The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose ::

Stay your rude steps, or e'er your feet invade
The Muses' haunts, ye sons of War and Trade!
Nor you, ye legion fiends of Church and Law,
Pollute these pages with unhallow'd paw!
Debased, corrupted, grovelling, and confined,
No Definitions touch your senseless mind;
To you no Postulates prefer their claim,
No ardent Axioms your dull souls inflame;
For you, no Tangents touch, no Angles meet,
No Circles join in osculation sweet!

For me, ye Cissoids, round my temples bend
Your wandering curves; ye Conchoids extend;
Let playful Pendules quick vibration feel,
While silent Cyclois rests upon her wheel;
Let Hydrostatics, simpering as they go,
Lead the light Naiads on fantastic toe;
Let shrill Acoustics tune the tiny lyre;
With Euclid sage fair Algebra conspire;
The obedient pulley strong Mechanics ply,
And wanton Optics roll the melting eye!

I see the fair fantastic forms appear,
The flaunting drapery, and the languid leer;
Fair sylphish forms—who, tall, erect, and slim,
Dart the keen glance, and stretch the length of limb;
To viewless harpings weave the meanless dance,
Wave the gay wreath, and titter as they prance.

Such rich confusion charms the ravish'd sight,

When vernal Sabbaths to the Park invite.
Mounts the thick dust, the coaches crowd along,
Presses round Grosvenor Gate th'impatient throng;
White-muslined misses and mammas are seen,
Link'd with gay cockneys, glittering o'er the green:
The rising breeze unnumber'd charms displays,
And the tight ancle strikes th' astonished gaze.

But chief, thou Nurse of the Didactic Muse,
Divine Nonsensia, all thy soul infuse;
The charms of Secants and of Tangents tell,
How Loves and Graces in an Angle dwell;
How slow progressive Points protract the Line,
As pendent spiders spin the filmy twine;
How lengthen'd Lines, impetuous sweeping round,
Spread the wide Plane, and mark its circling bound;
How Planes, their substance with their motion grown,
Form the huge Cube, the Cylinder, the Cone.

Lo! where the chimney's sooty tube ascends,
The fair Trochais from the corner bends!
Her coal-black eyes upturn'd, incessant mark
The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark;
Dart her quick ken, where flashing in between,
Her much-loved Smoke-Jack glimmers thro' the scene;
Mark how his various parts together tend,
Point to one purpose,—in one object end;
The spiral grooves in smooth meanders flow,
Drags the long chain, the polish'd axles glow,
While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below:
The conscious fire with bickering radiance burns,
Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns.

So youthful Horner roll'd the roguish eye,
Cull'd the dark plum from out his Christmas pie,
And cried, in self-applause—“How good a boy am I.”

So, the sad victim of domestic spite,
Fair Cinderella, pass'd the wintry night,
In the lone chimney's darksome nook immured,
Her form disfigured, and her charms obscured.
Sudden her godmother appears in sight,
Lifts the charm'd rod, and chants the mystic rite;
The chanted rite the maid attentive hears,
And feels new ear-rings deck her listening ears;
While 'midst her towering tresses, aptly set,
Shines bright, with quivering glance, the smart aigrette;
Brocaded silks the splendid dress complete,
And the Glass Slipper grasps her fairy feet.
Six cock-tail'd mice transport her to the ball,
And livery'd lizards wait upon her call.

Frere.

Alas! that partial Science should approve
The sly Rectangle's too licentious love!
For three bright nymphs, &c. &c.

(To be continued.)

(Continued.)

April 23, 1798.

Alas! that partial Science should approve
The sly Rectangle's too licentious love!
For three bright nymphs the wily wizard burns;—
Three bright-eyed nymphs requite his flame by turns.
Strange force of magic skill! combined of yore
With Plato's science and Menecmus' lore.
In Afric's schools, amid those sultry sands
High on its base where Pompey's pillar stands,
This learnt the Seer; and learnt, alas! too well,
Each scribbled talisman, and smoky spell:
What mutter'd charms, what soul-subduing arts,
Fell Zatanai to his sons imparts.

Gins—black and huge! who in Dom-Daniel's cave
Writhe your scorch'd limbs on sulphur's azure-wave
Or, shivering, yell amidst eternal snows,
Where cloud-capp'd Caf protrudes his granite toes;
(Bound by his will, Judæa's fabled king,
Lord of Aladdin's lamp and mystic ring.)
Gins! ye remember!—for your toil convey'd
Whate'er of drugs the powerful charm could aid;
Air, earth, and sea ye search'd, and where below
Flame embryo lavas, young volcanoes glow,—
Gins! ye beheld appall'd th' enchanter's hand
Wave in dark, air th' Hypothenusal wand;
Saw him the mystic Circle trace, and wheel
With head erect, and far-extended heel;

Saw him, with speed that mock'd the dazzled eye,
Self-whirl'd, in quick gyrations eddying fly:
Till done the potent spell—behold him grown
Fair Venus' emblem—the Phœnician Cone.

