 | Poetical Tales |  |
1
INTRODUCTION.
Ladies,
I've often thought it was a pity
That you should ever go to hell;
Your little persons are so pretty,
And they become your souls so well.
Besides, I know your hearts are good
If they were rightly understood;
Though, by some wonderful fatality,
You seldom practice your morality.
That you should ever go to hell;
Your little persons are so pretty,
And they become your souls so well.
Besides, I know your hearts are good
If they were rightly understood;
Though, by some wonderful fatality,
You seldom practice your morality.
One beauty is seduc'd by pleasure,
A second led away by fashion,
A third is caught for want of leisure
To put her virtue in a passion.
Others, untainted by desire,
To priests their virgin flow'r have given,
To save their precious souls from fire,
And pay the turnpikes up to heaven.
Now this would be extremely well:
But you're so apt to kiss and tell.
Or else some prudes observe your fall;
And they're such damn'd ill-natur'd elves,
They never pick you up themselves,
But stand and bawl,
Calling your neighbours one and all.
A second led away by fashion,
A third is caught for want of leisure
To put her virtue in a passion.
Others, untainted by desire,
To priests their virgin flow'r have given,
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And pay the turnpikes up to heaven.
Now this would be extremely well:
But you're so apt to kiss and tell.
Or else some prudes observe your fall;
And they're such damn'd ill-natur'd elves,
They never pick you up themselves,
But stand and bawl,
Calling your neighbours one and all.
Then issues forth a noisy group,
Talking as fast as they can utter,
Like amorous turkies in a coop,
Or empty bottles in a gutter.
Then they're so full of spite,
Because their features put us in a fright,
Should you but chance to get the vapours,
By over-studying and reading,
They swear at once that you are breeding,
And put you in the papers.
Talking as fast as they can utter,
Like amorous turkies in a coop,
Or empty bottles in a gutter.
Then they're so full of spite,
Because their features put us in a fright,
Should you but chance to get the vapours,
By over-studying and reading,
They swear at once that you are breeding,
And put you in the papers.
But what is harder still is this,
(I know the thoughts of your Mamas)
Should any of you act amiss,
They'll swear my verses were the cause.
They'll all be canvassing and gleaning,
Raking each verse to find a meaning.
Whereas, you'll know, if you proceed,
I never think—I don't indeed.
I only pass the rainy weather
In stringing a few rhimes together;
And then I call them tales, you know,
As I call this an Introduction,
Because 'tis only meant for show,
Not for amusement or instruction.
For Poets, when their works are long,
Must deck them with some previous rhime,
Just as a hero sings a song,
To tell you he's distress'd for time.
(I know the thoughts of your Mamas)
Should any of you act amiss,
They'll swear my verses were the cause.
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Raking each verse to find a meaning.
Whereas, you'll know, if you proceed,
I never think—I don't indeed.
I only pass the rainy weather
In stringing a few rhimes together;
And then I call them tales, you know,
As I call this an Introduction,
Because 'tis only meant for show,
Not for amusement or instruction.
For Poets, when their works are long,
Must deck them with some previous rhime,
Just as a hero sings a song,
To tell you he's distress'd for time.
5
THE BROTHERS.
A TALE.
Who hath been deaf to Patrick's fame?
Who hath not heard Hibernia's name,
Where Patrick preach'd God's holy rites,
And made his bulls and proselytes?
Who hath not seen that genial climate,
Where all are zealous as the Primate,
To put in force the law of Moses,
By multiplying human noses?
Who hath not heard Hibernia's name,
Where Patrick preach'd God's holy rites,
And made his bulls and proselytes?
Who hath not seen that genial climate,
Where all are zealous as the Primate,
To put in force the law of Moses,
By multiplying human noses?
Here, if tradition be believ'd,
In days of yore three brothers liv'd,
With youth, and health, and power elate,
Taking delight in worldly riches;
And heedless of that blessed state,
Where saints sing psalms without their breeches.
Throughout their manor's wretched round
They kill'd the game, and poach'd the ground,
And seiz'd on every wand'ring fair,
And truss'd her like a hare:
While the poor clown, with streaming eyes,
And hands uplifted to the skies,
Implor'd each saint to save from slaughter
His poultry and his daughter;
And every climacteric beauty,
Anxious and trembling for her child,
Wish'd in her stead to pay the duty,
And be defil'd.
In days of yore three brothers liv'd,
With youth, and health, and power elate,
Taking delight in worldly riches;
And heedless of that blessed state,
Where saints sing psalms without their breeches.
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They kill'd the game, and poach'd the ground,
And seiz'd on every wand'ring fair,
And truss'd her like a hare:
While the poor clown, with streaming eyes,
And hands uplifted to the skies,
Implor'd each saint to save from slaughter
His poultry and his daughter;
And every climacteric beauty,
Anxious and trembling for her child,
Wish'd in her stead to pay the duty,
And be defil'd.
Yet mid the wreck one harmless maid,
One meek, unnotic'd flower,
Beneath a cassock's fost'ring shade,
Escap'd the stormy blast of power.
No storms disturb the Curate's peace,
And Nancy was the Curate's niece.
Poor Innocent! She little knew
To fix the rake's disorder'd view;
No art had she, no studied guile,
Nought but the meek, imploring eye,
The trembling blush, the fearful smile,
Of unsuspecting modesty!—
The Parson calmly pass'd his life
In training Nancy for a wife,
Preaching the force of special grace,
Inculcating some moral duty,
Or sometimes spitting in her face
In commendation of her beauty.
One meek, unnotic'd flower,
Beneath a cassock's fost'ring shade,
Escap'd the stormy blast of power.
No storms disturb the Curate's peace,
And Nancy was the Curate's niece.
Poor Innocent! She little knew
To fix the rake's disorder'd view;
No art had she, no studied guile,
Nought but the meek, imploring eye,
The trembling blush, the fearful smile,
Of unsuspecting modesty!—
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In training Nancy for a wife,
Preaching the force of special grace,
Inculcating some moral duty,
Or sometimes spitting in her face
In commendation of her beauty.
But heav'n at times, to prove its saints,
Their wisest measures circumvents.
At the next village was a ball,
Which drew the neighbours one and all,
Both old and young, both girls and boys,
To dance, make love, and make a noise.
What joy in Nancy's face appears!—
But how to calm her uncle's fears?
Those Brothers!—True.—But at sixteen
'Tis time to see, and to be seen;
So, spight of all the Priest may say,
Nancy resolves to have her way.
Alas! how vain that threat'ning look,
That angry frown, that stern rebuke!
The stern rebuke, the angry frowns,
His weak, relenting heart disowns.
Ah! when the palpitating veil
Betray'd her bosom's anxious swell,
That bosom, where each wakening sense
Thrill'd with desire and diffidence,
When fondly to his heart it prest,
Could anger chill the uncle's breast!
