The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge Including several pieces never before published: with an account of his life and character, by his son, George Owen Cambridge |
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A DIALOGUE
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 | The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge |  |
297
A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN A DISAPPOINTED CANDIDATE AND HIS FRIEND.
WHY in sorrow, my friend, who were always so gay?
Have you had any cross, any losses at play?
Whence arises this gloom, this uncommon dejection?
Are you jilted in love?
Candidate.
Have you had any cross, any losses at play?
Whence arises this gloom, this uncommon dejection?
Are you jilted in love?
I have lost my election.
On Sir Politic's family-interest I stood:
Five hundred, he swore they were steady and good—
Had faithfully promised, nay four had subscribed,
But the day of the poll ev'ry scoundrel was bribed.
Two months have I led this damn'd canvassing life,
Cajoling some rustic or speeching his wife.
Plagued, surfeited, poison'd, and harass'd, I'm grown,
Wan, meagre, dejected, and mere skin and bone.
This sure was enough, but at last to be beat—
Had this trouble and plague but procured me a seat.—
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Prithee sit thee down here, and these vanities end:
And be proud of a seat in the house of a friend:
Which no art can obtain and no brib'ry procure:
Which true worth, sense, and virtue, alone can insure.
Candidate.
But while virtue lies buried in mere speculation,
Who must act for the public, who care for the nation?
Tho' I pay due regard to the title of friend,
Yet the cares of a patriot must further extend;
To his country his present, his posthumous fame;
And 'tis bus'ness alone can ennoble his name.
Friend.
That true fame is the offspring of action 'tis granted,
But a thousand are busy for one that is wanted:
This business, we boast of, we daily create,
From an itch to be meddling, important and great.
But to polish our parts and our reason refine,
Each art is a jewel: each science a mine.
Candidate.
All arts when compared with the art to persuade,
Seem debased to some vile and mechanical trade:
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Or by reason averting some popular storm,
On the fortunes perhaps of a kingdom decide:
These, these are my wishes; this should be my pride.
So important a service, such merit, must bring
Applause from my country; reward from my King.
Friend.
Should the Minister's jealousy check your ambition,
What resource have you then?
Candidate.
What resource? Opposition.
In the House I'd harangue, in the Country declaim,
With my breath blow each popular spark to a flame.
I'd pursue the mean wretch to the brink of disgrace;
Unless duly appeased by some eminent place:
For no honours, no titles, no ribbands I'd have,
Let him deck with those trappings some indolent slave.
Friend.
And are there no charms but in place and employment?
No private delights, no domestic enjoyment?
Are the cares for your kindred, your parent, or race,
When compared with the public so sordid and base?
Love, friendship, philosophy, learning, and mirth,
Tho' despised, can they lose their intrinsical worth?
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Are all terms of contempt or at best out of fashion.
But tho' fame in this age is to bus'ness confined,
Retirement's the test of true greatness of mind.
Let reflection divert you from placing your joys
In vain ostentation, in hurry and noise;
Let the good and the virtuous your merits spread forth,
In the permanent tribute to personal worth.
| The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge | |