
A prey to the stern furies? if the waves,
Where'er they roll, are tinged with British blood?

200

Lo! from beyond the vast Atlantic surge,
To where the Ganges pours his mighty stream,
Flooding the Orient, War hath fix'd his sway,
Grim slaughter waves his crimson flag, on high
Revenge directs her course, and far and wide
Echoes the yell of discord. Oh! appear,
Long absent, to the labouring world; disclose
Thy virgin charms, deck'd in thy silver vest,
Advance with modest step, and strait abash'd
Each monster shall retort his felon brow,
Or envious, look askance, but all too weak
To glut their rage on thee, shall in their flight
Desperately rend each other; while behind
Vengeance shall raise his livid arm sublime,
Shaking a whip of scorpions, far beyond
The flaming limits of the world, to urge
Their way, amid the jarring elements
Immerged, fit habitation. Thou shalt seize
The rod of empire; happy in thy smile
The nations shall rejoice. I see the quick,
The wondrous change; I see before my eyes
The gayly-shifted scene; the realms of Peace
Lye open to my view; I taste, I feel

201

The balmy zest of pleasure, as my steps
Pervade the lovely range; sure Nature here
Unsullied wantons; here Favonius sports;
Tricks his light plumes, or on the blushing cheek
Of Flora, hangs enamour'd. I behold
Arcadian plains, verdant as the green banks
Of lily-sprinkled Ladon, famed of yore
For agile satyrs, fauns, and shepherd gods,
The train of Pan. Verdant, as meet the sight
Of old Penéus, where his course he winds,
Thro scenes romantic, Daphne's loved abode,
Thro Tempe's hallow'd groves, and flowery lawns.

Ah! who will lend their succouring hand to guide
My feeble steps to the aerial height
Of yonder craggy mount, whose pine-clad top
Wars with the clouds! thence wide outstretch'd, the view
Mocks the beholder's farthest ken, arise
In mix'd confusion, towers, and tufted trees,
And sheep-deck'd hills, and crouded towns, and seas,
Smooth as the glassy mirrour. Oh! I long
In some purpureal vale at ease to rove
With yon gay band, in festive garments dress'd,

202

Their burnish'd arms, now useless, hung aloft
Amid the laurel shade. With them recline
Beneath some spreading beech, or oak, whose roots
Bathe in the brook beneath, and whose large limbs
Deny all entrance to the noon-tide beam;
Attentive to each soul-arresting tale
Of war, of bloodshed, and of sieges dire,
Rencounters fierce, and victory hovering o'er
With dubious wing.—Thence turning, I espy
A mazy path, deep thro the sacred grove
It seems to wind; a solitude serene;
Except what artless symphony dispense
The feather'd race, in many a liquid trill,
From every springing shrub, and moss-grown tree.

Herb I proceed, nought fearing lest the charms
Tempt to betray, or as in times of yore
The red-cross Knight, thro such a specious track,
Startled, I view the den of Error foul,
Dread monster, soon by his sharp-pointed steel
Laid low.—This brings to the delicious bowers
Of Peace, the tranquil region of her sway,
Aloof from prying boldness. May I dare

203

Enter these bless'd retreats, where fancy sees
At every turn ideal beings move,
Exceeding human far! here stalks along
Musing, and solemn, contemplation slow,
Cross'd are his arms, his stedfast looks are bent
Inward, and rapt he seems in extasy.
There sits philosophy, his wrinkled front
And hoary head proclaim him old, but young
And vigorous is his mind, and active soars
Amid the stars; here virtue walks, array'd
In dignity august, yet simply grand,
Unstudious of attire; on either side
Two sweet companions, modesty the one,
Of blushing cheek, the other innocence,
Known by her spotless zone. The smiling form
Of boon content, lock'd hand in hand with health,
Speeds o'er the level surface of the green.
Here fairy fiction weaves her painted stole,
The colours from the bright ethereal woof
Of variegated Iris taken. Here
The Muses daily sing, and all night long
Ceaseless entwine the many-sounding threads
Of harmony. Rapture with greedy ear

204

Attends. My gazing eyes transported view
The glowing face of love; the nimble gait
Of florid youth, sallying with keen desire
To where beneath the myrtle's odorous shade
Beauty awaits his coming.—Oh, ye powers!
Ye airy substances, Oh! tell me where
Is she whom you adore? Who gives you all
Unruffled, in these woods, these caves, and streams,
To walk, to lye, to bathe your graceful limbs;
Who from your presence drives the rout profane
Of dissonance, and tumult. Tell me where
Now in the silent noon she dwells retired.

In yon refreshing grot, around whose sides
The clinging woodbine, and the fragrant briar
Luxuriant rove; where the rich jasmine sheds
Its bounteous pérfume, at whose entrance rise
Spontaneous flowers, where springs the primrose pale,
The cowslip, and much-varied pink, the rose,
The daisy meekly clad, the violet sweet,
With all the incense genial Maia yields.

205

I see her! O Immortal! by the choir
Of winged songsters, by the elysian gales
Fanning thy grotto, by the liquid pearls
Which drop by drop down from the arch'd roof fall,
By thy own auburn ringlets, by the fire
Mild-beaming from thine azure eyes, the smile
Dimpling thy cheek, thy sweetly-breathing lip,
That soft serenity which gently plays
O'er thy whole frame, by each attractive grace,
Each placid inmate of this holy seat,
Oh! listen to my prayer! With aspect bland
Pardon that rashness, which with giddy step
Urged hither my unhallow'd feet. Forgive
That all-unskill'd in song, my youthful lays
Rough, and uncouth, have jarr'd thy purer sense
With harsh disturbance. Yet, if I have err'd,
To the blind impulse of mistaken zeal
Impute the unguarded deed. Thee I adored
From earliest years; thee, now the rising down
Shadows my chin, with added warmth adore.
And dost thou hear indulgent? Nay benign
Approve my verse? Oh blessing, far beyond
My utmost hope! Still shall my vows be paid

206

To thee, with true devotion; and compell'd
With care to sojourn, to the busy paths
Of life exiled, still shall my ardent love
On thee be fix'd: thee will I oft invoke
With fond regret: and haply tho condemn'd
Ne'er more to pierce these Academic shades,
Thy visions not unfrequent, may be spread
Before my sight: thy form divine appear,
And tune to melody the new-strung lyre.

207

On TAKING the HAVANNAH.

Mourn, mourn Iberia! prostrate in the dust
Lay thy once-haughty form! while thus breaks forth
The deep, impassion'd anguish of thy mind.

“Accursed be those, eternal bane pursue,
And taint with blackest infamy their names,
Who first with impious counsels dared advise
To join my aid, and help the sinking state
Of ruin'd Gallia!—Never more may peace
Attend their footsteps, who so rashly framed
The boasted compact!—Fools! who did not think
What enemy they roused to venturous deeds.
Who did not, tho by sad experience taught,
Reflect on days of yore, and thence foretell
Confusion to their hopes.—Have I not seen
Edward, tremendous in his sable arms?
Have I not often heard the dreaded name

208

Of Raleigh? oft of Drake? Have I forgot
When all the riches of our western world
Vigo beheld, or taken, or in flames?
Or when Gibraltar lowly-stooping, sigh'd
O'er her scaled bulwarks? Or, when urged by fame
Heroic Peterborough laugh'd to scorn
Numbers, and strength superior, having fix'd
His standard on the subjugated walls
Of Punic-built Barcino? Dauntless soars
The British spirit, holding undepress'd
Its glorious way. Oh, Britain! Oh, adorn'd
By our disgrace! triumph, and bliss are thine,
Mine is despair. Oh, Cuba! word of joy
Erst, and delight, now of reproach, Oh, Isle
Beloved, how art thou torn from my embrace,
Perhaps forever!”—Thus Iberia, mourn,
By day, by night, nor rear from off the earth
Thy weak, enervate limbs.—But thou rejoice
Oh, Antillean Genius! shout aloud,
And call thy Nymphs around thee from their grots,
And caves, call forth thy Dryads from their groves
Breathing perfumes. Bid sound the sprightly song;
Bid lead the frolic dance: And say “Rejoice

209

With me, ye Nymphs, rejoice ye virgin train!
Again delighted range my woods, my dells,
And wide savannahs. Now arrives the day
Long time by me invoked, to oppress with woe
The fell Iberian race, whose cruel minds,
Hard, and unfeeling from the lust of gold,
Prompted their willing hands to extirpate
My old inhabitants; e'en hoary heads,
And tender years for mercy cried in vain.
Then did the heavens weep blood, in agony
The mountains trembled, and the chafed ocean
Lash'd the resounding shores with indignation.
I o'er my face my mantle threw, and struck
With inexpressive horror, inly groan'd.
You shriek'd, and wildly ran to hide forlorn,
In dens, and caverns, never visited
By Sol's intruding splendor, where you might
Indulge the potent grief which wrung your souls.
But now the time is come, the time to cease
Your ejulations, and cast off the weeds
Of sorrow.—Vengeance on them lowers, his form
Gigantic shades the land, his quiver bears
Its winged shafts terrific, he essays

210

His strength, and preluding, to contact draws
The points of his renitent bow. He calls
Far from the north, from the white-clifted Isle,
The sons of war; by rapid winds impell'd,
They speed across the Atlantic. Brave their souls;
And proud in conscious worth, they view unmoved
The frown of death. Their Enemies dismay'd,
And anxious, droop.—What numbers soon to fall!
Their firm-ribb'd ships, high-towering o'er the deep,
In vain protect them, their strong gates in vain,
And force-defying ramparts, and in vain
Velasco, best, and bravest of his kind;
Whom, had not hate hereditary steel'd
My nerves, I should behold with pitying eye.
His efforts fail, and on the well-fought breach
Lo! he expires! Now Vengeance drench'd in streams
Of reeking crimson, leads his heroes on,
And now the Isle is theirs. Oh! gratulate
The valiant, the avengers. May they ne'er
Restore the conquest; grant it not ye Powers,
All, who detest injustice!”—In the prayer
Of Cuba's Genius, Thou Britannia join!
Say to thy sons “Hold fast this matchless prize,

211

Transcendent o'er the Caribbean Isles,
Pride of the western Ind! Reject her not,
Lest other nations tauntingly observe,
Thus fight Britannia's progeny in sport,
Thus waste their treasures, and the generous blood
Of those, whose valour awes the astonied world.
Ah! if her stores of aloes, and of myrrh,
And fragrant cassia, her delicious fruits,
Worthy of Paradise, which might enchant
A second Eve, her hills clad with each tree
For use, or ornament, her sugar'd fields,
Her luxury of charms, cannot entice
And win you to possession, yet let not
My enemies insultingly reproach
Your easy folly, nor become the tale
Of scorn, and laughter to perfidious Gaul.”

213

On GENIUS.

Say, what is Genius? with the human form
Is it connate? or is it gain'd by years,
Like the corporeal efforts? Its prime food
Is vivid inclination to excell.
By emulative warmth, and love of fame
Its growth is cherish'd, industry and toil
Clothe it in strength and beauty. Oft its powers
Torpidly slumber, till a fervid ray
Impell'd by chance, awakens them to life.

Yet we affirm that nature must adapt
Each fibril, bearing to the source of soul
External impulses; must to the brain
Impart its happy texture, to receive,
Retain, renew, associate, or reject
Those multiform impressions, which each sense
Thither conveys. Else, strong desire would fail,

214

No works, but those of hebetude appear,
Or phantoms of inanity. The brain
Completely moulded, its auxiliar nerves
With quickest sensibility endued,
We the foundation trace, tho nice, yet sure,
On which, colleaguing with attentive care,
Incumbent o'er his many-colour'd mass,
His vast collection of ideal stores,
Genius those structures elevates, which strike
The admiring eye, and claim immortal praise.