Their wisest measures circumvents.
At the next village was a ball,
Which drew the neighbours one and all,
Both old and young, both girls and boys,
To dance, make love, and make a noise.
What joy in Nancy's face appears!—
But how to calm her uncle's fears?
Those Brothers!—True.—But at sixteen
'Tis time to see, and to be seen;
So, spight of all the Priest may say,
Nancy resolves to have her way.
Alas! how vain that threat'ning look,
That angry frown, that stern rebuke!
The stern rebuke, the angry frowns,
His weak, relenting heart disowns.
Ah! when the palpitating veil
Betray'd her bosom's anxious swell,
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Thrill'd with desire and diffidence,
When fondly to his heart it prest,
Could anger chill the uncle's breast!
At length the wish'd-for sun arose,
The ass stood saddled in the yard,
And Thomas in his Sunday cloaths,
Stept forth the beauty's destin'd guard.
The march began. The way was long,
But Tom, by many a rustic song,
And tales of many a wond'rous feat,
Contriv'd the weary way to cheat.
And now the distant chimes they hear,
And now the distant spires appear,
And now—but at a narrow pass,
Our travelling pair observ'd a change
Most inconceivable and strange
In the behaviour of the ass.
This ass was rather hard to curry,
It always put him in the vapours,
And made him scramble and cut capers,
Just like a Dutchman in a hurry.
'Tis also said, that in the summer,
When he was thinking of his wife,
And all the joys of social life,
He grew as noisy as a drummer;
Chaunting, like any Pagan bard,
His charmer's panegyrics,
Manœuvring in the parson's yard,
Throwing the geese into hysterics.
But here the ass was in the right,
The Brothers put him in a fright:
And now emerging from a ditch,
They told the girl she was a bitch,
And held a pistol to her breast,
With a blaspheming exhortation,
To set her mind at rest,
And quietly submit to violation.
The ass stood saddled in the yard,
And Thomas in his Sunday cloaths,
Stept forth the beauty's destin'd guard.
The march began. The way was long,
But Tom, by many a rustic song,
And tales of many a wond'rous feat,
Contriv'd the weary way to cheat.
And now the distant chimes they hear,
And now the distant spires appear,
And now—but at a narrow pass,
Our travelling pair observ'd a change
Most inconceivable and strange
In the behaviour of the ass.
This ass was rather hard to curry,
It always put him in the vapours,
And made him scramble and cut capers,
Just like a Dutchman in a hurry.
'Tis also said, that in the summer,
When he was thinking of his wife,
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He grew as noisy as a drummer;
Chaunting, like any Pagan bard,
His charmer's panegyrics,
Manœuvring in the parson's yard,
Throwing the geese into hysterics.
But here the ass was in the right,
The Brothers put him in a fright:
And now emerging from a ditch,
They told the girl she was a bitch,
And held a pistol to her breast,
With a blaspheming exhortation,
To set her mind at rest,
And quietly submit to violation.
“Hold, hold, your honours,” Thomas cries,
(This stratagem his fear supplies)
“She is no maid, upon my life,
“This is our Nancy, she's my wife;
“I know your honours wo'n't disgrace
“And cuckold me before my face!”
(This stratagem his fear supplies)
“She is no maid, upon my life,
“This is our Nancy, she's my wife;
“I know your honours wo'n't disgrace
“And cuckold me before my face!”
“'Tis well,” the savages reply'd,
“But Nancy is so young a bride,
“Friend Tom will surely be so good
“To pay once more his marriage dues.
“'Tis our request, he can't refuse,
“Besides—we'll kill him if he should.”
“But Nancy is so young a bride,
“Friend Tom will surely be so good
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“'Tis our request, he can't refuse,
“Besides—we'll kill him if he should.”
Ah, Thomas! could thy single hand
Their whole united strength withstand?
Could'st thou by cunning, force, or wit—
'Tis vain! and Thomas must submit.—
Yet in her tears he bore a part,
And sympathiz'd with Nancy's heart.
Griev'd to behold th' insulted maid,
Her every charm at once display'd;
Those globes her stays were wont to kiss,
And those, by no fond stays confin'd,
Which by a fine antithesis
Nature thought fit to place behind;
The taper legs, the rounded thighs,—
But, Ladies,—Thomas was a man.
We cannot always shut our eyes;
Do what we can,
Nature will take us by surprize.
He saw poor Nancy in a trance,
And this redoubled his contrition;
Then he examin'd her position,
And then he took another glance,
And executed his commission.
Awed by the sight, the Parson's beast
Forgot his natural depravity,
Publish'd the banns with proper gravity,
And sanctified the feast.
Their whole united strength withstand?
Could'st thou by cunning, force, or wit—
'Tis vain! and Thomas must submit.—
Yet in her tears he bore a part,
And sympathiz'd with Nancy's heart.
Griev'd to behold th' insulted maid,
Her every charm at once display'd;
Those globes her stays were wont to kiss,
And those, by no fond stays confin'd,
Which by a fine antithesis
Nature thought fit to place behind;
The taper legs, the rounded thighs,—
But, Ladies,—Thomas was a man.
We cannot always shut our eyes;
Do what we can,
Nature will take us by surprize.
He saw poor Nancy in a trance,
And this redoubled his contrition;
Then he examin'd her position,
And then he took another glance,
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Awed by the sight, the Parson's beast
Forgot his natural depravity,
Publish'd the banns with proper gravity,
And sanctified the feast.
But then the Brothers?—they retir'd,
With hopes of newer pleasures fir'd.
Yet, wretched fiends! ye ne'er shall know
The joys true fondness can bestow:
When age shall chill each lustful breast,
And bid those stormy passions rest,
In that dread calm shall conscience rise,
And echoing in your wounded ears,
Each father's curse, each virgin's cries,
Wake your rack'd souls to ceaseless fears.
While Thomas, and his lovely bride,
(For soon their plain and artless tale
Shall o'er the Uncle's wrath prevail)
By closest, dearest ties allied,
At once to love and virtue true,
Their guiltless hand to heaven shall raise,
Repay their joys with heart-felt praise,
And even waste one pray'r for You.
With hopes of newer pleasures fir'd.
Yet, wretched fiends! ye ne'er shall know
The joys true fondness can bestow:
When age shall chill each lustful breast,
And bid those stormy passions rest,
In that dread calm shall conscience rise,
And echoing in your wounded ears,
Each father's curse, each virgin's cries,
Wake your rack'd souls to ceaseless fears.
While Thomas, and his lovely bride,
(For soon their plain and artless tale
Shall o'er the Uncle's wrath prevail)
By closest, dearest ties allied,
At once to love and virtue true,
Their guiltless hand to heaven shall raise,
Repay their joys with heart-felt praise,
And even waste one pray'r for You.
