The World As It Goes, A Poem By the Author of the Diaboliad [i.e. William Combe]. Dedicated to One of the Best Men in his Majesty's Dominions, &c. The Second Edition |
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 | The World As It Goes, A Poem |  |
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THE WORLD AS IT GOES:
A POEM.
There was a Time, a boyish, blushing Time,
When tender Feelings mingled with my Rhime,
And taught my Reed, in humble notes, to play
The Village-Song and simple Roundelay;
Or aid the Chorus of the rural Train,
Who sing the tranquil Pleasures of the Plain.
When tender Feelings mingled with my Rhime,
And taught my Reed, in humble notes, to play
The Village-Song and simple Roundelay;
Or aid the Chorus of the rural Train,
Who sing the tranquil Pleasures of the Plain.
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There was a Time, when, at the breaking dawn,
I trod the silver'd Verdure of the Lawn;
Or climb'd the craggy Mountain's lofty Brow,
To view the less'ning mists that float below;
Or sought the Thicket's Shade, to hear the tale
Of early songsters echo through the dale.
I trod the silver'd Verdure of the Lawn;
Or climb'd the craggy Mountain's lofty Brow,
To view the less'ning mists that float below;
Or sought the Thicket's Shade, to hear the tale
Of early songsters echo through the dale.
There was a Time, when, at the dusky hour
Of sober Eve, I sought the secret Bower,
Where Amaryllis had entwin'd the Rose,
And every other fragrant flow'r that blows,
To hallow, with their breath, the sacred Shade,
By Love's ingenious Arts, for Lovers made.
Of sober Eve, I sought the secret Bower,
Where Amaryllis had entwin'd the Rose,
And every other fragrant flow'r that blows,
To hallow, with their breath, the sacred Shade,
By Love's ingenious Arts, for Lovers made.
There was a Time, when, as the midnight-bell
Flung to the distant vale its hollow knell,
And Cynthia shone abroad, I lov'd to tread
The gloomy Mansions of the peaceful Dead,
While, to my cold and wat'ry cheek, I press'd
The sacred Urn where Friendship's Ashes rest.
Flung to the distant vale its hollow knell,
And Cynthia shone abroad, I lov'd to tread
The gloomy Mansions of the peaceful Dead,
While, to my cold and wat'ry cheek, I press'd
The sacred Urn where Friendship's Ashes rest.
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These Times are past!—these tender joys are o'er!—
They're past and gone, and will return no more!
New scenes succeed: by fond Ambition fir'd,
By the severer Muse, at length, inspir'd,
To her I yield my Reed, to her belong;—
'Tis she awakes and will direct my song!
They're past and gone, and will return no more!
New scenes succeed: by fond Ambition fir'd,
By the severer Muse, at length, inspir'd,
To her I yield my Reed, to her belong;—
'Tis she awakes and will direct my song!
'Twas in the month when Sirius' burning ray,
With scorching heat, inflames the sultry day,
That by a Riv'let's Side I careless laid
My languid limbs beneath the Willow's Shade;—
There gentle slumbers o'er my senses crept,
And solemn Visions hail'd me as I slept.
With scorching heat, inflames the sultry day,
That by a Riv'let's Side I careless laid
My languid limbs beneath the Willow's Shade;—
There gentle slumbers o'er my senses crept,
And solemn Visions hail'd me as I slept.
Methought there 'rose to my astonish'd sight
A Female Form, in awful splendor bright:
A flowing Robe of dusky hue she wore;
In her right hand an iron Harp she bore;
And from a Ribbon, o'er her shoulder flung,
A Scourge, with all its knotty lashes, hung.
A Female Form, in awful splendor bright:
A flowing Robe of dusky hue she wore;
In her right hand an iron Harp she bore;
And from a Ribbon, o'er her shoulder flung,
A Scourge, with all its knotty lashes, hung.
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Stern was her Visage, and her piercing Eye
With scrutinising ray seem'd made to pry
Deep in the Source whence human Actions flow,
Their Motives and their Origin to know;—
Could pierce the Veil of hypocritic Art,
And view the Vice that festers in the Heart.
With scrutinising ray seem'd made to pry
Deep in the Source whence human Actions flow,
Their Motives and their Origin to know;—
Could pierce the Veil of hypocritic Art,
And view the Vice that festers in the Heart.
“Begone!” she cried; “give o'er thy foolish trade,
“For low-born Swains and homely Shepherds made.
“Content no more to charm the Village-Throng,
“Exalt your strain, and dignify your song:
“Quit, quit the simple Reed; 'tis I inspire!”
She said, and gave the harshly-sounding Lyre.
I took the hallow'd gift, and strove to play;
But o'er the cords my erring fingers stray.
“What must I do,” I cried, “forbid to sing
“Of frozen Winter and the scented Spring;
“Of all the sweets which op'ning flow'rs disclose,
“The snowy Jasmin and the crimson Rose?
“To sing of higher themes in vain I try;
“These humble Plains no loftier themes supply.
“O Muse divine! assist my feeble strain,
“Or give me back my Shepherd's Reed again.
“Fool,” she replied, “incline thy willing ear;
“Observe my words and with attention hear.
“—Of all the various themes which Poets chuse,
“Of all the subjects which the wayward Muse
“Reveals to Bards, there is but one can give
“That lasting Fame which will for ever live.
“For low-born Swains and homely Shepherds made.
“Content no more to charm the Village-Throng,
“Exalt your strain, and dignify your song:
“Quit, quit the simple Reed; 'tis I inspire!”
She said, and gave the harshly-sounding Lyre.
I took the hallow'd gift, and strove to play;
But o'er the cords my erring fingers stray.
“What must I do,” I cried, “forbid to sing
“Of frozen Winter and the scented Spring;
“Of all the sweets which op'ning flow'rs disclose,
“The snowy Jasmin and the crimson Rose?
“To sing of higher themes in vain I try;
“These humble Plains no loftier themes supply.
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“Or give me back my Shepherd's Reed again.
“Fool,” she replied, “incline thy willing ear;
“Observe my words and with attention hear.
“—Of all the various themes which Poets chuse,
“Of all the subjects which the wayward Muse
“Reveals to Bards, there is but one can give
“That lasting Fame which will for ever live.
“Whate'er of Man th' observing eye can see,
“By Virtue rais'd, or sunk in Infamy;
“His cold Reserve, his unrestrain'd Excess,
“His sinking Grief or rampant Happiness;
“His rising Honour or approaching Shame,
“The vain Pursuit or just Contempt of Fame;
“His furious Love and unremitted Hate,
“His passing Life and unexpected Fate;—
“This is the theme which should the Muse employ,
“The Good to praise, the Wicked to destroy.
“Does outcast Virtue 'neath Oppression bow,—
“Tho' Kings oppose thee, crown her sacred brow:
“Does titled, frontless Vice exalt his horn,—
“Expose him to the pointing hand of Scorn.
“If the rank Letcher, by intemp'rance bred,
“Fouls the chaste honours of a Brother's bed;
“If sordid Avarice shall dare with-hold,
“From craving Want, his unavailing gold;
“If base and crafty Senators betray
“Their King and Country's dearest rights for pay;
“Th' indignant Muse, inflam'd with honest rage,
“Should mark them down on her eternal page,
“And, with her iron pen, inscribe their shame
“In the black annals of recording Fame.”
“By Virtue rais'd, or sunk in Infamy;
“His cold Reserve, his unrestrain'd Excess,
“His sinking Grief or rampant Happiness;
“His rising Honour or approaching Shame,
“The vain Pursuit or just Contempt of Fame;
“His furious Love and unremitted Hate,
“His passing Life and unexpected Fate;—
“This is the theme which should the Muse employ,
“The Good to praise, the Wicked to destroy.
“Does outcast Virtue 'neath Oppression bow,—
“Tho' Kings oppose thee, crown her sacred brow:
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“Expose him to the pointing hand of Scorn.
“If the rank Letcher, by intemp'rance bred,
“Fouls the chaste honours of a Brother's bed;
“If sordid Avarice shall dare with-hold,
“From craving Want, his unavailing gold;
“If base and crafty Senators betray
“Their King and Country's dearest rights for pay;
“Th' indignant Muse, inflam'd with honest rage,
“Should mark them down on her eternal page,
“And, with her iron pen, inscribe their shame
“In the black annals of recording Fame.”
—“But I, the meanest of the scribbling tribe,”—
“Peace!” she replied; “look round thee and describe!”
“Peace!” she replied; “look round thee and describe!”
I turn'd, and lo! a wide-extended plain,
Where barren Solitude had fix'd her reign:
Far as the eye could reach, no lively green,
Or spreading tree, or painted flower, was seen;
No murm'ring riv'let flow'd,—no gushing rill,
In silver streams, ran down the dusky hill;
Through the mid air no fowl was seen to wing,
No Dove was heard to coo, no bird to sing:
There, all alone, a solitary guest,
The shrieking Bittern built her secret nest:
No trace of human footsteps there appear'd,
But one poor low-roof'd Cottage that was rear'd
Against the naked crag,—whose pendant brow
Threaten'd destruction to the hut below.
Where barren Solitude had fix'd her reign:
Far as the eye could reach, no lively green,
Or spreading tree, or painted flower, was seen;
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In silver streams, ran down the dusky hill;
Through the mid air no fowl was seen to wing,
No Dove was heard to coo, no bird to sing:
There, all alone, a solitary guest,
The shrieking Bittern built her secret nest:
No trace of human footsteps there appear'd,
But one poor low-roof'd Cottage that was rear'd
Against the naked crag,—whose pendant brow
Threaten'd destruction to the hut below.
“There,” said the Muse, “from distant cities fled,
“Submissive Virtue hides her holy head,
“Well-pleas'd beneath that humble shed to live,
“And taste of joys that cities cannot give.
—“The taunts of prosp'rous Vice,—the look severe
“Of unrelenting Pride,—the early tear
“Of helpless Orphans, and the bursting sighs
“That in the Widow's tortur'd bosom rise,
“When stern Injustice riots in her dower;—
“Oppression's iron hand,—the gripe of Power;
“The noon-day Letch'ries, the Blasphemer's tongue,
“With impious tales and deadly curses hung;
“The poison'd Circes that, o'er paths of flowers,
“Tempt hapless Youth to their enchanted bowers;
“The Murd'rer's blood-stain'd knife, the lawless flame
“Of lewd Adultery that laughs at Shame;
“The roar of Faction,—the domestic Strife,
“And all the Ills that wait on public Life,—
“Drove shudd'ring Virtue to that humble cell
“Where Peace and patient Resignation dwell:
“Here she to Heaven breathes forth the constant prayer,—
“And the rare Pilgrim finds a blessing there.”
“Submissive Virtue hides her holy head,
“Well-pleas'd beneath that humble shed to live,
“And taste of joys that cities cannot give.
—“The taunts of prosp'rous Vice,—the look severe
“Of unrelenting Pride,—the early tear
“Of helpless Orphans, and the bursting sighs
“That in the Widow's tortur'd bosom rise,
“When stern Injustice riots in her dower;—
“Oppression's iron hand,—the gripe of Power;
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“With impious tales and deadly curses hung;
“The poison'd Circes that, o'er paths of flowers,
“Tempt hapless Youth to their enchanted bowers;
“The Murd'rer's blood-stain'd knife, the lawless flame
“Of lewd Adultery that laughs at Shame;
“The roar of Faction,—the domestic Strife,
“And all the Ills that wait on public Life,—
“Drove shudd'ring Virtue to that humble cell
“Where Peace and patient Resignation dwell:
“Here she to Heaven breathes forth the constant prayer,—
“And the rare Pilgrim finds a blessing there.”
Again I look'd,—the mournful scene was gone,
No darksome cloud obscur'd the golden Sun;—
All, all was gay, and, to my dazzled eyes,
Proud cities, with their gilded turrets, rise!
The deepen'd vallies teem with gushing rills,
The grazing herds hang down the verdant hills;
Each spreading tree the purple cluster bears,
And Nature pleas'd her gayest liv'ry wears.
Commerce, with spreading sails, exulting stood,
And menac'd, with its weight, the yielding flood:
The song of Pleasure floated in the air,
And trooping Nymphs her rosy feasts prepare.
No darksome cloud obscur'd the golden Sun;—
All, all was gay, and, to my dazzled eyes,
Proud cities, with their gilded turrets, rise!
The deepen'd vallies teem with gushing rills,
The grazing herds hang down the verdant hills;
Each spreading tree the purple cluster bears,
And Nature pleas'd her gayest liv'ry wears.
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And menac'd, with its weight, the yielding flood:
The song of Pleasure floated in the air,
And trooping Nymphs her rosy feasts prepare.
“Mid yonder tow'rs and these surrounding plains,
“Vice,” said the Muse, “in all her glory reigns:”
“There has she fix'd her dwelling, and prepares
“The gilded treach'ries and envenom'd snares,
“To catch unwary mortals, and controul
“Each great and noble feeling of the soul;
“And, with a more than Circe's fatal art,
“Pollutes the source of Virtue in the heart.”
“Vice,” said the Muse, “in all her glory reigns:”
“There has she fix'd her dwelling, and prepares
“The gilded treach'ries and envenom'd snares,
“To catch unwary mortals, and controul
“Each great and noble feeling of the soul;
“And, with a more than Circe's fatal art,
“Pollutes the source of Virtue in the heart.”
Again I turn'd mine eyes, but saw no more
What I beheld with such delight before.
The lofty hills the angry heav'ns deform,
And all their beauties sink beneath the storm;
In the fat pastures Lux'ry plans the feast,
And slaughters hecatombs to gorge a guest.
Beneath the spreading vine the Drunkard lay,
And foul Intemp'rance snor'd his hours away:
In frolic Pleasure's unsuspected bowers
The Serpent roll'd his poison'd train in flowers:
While Commerce, weeping, sat upon the strand,
The broken rudder in his trembling hand.
What I beheld with such delight before.
The lofty hills the angry heav'ns deform,
And all their beauties sink beneath the storm;
In the fat pastures Lux'ry plans the feast,
And slaughters hecatombs to gorge a guest.
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And foul Intemp'rance snor'd his hours away:
In frolic Pleasure's unsuspected bowers
The Serpent roll'd his poison'd train in flowers:
While Commerce, weeping, sat upon the strand,
The broken rudder in his trembling hand.
The forked Lightnings cleave the glitt'ring spires;
Through gilded palaces the raging Fires
Burst their impetuous way; the piercing Cry
Of ravish'd Innocence assaults the sky;
The streets grow red with streams of human Gore,
And crowded Prisons will contain no more;
Neglected Age weeps o'er the new-rais'd tomb,
And envies Youth its unexpected doom.
Through gilded palaces the raging Fires
Burst their impetuous way; the piercing Cry
Of ravish'd Innocence assaults the sky;
The streets grow red with streams of human Gore,
And crowded Prisons will contain no more;
Neglected Age weeps o'er the new-rais'd tomb,
And envies Youth its unexpected doom.
I could behold no more—“O Muse severe!”
I humbly said, “my fond petition hear!
“Far, far away these sights of Woe remove,
“And leave me in the Solitude I love;
“Leave me to mingle with the Sylvan Train,
“And give me back my Shepherd's Reed again.”
I humbly said, “my fond petition hear!
“Far, far away these sights of Woe remove,
“And leave me in the Solitude I love;
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“And give me back my Shepherd's Reed again.”
“Ah, silly Youth!” replied the Maid divine,
“To turn away thine ear from words like mine;
“To check that spirit which would thine inspire,
“And warm thy genius with poetic fire.
“Wilt thou refuse the verdant wreath of Fame
“And all the honours of a Poet's name?
“Expel these coward terrors from thy heart,
“In Virtue's cause employ the tuneful art;
“My shrill-ton'd harp shall aid thy honest rhymes,—
“Then take this biting scourge and lash the Times.”
“To turn away thine ear from words like mine;
“To check that spirit which would thine inspire,
“And warm thy genius with poetic fire.
“Wilt thou refuse the verdant wreath of Fame
“And all the honours of a Poet's name?
“Expel these coward terrors from thy heart,
“In Virtue's cause employ the tuneful art;
“My shrill-ton'd harp shall aid thy honest rhymes,—
“Then take this biting scourge and lash the Times.”
“But how shall Shepherd Swain, unknown to Strife,
“Born in the lowly Vale of tranquil life,
“How shall he sing aright or tune his lays,
“To tell of Men, their Manners, and their Ways,
“And all the Horrors of degen'rate days?”
—“To me” she said, “the duty shall belong,
“To give thee knowledge and instruct thy song.
“By my command, before thy wond'ring eyes,
“The varying pictures of the World shall rise;
“Its wants and misery, its vice and woe,—
“With all that it befits a Bard to know:—
“Truth shall the scene compose, and ev'ry part
“Beam new instruction to thy feeling heart.
—“Mark with attention; and, as in a glass,
“Behold the faithful visions as they pass.”