For now, unknown at first, by due degrees
The qualities are his, which only stamp
His mental frame and character exact,
Judgment, and taste, and elegance.—Observe
Where youthful rapture gazes on the page
Of fairy poesy; seizing the pen,
He tries, he fails; again, again he tries,
As often fails; yet eagerly pursues
His daring plan, to equal, to surpass
His favorite prototypes, and round his brow
Twine laurel wreathes. He darts his curious eye
O'er nature's face, examines, and compares

215

The copy with the original, acquires
Himself ideas new; abstracts, combines,
Assimilates, and modifies them all
A thousand different ways; a stile, a grace,
A manner of his own at length he boasts,
And scorns weak imitation. These are toils,
The free indeed, and the spontaneous toils
Which nurture Genius, and which constitute
His finest pleasures.—Why, with strong desire,
With seeming equal ardour in the chace,
Does excellence another's grasp elude?
Because his nerves, or that ethereal, pure,
Elastic fluid which pervades the nerves,
Have diverse modes of action, are unfit
Impressions fine, or vigorous, to convey
To the warm seat of thought; or else because
The brain not duly textured, only feels
Sensations blunt or faint, with efforts faint
Reflected, and confused. From nature then
Alone is genius sprung, at least she gives
That mechanism of parts, to which he owes
The very capability of life.

216

Earlier, or later, whether chance excite,
Or inclination fire, she to the bard
Imparts his numbers, she harmonious sounds
To masters of the lyre, to painters tints
Of loveliest hue, and bright ideal grace.
She fixes deep, and she diversifies
The thoughts of men, and stretches out the bounds
They ne'er can pass. Her stamina to change,
Transcends all mortal skill; else Johnson's strains,
Had vied with Shakespear's, Whitehead's equall'd Gray's.
We must be what we can, not what we will.
Leisure, and opportunity, and chance,
And ardent emulation, nought avail
To raise up genius, if the organic tone
By nature is denied. The general race,
In science, and each art they cultivate,
Haply by unremitting labour taught,
May partially excell.—But how unlike
Is genius? and how rarely shines reveal'd
His dazzling aspect!—In four thousand years,
One Homer, and one Shakespear have arisen.
Virgil himself, is but of second rate,
Compared with them. One Newton time hath seen

217

In his vast journey. Yet the scale abounds
With numerous gradations. In the realms
Of swarthy Afric, mediocrity
Itself is genius; far beneath that point
Myriads are fix'd, till scarcely intellect
Exceeds the Oran Outang's.—All depends
Join'd with the swift transmissive power of nerve,
On the sensorial energy of brain,
Its shape, and size, and weight, proportionate
To the whole frame. Largely with this supplied,
Had a still larger volume been assign'd,
Half-reasoning elephants had reason'd quite.
A trifling weight haply the balance turn'd
Between a Tully, and a Catiline,
A Marius, and Metellus.—Nature's hand
Is visible throughout; no force of art,
No labour, cultivation, fervid hope,
Industrious effort, can avert the blight
Of her frugality.—Yet in its birth,
Genius may be extinguish'd by disease,
Strangled by poverty, sunk in the dust
By stern oppression, or by indolence
Cursed with perpetual barrenness of mind.

218

But give the tone of brain, the nerves which bear
Faithful impressions strong; give the mild sun
Of opportunity to dart its rays;
Give leisure, curious search, the strenuous thought
Aiming at worth superlative, give time
Which solely perfects wisdom; and the form
Of Genius will arise, on eagle wing
To soar to heaven, or with a lynx's eye
To penetrate the abyss, to associate all
The charms of beauty, grasp the true sublime,
Add novel tints to fancy's rainbow dress;
Or separate the clouds by error spread,
Till all the gloom is vanquish'd, and the light
Of intellectual day wide-blazing streams.