Triumphs the Seer, and now secure observes
The kindling passions of the rival Curves.

And first, the fair Parabola behold,
Her timid arms, with virgin blush, unfold!
Though, on one focus fix'd, her eyes betray
A heart that glows with love's resistless sway,
Though, climbing oft, she strive with bolder grace
Round his tall neck to clasp her fond embrace,
Still ere she reach it, from his polish'd side
Her trembling hands in devious Tangents glide.

Not thus Hyperbola:—with subtlest art
The blue-eyed wanton plays her changeful part;
Quick as her conjugated axes move
Through every posture of luxurious love,
Her sportive limbs with easiest grace expand;
Her charms unveil'd provoke the lover's hand:
Unveil'd, except in many a filmy ray,
Where light Asymptotes o'er her bosom play,
Nor touch her glowing skin, nor intercept the day.

Yet why, Ellipsis, at thy fate repine?
More lasting bliss, securer joys are thine.
Though to each fair his treacherous wish may stray,
Though each, in turn, may seize a transient sway,
'Tis thine with mild coercion to restrain,
Twine round his struggling heart, and bind with endless chain.

Ellis.

Thus, happy France! in thy regenerate land,
Where Taste with Rapine saunters hand in hand;
Where, nursed in seats of innocence and bliss,
Reform greets Terror with fraternal kiss;
Where mild Philosophy first taught to scan
The wrongs of Providence, and rights of Man;
Where Memory broods o'er Freedom's earlier scene,
The Lantern bright, and brighter Guillotine;
Three gentle swains evolve their longing arms,
And woo the young Republic's virgin charms;
And though proud Barras with the fair succeed,
Though not in vain th' Attorney Rewbell plead,
Oft doth th' impartial nymph their love forego,
To clasp thy crooked shoulders, blest Lepaux!

So, with dark dirge athwart the blasted heath,
Th̄ree Sister Witches hail'd the appall'd Macbeth.

So, the Three Fates beneath grim Pluto's roof,
Strain the dun warp, and weave the murky woof;
Till deadly Atropos with fatal shears
Slits the thin promise of th' expected years,
While 'midst the dungeon's gloom or battle's din,
Ambition's victims perish, as they spin.

Thus, the Three Graces on the Idalian green
Bow with deft homage to Cythera's Queen;
Her polish'd arms with pearly bracelets deck,
Part her light locks, and bare her ivory neck;
Round her fair form ethereal odours throw,
And teach th' unconscious zephyrs where to blow;
Floats the thin gauze, and glittering as they play,
The bright folds flutter in phlogistic day.

So, with his daughters Three, th' unsceptred Lear
Heaved the loud sigh, and pour'd the glistering tear:
His daughters Three, save one alone, conspire
(Rich in his gifts) to spurn their generous sire;
Bid the rude storm his hoary tresses drench,
Stint the spare meal, the hundred knights retrench;
Mock his mad sorrow, and with alter'd mien
Renounce the daughter, and assert the queen.
A father's griefs his feeble frame convulse,
Rack his white head, and fire his feverous pulse;
Till kind Cordelia soothes his soul to rest,
And folds the parent-monarch to her breast.

Canning, Ellis, and Frere.

Thus some fair spinster grieves in wild affright,
Vex'd with dull megrim, or vertigo light;
Pleased round the fair Three dawdling doctors stand,
Wave the white wig, and stretch the asking hand,
State the grave doubt, the nauseous draught decree,
And all receive, though none deserve, a fee.
So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides
The Derby dilly, carrying Three Insides.
One in each corner sits, and lolls at ease,
With folded arms, propt back, and outstretch'd knees;
While the press'd Bodkin, punch'd and squeezed to death,
Sweats in the mid-most place, and scolds, and pants for breath.

(To be continued.)

May 7, 1798

EXTRACT.

Twas thine alone, O youth of giant frame,
Isosceles! that rebel heart to tame!
In vain coy Mathesis thy presence flies:
Still turn her fond hallucinating eyes;
Thrills with Galvanic fires each tortuous nerve,
Throb her blue veins, and dies her cold reserve.
—Yet strives the fair, till in the giant's breast
She sees the mutual passion flame confess'd:
Where'er he moves, she sees his tall limbs trace

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Internal Angles equal at the base;
Again she doubts him: but produced at will,
She sees th' external Angles equal still.

Say, blest Isosceles! what favouring power,
Or love, or chance, at night's auspicious hour,
While to the Asses'-Bridge entranced you stray'd,
Led to the Asses'-Bridge the enamour'd maid?—
The Asses'-Bridge, for ages doom'd to hear
The deafening surge assault his wooden ear,
With joy repeats sweet sounds of mutual bliss,
The soft susurrant sigh, and gently-murmuring kiss.