“Born in the lowly Vale of tranquil life,
“How shall he sing aright or tune his lays,
“To tell of Men, their Manners, and their Ways,
“And all the Horrors of degen'rate days?”
—“To me” she said, “the duty shall belong,
“To give thee knowledge and instruct thy song.
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“The varying pictures of the World shall rise;
“Its wants and misery, its vice and woe,—
“With all that it befits a Bard to know:—
“Truth shall the scene compose, and ev'ry part
“Beam new instruction to thy feeling heart.
—“Mark with attention; and, as in a glass,
“Behold the faithful visions as they pass.”
Deep in the shady bosom of a Wood,
Methought a large and antient Temple stood:
Upon the solid strength of Arches rear'd,
In rev'rend dignity the fane appear'd.
Around the dome luxuriant Ivy crawls
And deadly Serpents hiss within the walls:
In mould'ring sculpture croaking Ravens rest,
And Daws discordant find a secret nest:
Brambles and Weeds, with pois'nous blossoms crown'd,
Weave their rank tendrils and infest the ground;
While the surrounding growth of thicken'd Trees
Collects the vapour and obstructs the breeze.
—Its ancient Form remain'd;—but ev'ry Grace,
Which deck'd the building and adorn'd the place,
Had long been left to moulder and decay,
To Time's relentless fangs a yielding prey.
Imperfect characters of faded gold,
High in the front, its antient Goddess told.
Beside the gate, with broken sculpture grac'd,
'Mid storied urns, by cank'ring Age defac'd,
Orestes stood, in mutilated pride,
And Pylades was mould'ring by his side.
—There was a Time when ev'ry labour'd part
Bore the nice touches of ambitious Art:
When the rich altars blaz'd with sacred flame,
And Friendship was a dear and honour'd name:
When heart-sick Vot'ries, drooping with despair,
Found a sure refuge and asylum there;
Where, from oppression safe and worldly strife,
They pass'd in peace the closing years of life.
There injur'd Virtue turn'd its willing feet,
And found a welcome and secure retreat:
There the bold Youth, with love of arms inspir'd,
Felt his young soul with heighten'd ardor fir'd;
Preferr'd his pray'r, and, big with promis'd fame,
Sprung to the war and gain'd an Hero's name.
—But now no more on Friendship's altars blaze
Th' ascending flames;—no more the song of praise,
In grateful chauntings, echoes through the dome:—
Exil'd by Int'rest from her native home,
She wanders all forlorn; the daily sport
Of ev'ry Fool that cringes in a Court,
Of ev'ry Knave, and all the endless Train
Of those who sweat beneath the Lust of Gain.
—Among the Rich, the Noble, and the Great,
Who hears her cry,—who mourns her hapless fate?
To her deserted Temple who repair?
Portland alone demands admittance there.
Methought a large and antient Temple stood:
Upon the solid strength of Arches rear'd,
In rev'rend dignity the fane appear'd.
Around the dome luxuriant Ivy crawls
And deadly Serpents hiss within the walls:
In mould'ring sculpture croaking Ravens rest,
And Daws discordant find a secret nest:
Brambles and Weeds, with pois'nous blossoms crown'd,
Weave their rank tendrils and infest the ground;
While the surrounding growth of thicken'd Trees
Collects the vapour and obstructs the breeze.
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Which deck'd the building and adorn'd the place,
Had long been left to moulder and decay,
To Time's relentless fangs a yielding prey.
Imperfect characters of faded gold,
High in the front, its antient Goddess told.
Beside the gate, with broken sculpture grac'd,
'Mid storied urns, by cank'ring Age defac'd,
Orestes stood, in mutilated pride,
And Pylades was mould'ring by his side.
—There was a Time when ev'ry labour'd part
Bore the nice touches of ambitious Art:
When the rich altars blaz'd with sacred flame,
And Friendship was a dear and honour'd name:
When heart-sick Vot'ries, drooping with despair,
Found a sure refuge and asylum there;
Where, from oppression safe and worldly strife,
They pass'd in peace the closing years of life.
There injur'd Virtue turn'd its willing feet,
And found a welcome and secure retreat:
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Felt his young soul with heighten'd ardor fir'd;
Preferr'd his pray'r, and, big with promis'd fame,
Sprung to the war and gain'd an Hero's name.
—But now no more on Friendship's altars blaze
Th' ascending flames;—no more the song of praise,
In grateful chauntings, echoes through the dome:—
Exil'd by Int'rest from her native home,
She wanders all forlorn; the daily sport
Of ev'ry Fool that cringes in a Court,
Of ev'ry Knave, and all the endless Train
Of those who sweat beneath the Lust of Gain.
—Among the Rich, the Noble, and the Great,
Who hears her cry,—who mourns her hapless fate?
To her deserted Temple who repair?
Portland alone demands admittance there.
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Another scene appears—new Temples rise,
Whose gilded pinnacles assault the skies.
High in the midst, and on a splendid throne,
Where ev'ry gay and solid trapping shone,
Self-Int'rest sat,—an execrable form,
And, with a scowling eye, beheld the swarm
Of crowding Vot'ries eager to address
The sordid Monarch of their happiness.
Stars, Ribbands, Purses, Wands, in order strung,
Like Beadsman's rosaries, around him hung:
Patents and Sleeves of holy Lawn were seen,
With the sage Hoods of snowy Ermeline,
And ev'ry other foolish, glitt'ring toy,
That charms the infant man or hoary boy.
—A polish'd Magnet grac'd each grasping hand,
The wond'rous engines of his high command,
Which, with repulsive or attracting art,
Could drive the life-blood onward to the heart,
Or check the streams which vital warmth supply,
And leave the ruddy cistern cold and dry.