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THE USELESS PRECAUTION.
Husbands are such provoking fellows!
I've often wish'd it was high treason
For any husband to be jealous,
Whether he had or had not reason.
I hate a husband like a Tory.
But to proceed—
Now, Ladies, you have heard my creed,
Pray be so kind to hear my story.
I've often wish'd it was high treason
For any husband to be jealous,
Whether he had or had not reason.
I hate a husband like a Tory.
But to proceed—
Now, Ladies, you have heard my creed,
Pray be so kind to hear my story.
There liv'd a Don, no matter where,
As jealous as his wife was fair.
The Dame was cautious in her carriage,
So very cautious, you'd have thought her
Not Eve's, but only Adam's daughter,
His daughter by a second marriage.
Was most severe on worldly dames,
And damn'd the devil, and call'd him names.
But all her virtue was in vain,
She could not calm his troubled brain.
For all the plans that Madam could devise,
Gall'd by the matrimonial chain,
Her husband never clos'd his eyes;
His doubts return'd with double force,
Buzzing about his ears, like flies
That buzz about a poor gall'd horse.
As jealous as his wife was fair.
The Dame was cautious in her carriage,
So very cautious, you'd have thought her
Not Eve's, but only Adam's daughter,
His daughter by a second marriage.
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And damn'd the devil, and call'd him names.
But all her virtue was in vain,
She could not calm his troubled brain.
For all the plans that Madam could devise,
Gall'd by the matrimonial chain,
Her husband never clos'd his eyes;
His doubts return'd with double force,
Buzzing about his ears, like flies
That buzz about a poor gall'd horse.
To strengthen the devotion of his bride,
A thousand bars and bolts he try'd,
All guarded by a maiden aunt;
A dragon fierce and gaunt,
A cold, chaste, meagre female devil,
As scraggy as a walking ladder,
And so impertinently civil,
She follow'd like the Lady's shadow.
But what he deem'd his coup de maitre,
Was a strange kind of nomenclature,
Containing an exact relation
Of every stratagem and trick
Devis'd by woman or old nick,
Since cuckold-making came in fashion.
A thousand bars and bolts he try'd,
All guarded by a maiden aunt;
A dragon fierce and gaunt,
A cold, chaste, meagre female devil,
As scraggy as a walking ladder,
And so impertinently civil,
She follow'd like the Lady's shadow.
But what he deem'd his coup de maitre,
Was a strange kind of nomenclature,
Containing an exact relation
Of every stratagem and trick
Devis'd by woman or old nick,
Since cuckold-making came in fashion.
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This serv'd to calm his jealous fear.
But did it answer? You shall hear.
Once on a time, it came to pass
That good Aunt Deborah and Co
Went out to mass,
As having no where else to go;
And as they went, a shower came dropping,
And gave them both a sopping.
This was no shower of common water,
For that had been a trifling matter;
This was not water fit for drinking,
For since its solar distillation,
By an improper education,
It had acquir'd a trick of stinking.
But did it answer? You shall hear.
Once on a time, it came to pass
That good Aunt Deborah and Co
Went out to mass,
As having no where else to go;
And as they went, a shower came dropping,
And gave them both a sopping.
This was no shower of common water,
For that had been a trifling matter;
This was not water fit for drinking,
For since its solar distillation,
By an improper education,
It had acquir'd a trick of stinking.
What's to be done in this event?
A gentle youth by chance was near,
Who, while the Aunt for cloaths was sent,
Wip'd from the fair-one's eye each falling tear.
The Fair, lest meddling prudes should scold,
Or else by her devotions led,
Or else for fear of catching cold,
Took refuge in the stripling's bed.
So while the Don was making a strange clatter,
Kicking the maiden aunt down stairs,
Cursing all the saints by pairs,
Tearing his hair and nomenclature,
Sweating and stewing like a sausage—
To pass his time our curious boy
Was sailing on the sea of joy,
Sailing to find the north-east passage.
A gentle youth by chance was near,
Who, while the Aunt for cloaths was sent,
Wip'd from the fair-one's eye each falling tear.
The Fair, lest meddling prudes should scold,
Or else by her devotions led,
Or else for fear of catching cold,
Took refuge in the stripling's bed.
So while the Don was making a strange clatter,
Kicking the maiden aunt down stairs,
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Tearing his hair and nomenclature,
Sweating and stewing like a sausage—
To pass his time our curious boy
Was sailing on the sea of joy,
Sailing to find the north-east passage.
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THE CANTERBURY TALE.
'Twas in the times of elves and fairies,
Creatures that no man could confide in,
With griffins to supply their dairies,
And dragons for their common riding,
Who put poor sophists in a maze,
Confounded nature tête à tête,
And criticiz'd the book of fate
A thousand different ways;—
In short, it was in Arthur's days,
Caprone liv'd, a courteous wight,
Young, rich, and handsome, and a Knight;
Not like the blustering knights of fable,
A gentle knight, a knight of Arthur's table.
Creatures that no man could confide in,
With griffins to supply their dairies,
And dragons for their common riding,
Who put poor sophists in a maze,
Confounded nature tête à tête,
And criticiz'd the book of fate
A thousand different ways;—
In short, it was in Arthur's days,
Caprone liv'd, a courteous wight,
Young, rich, and handsome, and a Knight;
Not like the blustering knights of fable,
A gentle knight, a knight of Arthur's table.
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And so—I don't know why—
Our hero took it in his head
To womanize a maid;
And so he was condemn'd to die.
Madam, you think this mighty odd,
And so I think it was, by G---d.
But one mistake I do believe
Heighten'd the nature of his crime,
'Twas that the youth, from want of time,
Had never ask'd the Lady's leave.
Now this appear'd to all the quorum
A most prodigious indecorum:
To see a stripling at his years
Such an œconomist in tears!
Beginning, like a common boor,
At the wrong end of an amour!
Our hero took it in his head
To womanize a maid;
And so he was condemn'd to die.
Madam, you think this mighty odd,
And so I think it was, by G---d.
But one mistake I do believe
Heighten'd the nature of his crime,
'Twas that the youth, from want of time,
Had never ask'd the Lady's leave.
Now this appear'd to all the quorum
A most prodigious indecorum:
To see a stripling at his years
Such an œconomist in tears!
Beginning, like a common boor,
At the wrong end of an amour!
But Arthur's Queen, who understood
The force of youthful flesh and blood,
And who, as ancient poets sing,
When wearied with the pomp of pow'r,
Would sometimes pass a leisure hour
In cuckolding the King,
Most humbly begg'd to take upon her
The vindication of her sex's honour.