So thy dark arches, London Bridge, bestride
Indignant Thames, and part his angry tide,
There oft—returning from those green retreats,
Where fair Vauxhallia decks her sylvan seats;—
Where each spruce nymph, from city compters free,
Sips the froth'd syllabub, or fragrant tea;
While with sliced ham, scraped beef, and burnt champagne,
Her 'prentice lover soothes his amorous pain;
There oft, in well-trimm'd wherry, glide along
Smart beaux and giggling belles, a glittering throng:
Smells the tarr'd rope—with undulation fine
Flaps the loose sail—the silken awnings shine;
“Shoot we the bridge!” the venturous boatmen cry;
“Shoot we the bridge!” the exulting fare reply.
—Down the steep fall the headlong waters go,
Curls the white foam, the breakers roar below.
The veering helm the dexterous steersman stops,
Shifts the thin oars, the fluttering canvas drops;

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Then with closed eyes, clench'd hands, and quick-drawn breath,
Darts at the central arch, nor heeds the gulf beneath.
—Full 'gainst the pier the unsteady timbers knock,
The thin planks, starting, own the impetuous shock;
The shifted oar, dropp'd sail, and steadied helm,
With angry surge the closing waters whelm—
—Laughs the glad Thames, and clasps each fair one's charms,
That screams and scrambles in his oozy arms.
—Drench'd each thin garb, and clogg'd each struggling limb,
Far o'er the stream the Cocknies sink or swim;
While each badged boatman, clinging to his oar,
Bounds o'er the buoyant wave, and climbs the applauding shore.

So, towering Alp! from thy majestic ridge
Young Freedom gazed on Lodi's blood-stain'd Bridge;
Saw, in thick throngs, conflicting armies rush,
Ranks close on ranks, and squadrons squadrons crush;
Burst in bright radiance through the battle's storm,
Waved her broad hands, display'd her awful form;
Bade at her feet regenerate nations bow,
And twined the wreath round Buonaparte's brow.
—Quick with new lights, fresh hopes, and alter'd zeal,
The slaves of despots dropp'd the softened steel:
Exulting Victory crown'd her favourite child,
And freed Liguria clapp'd her hands, and smiled.

Nor long the time ere Britain's shores shall greet
The warrior-sage, with gratulation sweet:
Eager to grasp the wreath of naval fame,
The Great Republic plans the Floating Frame!
—O'er the huge frame gigantic Terror stalks,
And counts with joy the close-compacted balks:
Of young-eyed Massacres the Cherub crew,
Round their grim chief the mimic task pursue;

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Turn the stiff screw, apply the strengthening clamp,
Drive the long bolt, or fix the stubborn cramp,
Lash the reluctant beam, the cable splice,
Join the firm dove-tail with adjustment nice,
Through yawning fissures urge the willing wedge,
Or give the smoothing adze a sharper edge.
—Or group'd in fairy bands, with playful care,
The unconscious bullet to the furnace bear,
Or gaily tittering, tip the match with fire,
Prime the big mortar, bid the shell aspire;
Applaud, with tiny hands, and laughing eyes,
And watch the bright destruction as it flies.

Now the fierce forges gleam with angry glare—
The windmill waves his woven wings in air;
Swells the proud sail, the exulting streamers fly,
Their nimble fins unnumber'd paddles ply:
—Ye soft airs breathe, ye gentle billows waft,
And, fraught with Freedom, bear the expected Raft!
Perch'd on her back, behold the Patriot train,
Muir, Ashley, Barlow, Buonaparte, Paine!
While Rowan's hand directs the blood-empurpled rein.

Ye Imps of Murder! guard her angel form,
Check the rude surge, and chase the hovering storm;
Shield from contusive rocks her timber limbs,
And guide the sweet Enthusiast as she swims;

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—And now, with web-foot oars, she gains the land,
And foreign footsteps press the yielding sand:
—The Communes spread, the gay Departments smile,
Fair Freedom's Plant o'ershades the laughing isle:
Fired with new hopes, the exulting peasant sees
The Gallic streamer woo the British breeze;
While, pleased to watch its undulating charms,
The smiling infant spreads his little arms.

Ye Sylphs of Death! on demon pinions flit
Where the tall Guillotine is raised for Pitt:
To the poised plank tie fast the monster's back,
Close the nice slider, ope the expectant sack;
Then twitch, with fairy hands, the frolic pin—
Down falls the impatient axe with deafening din;
The liberated head rolls off below,
And simpering Freedom hails the happy blow!

Canning, Ellis, and Frere.

University of Virginia Library

CANTO I.

(Continued.)