These as he turn'd with well-directed skill,
He won the pliant Vot'ry to his will;
Urg'd ev'ry sordid impulse,—but repress'd
Each gen'rous purpose of the human breast;
Chill'd Patriot Love, and, with magnetic art,
Perverted all the feelings of the heart.
Whose gilded pinnacles assault the skies.
High in the midst, and on a splendid throne,
Where ev'ry gay and solid trapping shone,
Self-Int'rest sat,—an execrable form,
And, with a scowling eye, beheld the swarm
Of crowding Vot'ries eager to address
The sordid Monarch of their happiness.
Stars, Ribbands, Purses, Wands, in order strung,
Like Beadsman's rosaries, around him hung:
Patents and Sleeves of holy Lawn were seen,
With the sage Hoods of snowy Ermeline,
And ev'ry other foolish, glitt'ring toy,
That charms the infant man or hoary boy.
—A polish'd Magnet grac'd each grasping hand,
The wond'rous engines of his high command,
Which, with repulsive or attracting art,
Could drive the life-blood onward to the heart,
Or check the streams which vital warmth supply,
And leave the ruddy cistern cold and dry.
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He won the pliant Vot'ry to his will;
Urg'd ev'ry sordid impulse,—but repress'd
Each gen'rous purpose of the human breast;
Chill'd Patriot Love, and, with magnetic art,
Perverted all the feelings of the heart.
There S------ ask'd for Pow'r, despising Fame,
And all the glories of an honest name.
The good Sir P--------- impatient stood,
And sought to quench his thirst in K------'s Blood.
M------, the tool of ministerial power,
A Conscience ask'd for one important hour,
And, when the big, important hour was o'er,
Never to goad his callous bosom more.
The Sawney W--------- in silence steals,
And seeks in vain a Peerage and the Seals.
H------, in all the City honours clad,
Demands a wealthy Heir, a sprightly lad,
In the mid-way 'twixt twelve and twenty-one,
With ev'ry forward wish to be undone,—
To whom a few cool Thousands might be lent
At the small gain of only Cent. per Cent.
B------p, with sneaking, conscious visage, bow'd,
The least and meanest of the bending Croud,
And claim'd of future Wives a precious Store,
Whene'er his present Dear should be no more .
—Contracting H------ sought to steal the Bread
With which the starving Soldier should be fed.
—Lank G------r ask'd his Patron God to give
Some strength'ning Balm,—that he might whore and live.
—Rigby requests some Ten Years more of Life,
And bawdy B--------- a golden Wife.
H------d implor'd, or he should be undone,
Some Sinecure to cloath a younger Son;
While his good Dame or said or seem'd to say,
Betty's unmarried yet,—an Husband, pray.—
Large troops of hungry Scotsmen bow'd the knee
To crave Diplomas for their Treachery,—
And ask'd, with suppliant voice, the blessed fate
To suck the Vitals of the Land they hate.
—Miss crav'd a Lover,—batter'd Beaux a Wife,
And crouds of Husbands ask'd a quiet Life.
—Young, greedy Heirs, who grudge the very breath
Their Fathers draw, demand their instant Death.
—The prostrate Delia, with uplifted hands
And eyes suffus'd in briny tears, demands,
To ease those longings she can scarce endure,
That Florio may receive a speedy Cure .
For Bridges Mylne applied on bended knee,
And modest Adams crav'd a Lottery .
—Council demanded Briefs, and for a Cause
Attornies brawl'd, those Leeches of the Laws;
While pillag'd Clients 'fore the Sov'reign fall,
And humbly sue to have no Laws at all.
And all the glories of an honest name.
The good Sir P--------- impatient stood,
And sought to quench his thirst in K------'s Blood.
M------, the tool of ministerial power,
A Conscience ask'd for one important hour,
And, when the big, important hour was o'er,
Never to goad his callous bosom more.
The Sawney W--------- in silence steals,
And seeks in vain a Peerage and the Seals.
H------, in all the City honours clad,
Demands a wealthy Heir, a sprightly lad,
In the mid-way 'twixt twelve and twenty-one,
With ev'ry forward wish to be undone,—
17
At the small gain of only Cent. per Cent.
B------p, with sneaking, conscious visage, bow'd,
The least and meanest of the bending Croud,
And claim'd of future Wives a precious Store,
Whene'er his present Dear should be no more .
—Contracting H------ sought to steal the Bread
With which the starving Soldier should be fed.
—Lank G------r ask'd his Patron God to give
Some strength'ning Balm,—that he might whore and live.
—Rigby requests some Ten Years more of Life,
And bawdy B--------- a golden Wife.
H------d implor'd, or he should be undone,
Some Sinecure to cloath a younger Son;
While his good Dame or said or seem'd to say,
Betty's unmarried yet,—an Husband, pray.—
18
To crave Diplomas for their Treachery,—
And ask'd, with suppliant voice, the blessed fate
To suck the Vitals of the Land they hate.
—Miss crav'd a Lover,—batter'd Beaux a Wife,
And crouds of Husbands ask'd a quiet Life.
—Young, greedy Heirs, who grudge the very breath
Their Fathers draw, demand their instant Death.
—The prostrate Delia, with uplifted hands
And eyes suffus'd in briny tears, demands,
To ease those longings she can scarce endure,
That Florio may receive a speedy Cure .
For Bridges Mylne applied on bended knee,
And modest Adams crav'd a Lottery .
19
Attornies brawl'd, those Leeches of the Laws;
While pillag'd Clients 'fore the Sov'reign fall,
And humbly sue to have no Laws at all.
Thus, as I look'd, the Vision sunk away,
And other Phantoms o'er my fancy play.
—Methought, in one short moment there arose
A rugged Den, whose threat'ning jaws disclose
Such loathsome Shapes, so horrid to the sight,
That all my nerves were stiffen'd with affright.