The penance she impos'd was this:
“That culprit in one year must find
“That idol of the female mind
“Which charms alike Mama and Miss,
“And reigns unrival'd o'er all womankind.
“Should he return without success,
“The court no longer term could give,
“But that in justice they could do no less
“Than hang him up to teach him how to live.”
The force of youthful flesh and blood,
And who, as ancient poets sing,
When wearied with the pomp of pow'r,
Would sometimes pass a leisure hour
In cuckolding the King,
Most humbly begg'd to take upon her
The vindication of her sex's honour.
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“That culprit in one year must find
“That idol of the female mind
“Which charms alike Mama and Miss,
“And reigns unrival'd o'er all womankind.
“Should he return without success,
“The court no longer term could give,
“But that in justice they could do no less
“Than hang him up to teach him how to live.”
Now might I tell (as Smollet erst has done)
How oft he slept
At wretched inns,
And wept
His sins,
That forc'd him thus like English Lord to run,
And still at every post enquire
The object of all womankind's desire.
Some nam'd the glory of high blood,
The reputation of a face,
Or the sweet liberty of widowhood,
Or the delights of flattery and praise,
And some pretended in one spot to find
The great controuler of the female mind.
This spot's the strangest and the oddest!
Madam, you need not hide your face—
My Muse is so extremely modest
She will not name the place.
It is a kind of secret locket,
A locket that a lady carries
For her virginity to sleep in.
It sleeps as if 'twas in her pocket,
Until she marries,
When 'tis no longer worth the keeping.
How oft he slept
At wretched inns,
And wept
His sins,
That forc'd him thus like English Lord to run,
And still at every post enquire
The object of all womankind's desire.
Some nam'd the glory of high blood,
The reputation of a face,
Or the sweet liberty of widowhood,
Or the delights of flattery and praise,
And some pretended in one spot to find
The great controuler of the female mind.
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Madam, you need not hide your face—
My Muse is so extremely modest
She will not name the place.
It is a kind of secret locket,
A locket that a lady carries
For her virginity to sleep in.
It sleeps as if 'twas in her pocket,
Until she marries,
When 'tis no longer worth the keeping.
But to my tale. The day was come
When poor Caprone must come home.
By constant disappointments cross'd,
He journey'd on pensive and mute,
For well he knew that all was lost,
And if he gave up the pursuit,
He with it must give up the ghost.
When poor Caprone must come home.
By constant disappointments cross'd,
He journey'd on pensive and mute,
For well he knew that all was lost,
And if he gave up the pursuit,
He with it must give up the ghost.
While thus disconsolate he rode
Through the thick horrors of an aged wood,
A thousand dulcet sounds were heard,
A thousand angel forms appear'd:
But while he flew along the path,
The dancers vanish'd with as much dispatch
As the fidlers do at Bath
When Mr. Wade holds up his watch.
Instead of these, upon the green,
Sedately sitting on her bum,
Like Contemplation, sucking either thumb,
A female form was seen.
Not of those forms which at each glance inspire
The strong convulsive throbbings of desire,
But rather like a kitchen fender
To keep us from Love's fire,
For she was uglier than the Witch of Endor.
At such a sight, the Knight,
Though not exactly in a fright,
Yet felt a sort of tribulation,
And panic,
Not being used to incantation
And operations satanic,
Manœuvres such as “entre nous”
Might startle either me or you.
Through the thick horrors of an aged wood,
A thousand dulcet sounds were heard,
A thousand angel forms appear'd:
But while he flew along the path,
The dancers vanish'd with as much dispatch
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When Mr. Wade holds up his watch.
Instead of these, upon the green,
Sedately sitting on her bum,
Like Contemplation, sucking either thumb,
A female form was seen.
Not of those forms which at each glance inspire
The strong convulsive throbbings of desire,
But rather like a kitchen fender
To keep us from Love's fire,
For she was uglier than the Witch of Endor.
At such a sight, the Knight,
Though not exactly in a fright,
Yet felt a sort of tribulation,
And panic,
Not being used to incantation
And operations satanic,
Manœuvres such as “entre nous”
Might startle either me or you.
But she, who guest
At the occasion of his fears,
Promis'd to save his neck and ears,
If he would grant her one request.
The Knight you'll think was nothing loth,
So that the oath
Was quickly ratified by both.
At the occasion of his fears,
Promis'd to save his neck and ears,
If he would grant her one request.
The Knight you'll think was nothing loth,
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Was quickly ratified by both.
And now, with exhortations meet,
The female Mansfield takes her seat;
While anxious for the dread decree,
The Jury sit with solemn eyes,
Ruminating, and looking wise,
Like oxen in a reverie.
Then thus our Hero to the court
Made his report.—
“The Master-mover of your sex,
“The cause of all your arts and wiles,
“Your well-dissembled tears and smiles
“With which mankind you sooth or vex,
“Seem kind and civil,
“Or play the devil,
“Is the insatiate love of rule.
“If I'm deceiv'd,
“Friend Satan is a fool,
“And shall no longer be believ'd.”
The female Mansfield takes her seat;
While anxious for the dread decree,
The Jury sit with solemn eyes,
Ruminating, and looking wise,
Like oxen in a reverie.
Then thus our Hero to the court
Made his report.—
“The Master-mover of your sex,
“The cause of all your arts and wiles,
“Your well-dissembled tears and smiles
“With which mankind you sooth or vex,
“Seem kind and civil,
“Or play the devil,
“Is the insatiate love of rule.
“If I'm deceiv'd,
“Friend Satan is a fool,
“And shall no longer be believ'd.”
The answer was by all applauded,
And he with liberty rewarded.
But still new storms, which there is no foreseeing,
O'ercloud the passage of this wretched life;
For now the cursed hag insists on being—
O strange and horrible!—his wife!
In vain he swore 'twas worse than porter's work,
Worse than the galley of a Turk,
With such a worn-out wither'd witch to wed
A damn'd sexagenary maidenhead;
His oath is past, and he is put to bed!
The bride so sweetly her soft wishes mutter'd,
You would have sworn her mouth was butter'd,
'Till grown impatient with desire,
She fum'd, and gap'd, and sputter'd,
Just like an oyster in the fire.
Yet all in vain;
Caprone could not ease her pain;
For the good witch had such a face and shape, as
Would damp the vigour of a young Priapus.
Her nose—you'd swear had been forgot,
But through her nostrils without pain
You might have look'd into her brain,
And trac'd each wand'ring thought.
Her eyes—but they long since had fled,
And taken refuge in her head,
So I can't tell with much precision
Whether they were black or blue.
Her eyelids, like the beauties of a Jew,
Seem'd just escap'd from circumcision.
And he with liberty rewarded.
22
O'ercloud the passage of this wretched life;
For now the cursed hag insists on being—
O strange and horrible!—his wife!
In vain he swore 'twas worse than porter's work,
Worse than the galley of a Turk,
With such a worn-out wither'd witch to wed
A damn'd sexagenary maidenhead;
His oath is past, and he is put to bed!
The bride so sweetly her soft wishes mutter'd,
You would have sworn her mouth was butter'd,
'Till grown impatient with desire,
She fum'd, and gap'd, and sputter'd,
Just like an oyster in the fire.
Yet all in vain;
Caprone could not ease her pain;
For the good witch had such a face and shape, as
Would damp the vigour of a young Priapus.
Her nose—you'd swear had been forgot,
But through her nostrils without pain
You might have look'd into her brain,
And trac'd each wand'ring thought.
Her eyes—but they long since had fled,
And taken refuge in her head,
So I can't tell with much precision
Whether they were black or blue.
23
Seem'd just escap'd from circumcision.
Now, Ladies, you may see
My Tale draws near to a conclusion,
Or what we call catastrophe,
By the confusion
Among the Dramatis Personæ.
We've left our Hero in a scrape,
And in some danger of a rape;
But soft—the Lady thus address'd Caprone:—
“Canst thou, regardless of the vow
“For which I sav'd thy forfeit life,
“Canst thou no other gift allow,
“But the cold, empty name of wife?
“Alas! to what shall virtue trust,
“By the keen glance of envy view'd,
“If every wrinkle can disgust
“The flattering eye of gratitude?
“Say, does thy foolish pride disdain
“Within this wither'd breast to reign?
“Speak but the word, and I assume
“The vernal rose's morning bloom:
“All that the stoic breast can warm;
“Each grace of feature, shape, and hue;
“More than thy youthful thought can form,
“Or fancy's pencil ever drew.
“Yet think'st thou, that by passion fann'd,
“Thy flame shall never, never fail?
“Shall ne'er reflection's meddling hand
“From folly snatch fair beauty's veil?
“Say, can thy jealous fear provide
“'Gainst each insidious, winning art,
“Each wile by foul seduction try'd,
“To gain, and to corrupt the heart?
“Reflect! and let the fatal doom
“By calm discretion's hand be sign'd:
“Nor rashly seek from beauty's bloom
“What only centers in the mind!”
My Tale draws near to a conclusion,
Or what we call catastrophe,
By the confusion
Among the Dramatis Personæ.
We've left our Hero in a scrape,
And in some danger of a rape;
But soft—the Lady thus address'd Caprone:—
“Canst thou, regardless of the vow
“For which I sav'd thy forfeit life,
“Canst thou no other gift allow,
“But the cold, empty name of wife?
“Alas! to what shall virtue trust,
“By the keen glance of envy view'd,
“If every wrinkle can disgust
“The flattering eye of gratitude?
“Say, does thy foolish pride disdain
“Within this wither'd breast to reign?
“Speak but the word, and I assume
“The vernal rose's morning bloom:
“All that the stoic breast can warm;
“Each grace of feature, shape, and hue;
24
“Or fancy's pencil ever drew.
“Yet think'st thou, that by passion fann'd,
“Thy flame shall never, never fail?
“Shall ne'er reflection's meddling hand
“From folly snatch fair beauty's veil?
“Say, can thy jealous fear provide
“'Gainst each insidious, winning art,
“Each wile by foul seduction try'd,
“To gain, and to corrupt the heart?
“Reflect! and let the fatal doom
“By calm discretion's hand be sign'd:
“Nor rashly seek from beauty's bloom
“What only centers in the mind!”
At first he ponder'd,
And then look'd wise, and blunder'd,
And wonder'd,
And tost and flounder'd,
Just like the famous pigs of yore,
The pigs that jump'd into the water,
The pigs that had “le diable au corps,”
The pigs that play'd “le diable à quatre.”
And then look'd wise, and blunder'd,
And wonder'd,
And tost and flounder'd,
Just like the famous pigs of yore,
The pigs that jump'd into the water,
The pigs that had “le diable au corps,”
The pigs that play'd “le diable à quatre.”
At length recovering, God knows how,
“Madam,” says he, “you must allow
“'Twas no excessive predilection
“Either for your parts or figure,
“But a redundancy of vigour,
“That brought me into this connection.
“But since the fatal knot is tied,
“The only way to shew my wit
“Is to submit,
“And to be govern'd by my bride.
“To you my power I resign,
“My life, my fortune, all is thine.”
“Madam,” says he, “you must allow
25
“Either for your parts or figure,
“But a redundancy of vigour,
“That brought me into this connection.
“But since the fatal knot is tied,
“The only way to shew my wit
“Is to submit,
“And to be govern'd by my bride.
“To you my power I resign,
“My life, my fortune, all is thine.”
He spoke—at once each wrinkle disappears,
And every word blots out the trace of years.
But now, dear Muse! my earnest pray'r is,
That you'd not take these damn'd vagaries;
Do not my richest colours taint,
Nor some curs'd sign-post beauty paint,
Some goddess of a city ball,
In whose fat cheeks the red and white
Most matrimonially unite,
Like brick and mortar on a wall:
You've heard of Venus' shape and air—
With them let fancy deck the fair.
Is fancy of the task afraid?—
Steal them from Gr---nby ready made.
Gr---nby, of half her charms bereft,
Will be unconscious of the theft.
Here nature seem'd to mock Pygmalion's art,
All that proportion, all that form can give,
Venus once more had play'd Prometheus' part,
And bid the beauteous wonder love, and live.
To meet the touch now rose her eager breast,
As proud to feel the passion it inspir'd,
And now, by meddling modesty repress'd,
Slow, and reluctant, from the hand retir'd.
Her eyes a thousand tender thoughts reveal'd,
And blushes told whate'er those eyes conceal'd.
And every word blots out the trace of years.
But now, dear Muse! my earnest pray'r is,
That you'd not take these damn'd vagaries;
Do not my richest colours taint,
Nor some curs'd sign-post beauty paint,
Some goddess of a city ball,
In whose fat cheeks the red and white
Most matrimonially unite,
Like brick and mortar on a wall:
You've heard of Venus' shape and air—
With them let fancy deck the fair.
Is fancy of the task afraid?—
Steal them from Gr---nby ready made.
26
Will be unconscious of the theft.
Here nature seem'd to mock Pygmalion's art,
All that proportion, all that form can give,
Venus once more had play'd Prometheus' part,
And bid the beauteous wonder love, and live.
To meet the touch now rose her eager breast,
As proud to feel the passion it inspir'd,
And now, by meddling modesty repress'd,
Slow, and reluctant, from the hand retir'd.
Her eyes a thousand tender thoughts reveal'd,
And blushes told whate'er those eyes conceal'd.