219

To INDEPENDENCE.

1787.

Hail Independence! on thy sacred altar
I heap devoutest offerings.—If misled
By phantoms of imaginary good,
From thy rough path sublime, from the keen air
Thy mountains breathe, my steps have turn'd aside
Tho but an instant, or a thought escaped
Toward the low vale, or thick o'ershading grove,
If thus my soul e'er felt a transient wound,
The flaw of weak mortality forgive!
And let me, strenuous task, forgive myself!
While smoothed the scar, and re-inspired by thee,
Doubly enamour'd of thy form august,
Erect I move, and with unblushing face
Claim thy alliance; and in solemn strain
Swear never more from thy bright track to cast
A devious look; or injure, what no wealth

220

Can ever recompence, no fame obtain'd
From the rank vulgar, ever can repay,
That conscious honour, that nice sense of worth,
O'er which the firm, and unsequacious mind
In secret broods, exulting as she tastes
The true, luxurious pleasure.—That I first
Beheld the light, free-born, on Albion's coast,
Nor yet among the meanest of her sons,
Necessitous, to penury exposed,
My grateful thanks to Heaven are due. Oh shame!
These blessings to degrade, confine my limbs
With golden shackles, and descend beneath,
In voluntary abjectness of soul,
Not only the poor hind who guides the plough,
But the pied-coated beggar. Have I drank
At the clear stream of science? Have I read
The stoic lesson? and in groveling wise
Shall I so stoop, and call myself a man,
In flattery to my equals, my inferiors,
However with the gifts of fortune cramm'd,
That e'en my dog, if granted words and sense,
Would cry, how I despise thee!—Not from this,
From this alone, O Goddess of my prayers!

221

Defend thy votary; but inspire me still
With that unyielding spirit, which resists
Pride's domination, and with fix'd contempt
Eyes the malicious scorner. While in vain
The many-acred blockhead thinks to find
Me on his nod attendant, at his smile
Cringing, and with officious haste his will
Anticipating, e'er his tongue command,
Haply when he despairs of life, and craves
Art's sage assistance, to receive the few
Vile counters, by necessity extorted,
Which he so dearly estimates; to me,
Which are but glittering nothings.—Yes, pursue
Such modes of action, call them politic,
And thrive by them, who list. I know mankind
As well as they, and know base humours please
The base, that feign'd respect appears as real,
That few, from self-complacence, can escape
The flatterer's bait, and twenty saws, to prove
That men, like callow birds, are oft the prey
Of reptile sharpers.—But I know myself,
And will not, cannot pay the price for goods
I deem of sordid grain. The price not paid,

222

In the world's ware-house let them rot for me,
Or clothe the backs of fools, and prodigals.
Fools, who on gew-gaws set a value, far
Beyond their worth intrinsic; prodigals,
Who in exchange, give what exceeds all price,
Sincerity, integrity, and honour.

Yet Goddess! would I not austerely dwell,
A solitary Being. While I trample
Malice, and spleen, and pride, beneath my feet,
The good, the just, nay, e'en the rich, and great,
If rich in virtue, and if great of soul,
Claim, and shall have my reverence. They are form'd
For all mankind, I own them form'd for me,
Nor would I boast of independence here.

Neither the ties of nature would I loose,
Stifle the fond affections, quit the duties
Mild, relative, reciprocal, nor fail
To bend with anxious care to those beneath me.
The high-o'eruling, independent, one,
Essence of essences, supremely blest,
His creatures, tho so infinitely low,

223

Sustains, preserves, with mercy and with kindness
Shrouding from human view his aweful sway,
And stern-eyed justice.—Pride is madly-fierce,
Wresting from all alike insulted homage,
But triumphs most o'er the depress'd, and weak.
True Independence fears not to be humble;
Hating servility, she renders light
The weight of obligation; bids the wretched
With confidence uplift the timid eye;
Bids them approximate, and joins herself.

FINIS.