No monstrous Shapes, that, erring from her plan,
Nature brings forth to be the Scourge of Man,—
No pois'nous Reptile, whose envenom'd bane
Can stop the Life-blood coursing through the vein,
And bring on instant Death, but there were seen,—
The blue, the grey, the speckled, and the green.
—No stupefying Leaf,—no deadly Flower,
Planted by Fate for Man's despairing hour,
But, with an intermingled foliage, wave
Their baneful tendrils round the dismal Cave.
—Beneath the shaggy Arch, in loathsome state,
The lustful Regent of the Dungeon sate.
A form less pleasing eyes could never see
Than this foul semblance of Adultery.
Enchanting smiles adorn'd her ruddy face
With ev'ry winning charm and soften'd grace;
Long yellow tresses on her bosom play'd,
Whose heaving orbs the inward flame betray'd:
Beneath her waist a ruder shape appears,
Her lower form a shaggy cov'ring wears;—
Around her feet, hard, cloven sandals grow,—
Above a Woman, and a Goat below.
—Upon a couch of matted reeds she lay,
And, in rude dalliance, pass'd the time away:
To brutal joys she woo'd each beastly shape,
The sturdy Stallion, and luxurious Ape;
And, in exhaustless vigor, play'd the Whore
With the smooth Panther and the bristly Boar.
And other Phantoms o'er my fancy play.
—Methought, in one short moment there arose
A rugged Den, whose threat'ning jaws disclose
Such loathsome Shapes, so horrid to the sight,
That all my nerves were stiffen'd with affright.
No monstrous Shapes, that, erring from her plan,
Nature brings forth to be the Scourge of Man,—
No pois'nous Reptile, whose envenom'd bane
Can stop the Life-blood coursing through the vein,
And bring on instant Death, but there were seen,—
The blue, the grey, the speckled, and the green.
20
Planted by Fate for Man's despairing hour,
But, with an intermingled foliage, wave
Their baneful tendrils round the dismal Cave.
—Beneath the shaggy Arch, in loathsome state,
The lustful Regent of the Dungeon sate.
A form less pleasing eyes could never see
Than this foul semblance of Adultery.
Enchanting smiles adorn'd her ruddy face
With ev'ry winning charm and soften'd grace;
Long yellow tresses on her bosom play'd,
Whose heaving orbs the inward flame betray'd:
Beneath her waist a ruder shape appears,
Her lower form a shaggy cov'ring wears;—
Around her feet, hard, cloven sandals grow,—
Above a Woman, and a Goat below.
—Upon a couch of matted reeds she lay,
And, in rude dalliance, pass'd the time away:
To brutal joys she woo'd each beastly shape,
The sturdy Stallion, and luxurious Ape;
21
With the smooth Panther and the bristly Boar.
But now I saw, and trembled to behold,
The Young, the Lively, the Deform'd, and Old,
Both high and low, of every degree,
Pay their low Homage to Adultery.
—There W------ stood, who, by lewd Passion led,
Defil'd the Honours of her Husband's Bed:
Not in that age when infant Love inspires,
And am'rous sighs awaken am'rous fires;
When, warm'd by Nature, should th' impatient Bride
Find a cold, nerveless Statue by her side,
Whose ineffectual strength, Oh sad to tell!
Serves but to 'wake the flame it cannot quell;—
Should she, unhapp'ly, in Life's genial May,
From rigid Virtue be provok'd to stray,
Justice will almost weep o'er its decree,
And pitying Sorrow calm her misery;
Repentance will declare her sins forgiven,
And mild Religion ope the promis'd Heaven.
—But W------, many an Year a wedded Dame,
Deserts her gen'rous Lord, her honest Fame;
And, lost to Feeling, to all Honour blind,
Her young and lovely Offspring left behind,—
Left them, in lawless Love, her Lust to blend
With the shrewd Letcher and the faithless Friend.
Before the Cave she stood, and, frantic, tore
The saffron mantle she no longer wore;—
Then on a bank her homely length she laid,
Beneath a pension'd Scotchman's filthy plaid.
The Young, the Lively, the Deform'd, and Old,
Both high and low, of every degree,
Pay their low Homage to Adultery.
—There W------ stood, who, by lewd Passion led,
Defil'd the Honours of her Husband's Bed:
Not in that age when infant Love inspires,
And am'rous sighs awaken am'rous fires;
When, warm'd by Nature, should th' impatient Bride
Find a cold, nerveless Statue by her side,
Whose ineffectual strength, Oh sad to tell!
Serves but to 'wake the flame it cannot quell;—
Should she, unhapp'ly, in Life's genial May,
From rigid Virtue be provok'd to stray,
Justice will almost weep o'er its decree,
And pitying Sorrow calm her misery;
Repentance will declare her sins forgiven,
And mild Religion ope the promis'd Heaven.
22
Deserts her gen'rous Lord, her honest Fame;
And, lost to Feeling, to all Honour blind,
Her young and lovely Offspring left behind,—
Left them, in lawless Love, her Lust to blend
With the shrewd Letcher and the faithless Friend.
Before the Cave she stood, and, frantic, tore
The saffron mantle she no longer wore;—
Then on a bank her homely length she laid,
Beneath a pension'd Scotchman's filthy plaid.
Ill-fated Sarah! next thy form I view'd,
Thy swolen cheeks with gushing tears bedew'd:
Lost were thy cherub smiles and winning grace
In the pale sadness of thy bloated face!
Methought I saw Repentance by thy side,
Who kindly ask'd to be thy pensive guide,
And bid thee to her secret cell repair
To find a refuge and asylum there.
Thy swolen cheeks with gushing tears bedew'd:
Lost were thy cherub smiles and winning grace
In the pale sadness of thy bloated face!