The youth beheld, and madd'ning with desire,
Impetuous rush'd upon the tender maid;
The tender maid, with well-dissembled fire,
And feign'd reluctance, each embrace o'erpaid.
With plaintive notes, half smother'd, half express'd,
She seem'd, like Philomel, her fate to mourn;
Yet strain'd the rude invader to her breast,
And met, like Philomel, the fatal thorn;
In speechless transport clos'd her languid eye,
And on his trembling lip pour'd forth her parting sigh.
Impetuous rush'd upon the tender maid;
The tender maid, with well-dissembled fire,
And feign'd reluctance, each embrace o'erpaid.
With plaintive notes, half smother'd, half express'd,
She seem'd, like Philomel, her fate to mourn;
Yet strain'd the rude invader to her breast,
And met, like Philomel, the fatal thorn;
In speechless transport clos'd her languid eye,
And on his trembling lip pour'd forth her parting sigh.
27
THE MUSSULMAN's DREAM.
The zephyrs were hush'd, the seraglio was still,
The sun faintly gleam'd from the verge of the hill,
From their prisons emerg'd the disconsolate fair,
To brood on their sorrows, and taste the fresh air,
With ugly black eunuchs in terrible rows,
To scare the young people, and frighten the crows;
The Mufti, by sudden devotion inspir'd,
From church to the flesh and the devil retir'd,
Well pleas'd on his favourite's breast to recline,
And drown all reflection in gallons of wine.
The sun faintly gleam'd from the verge of the hill,
From their prisons emerg'd the disconsolate fair,
To brood on their sorrows, and taste the fresh air,
With ugly black eunuchs in terrible rows,
To scare the young people, and frighten the crows;
The Mufti, by sudden devotion inspir'd,
From church to the flesh and the devil retir'd,
Well pleas'd on his favourite's breast to recline,
And drown all reflection in gallons of wine.
Meanwhile, amid the deepening shade,
With downcast eyes, and aching breast,
The youthful Usbeck stray'd.
With rage his country's wrongs he saw,
His God degraded, and mankind oppress'd,
By stern Mohammed's law.
“O thou, all-seeing pow'r,” (he cried)
“Who view'st each thought yet lab'ring in my mind,
“Say, in what secret cell,
“Far from the glance of feeble human kind,
“Doth pure religion dwell?
“Ah where doth truth reside?
“Speak, pitying pow'r! and let that awful breath
“Which clears the sullied face of day,
“Sweep with resistless force these fanes away,
“By superstition rais'd and bought with death!
“Beneath their ruins crush each impious priest,
“Who reeling from th' unhallow'd feast,
“Presumes his guilty hands to raise
“In all the mockery of pray'r.
“Let thy whole race the father's bounties share,
“All earth thy temple, all our bliss thy praise.”
With downcast eyes, and aching breast,
The youthful Usbeck stray'd.
With rage his country's wrongs he saw,
28
By stern Mohammed's law.
“O thou, all-seeing pow'r,” (he cried)
“Who view'st each thought yet lab'ring in my mind,
“Say, in what secret cell,
“Far from the glance of feeble human kind,
“Doth pure religion dwell?
“Ah where doth truth reside?
“Speak, pitying pow'r! and let that awful breath
“Which clears the sullied face of day,
“Sweep with resistless force these fanes away,
“By superstition rais'd and bought with death!
“Beneath their ruins crush each impious priest,
“Who reeling from th' unhallow'd feast,
“Presumes his guilty hands to raise
“In all the mockery of pray'r.
“Let thy whole race the father's bounties share,
“All earth thy temple, all our bliss thy praise.”
Thus Usbeck spoke. Now, Ma'am, you know
There's nothing easier than talking:
But you are soon fatigued with walking
If you keep talking as you go.
So that, as strange as it may seem,
It very naturally came to pass,
That Usbeck fell asleep upon the grass,
And then he dreamt, and this was Usbeck's dream.
There's nothing easier than talking:
But you are soon fatigued with walking
If you keep talking as you go.
So that, as strange as it may seem,
It very naturally came to pass,
29
And then he dreamt, and this was Usbeck's dream.
From the low turf that props his wearied head,
Far as his eye can stretch its dazzled sight,
He sees thin wavy clouds in columns spread,
While all th' horison glows with streams of light.
Slow breathes the gale, when to his ravish'd view
The opening clouds unnumber'd nymphs display,
Whose naked limbs, bath'd in celestial dew,
Soften with milder beams the blaze of day.
Smiling the wantons glide: no envious veil
Steals from his longing eye the feast it loves,
Save the soft air that floats on every gale,
And every whispering wishful sigh removes.
Far as his eye can stretch its dazzled sight,
He sees thin wavy clouds in columns spread,
While all th' horison glows with streams of light.
Slow breathes the gale, when to his ravish'd view
The opening clouds unnumber'd nymphs display,
Whose naked limbs, bath'd in celestial dew,
Soften with milder beams the blaze of day.
Smiling the wantons glide: no envious veil
Steals from his longing eye the feast it loves,
Save the soft air that floats on every gale,
And every whispering wishful sigh removes.
Long had he gaz'd;—when thro' the groaning sky
Fierce lightnings flash'd, and echoing from on high
A voice that shook all nature's frame
In thunder spoke—“Bless'd be Mohammed's name:”
“Bless'd be his name,”—th' angelic choirs reply.
At length the prophet's form appear'd;
Young saucy cupids fluttering round,
His brows with myrtle chaplets crown'd,
Or stroak'd his sacred beard.
Fierce lightnings flash'd, and echoing from on high
A voice that shook all nature's frame
In thunder spoke—“Bless'd be Mohammed's name:”
“Bless'd be his name,”—th' angelic choirs reply.
At length the prophet's form appear'd;
Young saucy cupids fluttering round,
His brows with myrtle chaplets crown'd,
Or stroak'd his sacred beard.
30
“Usbeck,” he cry'd, “thy doubts repress.
“All human kind, as well as you,
“The same dark, doubtful path pursue,
“Blunder through life, and walk by guess.
“Must he, whose first creative glance
“Call'd forth all nature from the womb of night,
“At each weak mortal's call advance,
“To purge the films that cloud his feeble sight?
“The God who lives through all this teeming globe,
“Attendant on each puny sect,
“Their wild unmeaning rites direct,
“Or chuse the colours of a Mufti's robe?
“All human kind, as well as you,
“The same dark, doubtful path pursue,
“Blunder through life, and walk by guess.
“Must he, whose first creative glance
“Call'd forth all nature from the womb of night,
“At each weak mortal's call advance,
“To purge the films that cloud his feeble sight?
“The God who lives through all this teeming globe,
“Attendant on each puny sect,
“Their wild unmeaning rites direct,
“Or chuse the colours of a Mufti's robe?
“'Tis true, from fiction's mystic cloud
“I rose to guide th' adoring croud,
“But, more than reason's boasted ties,
“My useful frauds their rage restrain;
“Then bear the dogmas you despise
“And learn to guide not break the rein;
“Go, Usbeck, at those altars bend,
“There vow by every sacred tie,
“To be thy God's, thy country's friend,
“The guardian of humanity;
“Wrench'd from the hand of furious zeal
“To justice give th' avenging steel;
“Let every crime thine anger fear,
“Let every sorrow claim thy tear;
“Let want her long-lost comforts know,
“Unseen the source from whence they flow.
“Behold the law by heaven impress'd,
“The code of every virtuous breast,
“'Tis nature's voice, 'tis true religion,
“'Tis Numa's and Mohammed's creed,
“From all their idle fables freed,
“Th' inspiring nymph, and whispering pigeon.
“I rose to guide th' adoring croud,
“But, more than reason's boasted ties,
“My useful frauds their rage restrain;
“Then bear the dogmas you despise
“And learn to guide not break the rein;
“Go, Usbeck, at those altars bend,
“There vow by every sacred tie,
“To be thy God's, thy country's friend,
“The guardian of humanity;
“Wrench'd from the hand of furious zeal
“To justice give th' avenging steel;
31
“Let every sorrow claim thy tear;
“Let want her long-lost comforts know,
“Unseen the source from whence they flow.
“Behold the law by heaven impress'd,
“The code of every virtuous breast,
“'Tis nature's voice, 'tis true religion,
“'Tis Numa's and Mohammed's creed,
“From all their idle fables freed,
“Th' inspiring nymph, and whispering pigeon.
“But free from each severer duty,
“Fear not through pleasure's paths to swerve,
“But in the smiles of yielding beauty,
“Receive the meed your toils deserve.
“The God who rears the vernal rose,
“Fram'd not in vain this sweeter flower;
“Then freely taste what he bestows,
“And by thy raptures speak his power.
“Voluptuous, but without excess,
“Know every joy that love supplies;
“In the spare cup of happiness
“Each drop is counted by the wise.
“Let Thought refining on delight,
“Let Fancy all her arts employ,
“And every feeling sense unite
“To fix the momentary joy.
“Thus, when thy soul to heaven shall rise,
“That love, which kindling in thy mind,
“Beam'd rays of comfort on mankind,
“Shall bless thee in thy native skies.
“To crown thy virtue's finish'd course,
“These Houris all their charms display,
“And joys, eternal as their source,
“Reward the merits of a day.”
“Fear not through pleasure's paths to swerve,
“But in the smiles of yielding beauty,
“Receive the meed your toils deserve.
“The God who rears the vernal rose,
“Fram'd not in vain this sweeter flower;
“Then freely taste what he bestows,
“And by thy raptures speak his power.
“Voluptuous, but without excess,
“Know every joy that love supplies;
“In the spare cup of happiness
“Each drop is counted by the wise.
“Let Thought refining on delight,
“Let Fancy all her arts employ,
32
“To fix the momentary joy.
“Thus, when thy soul to heaven shall rise,
“That love, which kindling in thy mind,
“Beam'd rays of comfort on mankind,
“Shall bless thee in thy native skies.
“To crown thy virtue's finish'd course,
“These Houris all their charms display,
“And joys, eternal as their source,
“Reward the merits of a day.”
Tho' the speech of the prophet was rather too long,
The old gentleman seem'd not so much in the wrong.
This Usbeck confess'd, when with sudden surprise,
In the arms of Selima he open'd his eyes.
The tender Selima, the slave whom he lov'd,
Who in search of her Lord through the forest had rov'd,
Requesting each echo that dwelt in the shade,
To protect a philosopher stolen or stray'd,
And from whom he receiv'd the reward of his labours,
After sleeping all night for the good of his neighbours.
Though the girl was no Houri, to mere sons of clay
Plain woman may prove as instructive as they,
So not misemploy'd were the moments he stole
While rehearsing the raptures design'd for his soul.
Henceforth, of impostors he ceas'd to complain,
For a fool more or less never troubled his brain,
Left the Priest with the Mufti to drink at their leisure,
And confess'd that true wisdom is center'd in pleasure.
The old gentleman seem'd not so much in the wrong.
This Usbeck confess'd, when with sudden surprise,
In the arms of Selima he open'd his eyes.
The tender Selima, the slave whom he lov'd,
Who in search of her Lord through the forest had rov'd,
Requesting each echo that dwelt in the shade,
To protect a philosopher stolen or stray'd,
And from whom he receiv'd the reward of his labours,
After sleeping all night for the good of his neighbours.
Though the girl was no Houri, to mere sons of clay
Plain woman may prove as instructive as they,
So not misemploy'd were the moments he stole
While rehearsing the raptures design'd for his soul.
33
For a fool more or less never troubled his brain,
Left the Priest with the Mufti to drink at their leisure,
And confess'd that true wisdom is center'd in pleasure.
THE FRIENDS.
Thomas and Ned were merry fellows,
Fellows of a superior mind,
Never squeamishly inclin'd,
Never splenetic or jealous,
But satisfied, when hardly press'd,
To lay their eggs in the same nest.
At length, a small dispute was bred
By these excessive condescensions,
At length a pullet shew'd her head
To which they had the same pretensions,
The pullet grew bigger and bigger,
Each claim'd the pullet as his own,
Disdain'd copartnership of vigour,
And Cæsar-like, would reign alone.
Fellows of a superior mind,
Never squeamishly inclin'd,
Never splenetic or jealous,
But satisfied, when hardly press'd,
To lay their eggs in the same nest.
At length, a small dispute was bred
By these excessive condescensions,
At length a pullet shew'd her head
To which they had the same pretensions,
The pullet grew bigger and bigger,
Each claim'd the pullet as his own,
Disdain'd copartnership of vigour,
And Cæsar-like, would reign alone.
34
This storm had scarcely spent its rage,
When it was follow'd by another;
'Twas when the pullet came of age,
To learn and labour like her mother:
'Tis true, she was a lovely chicken,
Like Cavendish, or Venus, fair,
Fit for any monarch's picking,
Fit for the tooth of my Lord Mayor.
Yet, 'twas a shocking sight to see
The conscript fathers disagree.
No longer anxious to instruct,
And to confirm her in her duty,
They quarrel'd for the usufruct
Of Miss's innocence and beauty.
But whether Tom, or Ned, or both,
Had the good luck their point to gain,
I'll take my oath,
I know no more than La Fontaine.
When it was follow'd by another;
'Twas when the pullet came of age,
To learn and labour like her mother:
'Tis true, she was a lovely chicken,
Like Cavendish, or Venus, fair,
Fit for any monarch's picking,
Fit for the tooth of my Lord Mayor.