Methought I saw Repentance by thy side,
Who kindly ask'd to be thy pensive guide,
And bid thee to her secret cell repair
To find a refuge and asylum there.
23
Now D------ and her Paramour advance,
And beat the rugged ground in am'rous Dance.
Sprightly she seem'd, as unconcern'd and gay
As the blythe Nymph that dances to the May.
From pendant boughs she pluck'd th' oblivious Fruit,
She eat, and sunk at once into a Brute;
At once forgot the days of Virtue past,—
Those happy days that were not made to last;—
At once forgot a Mother's tender care,
And ev'ry charm that makes a Woman fair:—
Chang'd was her airy form, and she was seen
The perfect Image of her beastly Queen.
—C--------- next approach'd the lustful band;
Stern was her shameless brow, and, in her hand,
With careless air a Parchment Scroll she bore,
Rich with the painted honours, which, of yore,
Her brave, illustrious Ancestry had won,
And through full many an age, from sire to son,
Had been, with added fame, maintain'd, till she,
The latest scion of this goodly tree,
Their Deeds of Honour clos'd with Guilt and Infamy.
With scornful look the Record she unroll'd,
That show'd Emblazonments enrich'd with Gold;
But, as the Parchment felt the cank'rous Air,
A Blank appear'd, nor was a Colour there.
And beat the rugged ground in am'rous Dance.
Sprightly she seem'd, as unconcern'd and gay
As the blythe Nymph that dances to the May.
From pendant boughs she pluck'd th' oblivious Fruit,
She eat, and sunk at once into a Brute;
At once forgot the days of Virtue past,—
Those happy days that were not made to last;—
At once forgot a Mother's tender care,
And ev'ry charm that makes a Woman fair:—
Chang'd was her airy form, and she was seen
The perfect Image of her beastly Queen.
—C--------- next approach'd the lustful band;
Stern was her shameless brow, and, in her hand,
With careless air a Parchment Scroll she bore,
Rich with the painted honours, which, of yore,
Her brave, illustrious Ancestry had won,
And through full many an age, from sire to son,
Had been, with added fame, maintain'd, till she,
The latest scion of this goodly tree,
Their Deeds of Honour clos'd with Guilt and Infamy.
24
That show'd Emblazonments enrich'd with Gold;
But, as the Parchment felt the cank'rous Air,
A Blank appear'd, nor was a Colour there.
Now P------y came, conducted by a Priest,
With fair T---------l, to the sinful Feast:
And, from the Stable-Yard, a well-known Pair
With ardent eyes beheld the pastimes there.
Upon his head the branching Horns appear'd,
Which ev'ry moment some new antler rear'd;
And, on her brow, 'twas curious to behold
Horns of a smaller size, and tipt with gold.
—Hymen, with fearful eyes and sadden'd mien,
View'd, in despair, the desolating Scene;
Then wav'd his languid Torch, afraid to stay,
And stretch'd his eager wings and fled away.
With fair T---------l, to the sinful Feast:
And, from the Stable-Yard, a well-known Pair
With ardent eyes beheld the pastimes there.
Upon his head the branching Horns appear'd,
Which ev'ry moment some new antler rear'd;
And, on her brow, 'twas curious to behold
Horns of a smaller size, and tipt with gold.
—Hymen, with fearful eyes and sadden'd mien,
View'd, in despair, the desolating Scene;
Then wav'd his languid Torch, afraid to stay,
And stretch'd his eager wings and fled away.
Why mourns the frantic World?—What solemn Show
Of deep Distress, and ceremonious Woe,
Surrounds that tomb, 'mid bending willows plac'd,
And with full many a weeping Cherub grac'd?
Is Liberty no more?—Is Virtue fled?—
The chaunted Dirges answer—Price is dead!
Laugh, Whim, and Joke, and Merriment are o'er,
The chaunted Dirge repeats—Chase is no more!
He's gone, the Fav'rite of the jovial Train,
And we shall never see his like again.
—Humour with Melancholy, silent Maid,
Walk'd, arm in arm, beneath the Cypress shade.
Mirth sought the secret dale, in gloomy pride,
And Wit and Dulness saunter'd side by side.
Dejected Comus broke his wand in twain,
Then wept, and with him wept his frolic Train.
—Around his tomb there troop'd the venal Fair,
And hung the price of Prostitution there.
He sung their various praise, and, in return,
They weave their dirty garters round his urn.
—But diff'rent Sorrows diff'rent Hearts controul'd;
Some mourn'd their jovial Friend, and some their Gold.
P------ look'd grave, and Thanet hung his head,
And Cousin Bathurst's face was doubly red.
The weeping Christie let his hammer fall,
And turn'd and look'd at Brother Tattersall.
—Bands of Choice Spirits all distracted roam,
And hiccup out their griefs and stagger home.
Pimps, Bawds, and Waiters, all his loss deplore;—
Again, in chorus, howl—Price is no more !
Of deep Distress, and ceremonious Woe,
25
And with full many a weeping Cherub grac'd?
Is Liberty no more?—Is Virtue fled?—
The chaunted Dirges answer—Price is dead!
Laugh, Whim, and Joke, and Merriment are o'er,
The chaunted Dirge repeats—Chase is no more!
He's gone, the Fav'rite of the jovial Train,
And we shall never see his like again.
—Humour with Melancholy, silent Maid,
Walk'd, arm in arm, beneath the Cypress shade.
Mirth sought the secret dale, in gloomy pride,
And Wit and Dulness saunter'd side by side.
Dejected Comus broke his wand in twain,
Then wept, and with him wept his frolic Train.
—Around his tomb there troop'd the venal Fair,
And hung the price of Prostitution there.
He sung their various praise, and, in return,
They weave their dirty garters round his urn.