Yet, 'twas a shocking sight to see
The conscript fathers disagree.
No longer anxious to instruct,
And to confirm her in her duty,
They quarrel'd for the usufruct
Of Miss's innocence and beauty.
But whether Tom, or Ned, or both,
Had the good luck their point to gain,
I'll take my oath,
I know no more than La Fontaine.
35
THE MUTUAL CONFESSION.
A TALE.
A certain Lord, by his physician,Was sent upon a visit to Old Nick,
Where he beheld his Coachman Dick
Dispatch'd upon the same commission.
“My Lord!—I hope your Lordship's well!—
“I'm charm'd to see so good a master:—
“But tell me, pray, what strange disaster
“Has brought you with such speed to hell?”
“You know, my friend,” the Peer reply'd,
“My spotless wife, as chaste as fair,
“Had crown'd my labours with an heir.
“Some wise intrigues and tricks I try'd,
36
‘But I unfortunately died,
“So now you see I'm sentenc'd to be fry'd.
“But you, my good old friend, whose grave
“Even I bedew'd with many a tear,
“So faithful, so attach'd a slave—
“Pray, what the devil brought you here?”
“Alas, my Lord!—that son of your's—God rot him!
“Your faithful slave is damn'd for having got him!”
37
THE POWER OF FAITH.
A TALE.
“A miracle! a miracle, my friends!”
(Th' enraptur'd Selim cry'd)
“Behold the raging tempest ends,
“Mohammed to my pray'r attends,
“And checks th' insulting tide.
“For while it thunder'd and it lighten'd,
“I turn'd to Mecca's seven-times sacred site,
“(I could not speak, I was so frighten'd)
“Our Prophet beaming through the gloom of night,
“Dispel'd at once the elemental strife,
“And deign'd to save his faithful servant's life.”
(Th' enraptur'd Selim cry'd)
“Behold the raging tempest ends,
“Mohammed to my pray'r attends,
“And checks th' insulting tide.
“For while it thunder'd and it lighten'd,
“I turn'd to Mecca's seven-times sacred site,
“(I could not speak, I was so frighten'd)
“Our Prophet beaming through the gloom of night,
“Dispel'd at once the elemental strife,
“And deign'd to save his faithful servant's life.”
38
“Is the man mad, or only drunk?”
(An old Egyptian screams)
“Believe me, friend, our bark had sunk,
“Spite of your Prophet and his beams;
“But thro' the storm, at my request,
“At once the mighty Apis came,
“Before these eyes he stood confess'd,
“With tail of fire and horns of flame.
“I saw him shake his awful brow,
“(All nature trembled at his nod)
“And hail'd with tears the mystic God,
“The heir apparent of a Cow!”
(An old Egyptian screams)
“Believe me, friend, our bark had sunk,
“Spite of your Prophet and his beams;
“But thro' the storm, at my request,
“At once the mighty Apis came,
“Before these eyes he stood confess'd,
“With tail of fire and horns of flame.
“I saw him shake his awful brow,
“(All nature trembled at his nod)
“And hail'd with tears the mystic God,
“The heir apparent of a Cow!”
‘Good folks,’ exclaim'd a Cherokee,
‘'Tis pity you should disagree.
‘Why so abusive in your speeches?
‘The real sage such language scorns.
‘Why can't you dress the Bull in breeches,
‘And deck the Prophet with his rival's horns?
‘Yet, Sirs, transform them as you please,
‘It will not much improve your creed:
‘If you would know who calm'd the seas,
‘Know 'twas my whip that did the deed.”—
“—Your whip, Sir!”—‘Yes.’—“Your most obedient!
“A very pleasant, safe expedient,
“A fairy, Sir, perhaps, or witch.”—
‘—Good Sirs, repress these impious sneers!
‘This whip, resounding on my breech,
‘Made the Great Hare prick up his mighty ears;
‘Squatting upon his radiant form,
‘He smil'd to see his bleeding slave,
‘And with his heav'nly paw dispers'd the storm,
‘And smooth'd the troubled wave.’
‘'Tis pity you should disagree.
‘Why so abusive in your speeches?
‘The real sage such language scorns.
‘Why can't you dress the Bull in breeches,
‘And deck the Prophet with his rival's horns?
‘Yet, Sirs, transform them as you please,
‘It will not much improve your creed:
‘If you would know who calm'd the seas,
‘Know 'twas my whip that did the deed.”—
“—Your whip, Sir!”—‘Yes.’—“Your most obedient!
“A very pleasant, safe expedient,
39
‘—Good Sirs, repress these impious sneers!
‘This whip, resounding on my breech,
‘Made the Great Hare prick up his mighty ears;
‘Squatting upon his radiant form,
‘He smil'd to see his bleeding slave,
‘And with his heav'nly paw dispers'd the storm,
‘And smooth'd the troubled wave.’
While thus they quarrel'd, and disputed,
Denied, asserted, and confuted,
A sage Chinese, who near them sate,
And listen'd to the whole debate,
Seizing a favourable pause,
Thus op'd his Asiatic jaws.
“Friends, you're so learned and so funny,
“That I could hear you talk all night;
“I'd bet the Captain any money,
“That all are vastly in the right.
“But yet, to set my mind at rest,
“Be pleas'd to grant me one request.
“I ask not, that your pow'rful pray'rs,
“Address'd to Prophets, Bulls, and Hares,
“Should dry the swelling ocean's source,
“Or check the whirlwind's rapid course,
“Or give to age the bloom of youth,
“Or make a traveller tell truth.—
“But since that pow'r we all respect,
“In forming you his perfect creatures,
“At first thought proper to neglect
“The usual complement of features;—
“This single proof I would propose—
“That all the three sit down together,
“To nature leave the winds and weather,
“And beg of heaven another inch of nose.”
Denied, asserted, and confuted,
A sage Chinese, who near them sate,
And listen'd to the whole debate,
Seizing a favourable pause,
Thus op'd his Asiatic jaws.
“Friends, you're so learned and so funny,
“That I could hear you talk all night;
“I'd bet the Captain any money,
“That all are vastly in the right.
“But yet, to set my mind at rest,
“Be pleas'd to grant me one request.
“I ask not, that your pow'rful pray'rs,
“Address'd to Prophets, Bulls, and Hares,
“Should dry the swelling ocean's source,
“Or check the whirlwind's rapid course,
40
“Or make a traveller tell truth.—
“But since that pow'r we all respect,
“In forming you his perfect creatures,
“At first thought proper to neglect
“The usual complement of features;—
“This single proof I would propose—
“That all the three sit down together,
“To nature leave the winds and weather,
“And beg of heaven another inch of nose.”
THE END.
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