—But diff'rent Sorrows diff'rent Hearts controul'd;
Some mourn'd their jovial Friend, and some their Gold.
26
And Cousin Bathurst's face was doubly red.
The weeping Christie let his hammer fall,
And turn'd and look'd at Brother Tattersall.
—Bands of Choice Spirits all distracted roam,
And hiccup out their griefs and stagger home.
Pimps, Bawds, and Waiters, all his loss deplore;—
Again, in chorus, howl—Price is no more !
27
Another Scene now greets my searching Eyes;—
Methought I saw a spacious Building rise:
Upon a Rock of Adamant it stood,
And proudly overlook'd the foaming Flood.
High, on the strength of mighty columns rear'd,
Its awful and unshaken Dome appear'd:
A simple grandeur reign'd in ev'ry part,
Untinsel'd by the glare of modern Art.
Close by its side a verdant Oak out-spread
Its knotty branches o'er fair Freedom's head.
In pensive attitude she lay reclin'd,
And gave her rising sorrows to the wind:
Then grasp'd her vengeful spear, and call'd in vain
For speedy succour o'er the troubled Main;
And heav'd her eyes to Heav'n as in despair,
To call, nor see her faithful Keppel there.
Methought I saw a spacious Building rise:
Upon a Rock of Adamant it stood,
And proudly overlook'd the foaming Flood.
High, on the strength of mighty columns rear'd,
Its awful and unshaken Dome appear'd:
A simple grandeur reign'd in ev'ry part,
Untinsel'd by the glare of modern Art.
Close by its side a verdant Oak out-spread
Its knotty branches o'er fair Freedom's head.
In pensive attitude she lay reclin'd,
And gave her rising sorrows to the wind:
Then grasp'd her vengeful spear, and call'd in vain
For speedy succour o'er the troubled Main;
And heav'd her eyes to Heav'n as in despair,
To call, nor see her faithful Keppel there.
28
Beneath the Rock, within a gloomy Cave,
That echo'd back the hoarse-resounding wave,
Where Sun could never beam its cheering day,
And only open to the Muse's ray,
Three mortal Figures sat in deep debate
On secret acts and mysteries of state.
—The first in robe of silken Plaid was drest;
A leathern Girdle bound the motley vest,
And form'd a Scabbard, where, in secret laid,
The treach'rous Dirk dispos'd its thirsty blade:
A purple Bonnet on his head he wore,
Which, as a Plume, a spiteful Thistle bore:
Upon his breast a Rose of pallid hue,
Fair as when on the thorny stalk it grew,
Safe in some northern vale,—its honours spread,
Nor dropt its leaf, nor hung its rebel head.
—Before him stood a Cross, that gracious sign
Of pard'ning Mercy, and of Love Divine,
But oft perverted, in degen'rate Times,
To shield the Villain, and to hallow Crimes:
This he approach'd and kiss'd, with pious air,
Then bent him low, and mutter'd forth a prayer.
That echo'd back the hoarse-resounding wave,
Where Sun could never beam its cheering day,
And only open to the Muse's ray,
Three mortal Figures sat in deep debate
On secret acts and mysteries of state.
—The first in robe of silken Plaid was drest;
A leathern Girdle bound the motley vest,
And form'd a Scabbard, where, in secret laid,
The treach'rous Dirk dispos'd its thirsty blade:
A purple Bonnet on his head he wore,
Which, as a Plume, a spiteful Thistle bore:
Upon his breast a Rose of pallid hue,
Fair as when on the thorny stalk it grew,
Safe in some northern vale,—its honours spread,
Nor dropt its leaf, nor hung its rebel head.
—Before him stood a Cross, that gracious sign
Of pard'ning Mercy, and of Love Divine,
But oft perverted, in degen'rate Times,
To shield the Villain, and to hallow Crimes:
29
Then bent him low, and mutter'd forth a prayer.
The next, a rev'rend Form, in black array'd,
Who trampled on the Laws himself had made.
From his keen Eye the liquid Lightnings dart,
But Treachery lay hid within his Heart.
Before him was a Scroll, which, when unroll'd,
Beam'd with the Names of many a Baron bold,
Who made their King low bend his haughty knee
Before the sacred shrine of Liberty.
—This Charter, by the will of Heav'n, design'd
The lawless sway of Tyrant Crowns to bind,
With patient labour and perverting skill,
He blotted, chang'd, and modell'd to his will.
—Beside him, Slav'ry, of its bondage vain,
Kiss'd the rough cords, and shook the pond'rous chain.
Who trampled on the Laws himself had made.
From his keen Eye the liquid Lightnings dart,
But Treachery lay hid within his Heart.
Before him was a Scroll, which, when unroll'd,
Beam'd with the Names of many a Baron bold,
Who made their King low bend his haughty knee
Before the sacred shrine of Liberty.
—This Charter, by the will of Heav'n, design'd
The lawless sway of Tyrant Crowns to bind,
With patient labour and perverting skill,
He blotted, chang'd, and modell'd to his will.
—Beside him, Slav'ry, of its bondage vain,
Kiss'd the rough cords, and shook the pond'rous chain.
The third a Boy appear'd of tender age,
Whom childish Sports and gilded Toys engage.
Altho' a Child, he like a Man was dress'd
In velvet mantle and in ermin'd vest.
His baby-hand a golden Sceptre bore,
And on his brow a tott'ring Crown he wore.
Changeful he seem'd, and laugh'd and cry'd by turns;
Now sullen sits, and now with fury burns:
For other toys his watchful Guardian teaz'd,
With the new bawbles for a moment pleas'd;
Then threw them at his feet, and, with disdain,
Demands to leave the Cave, and calls his train—
When, strait, the stern Protector, from his vest,
Drew forth a Scourge, and thus the Boy address'd:
“Behold this dreadful Symbol of Command,
“To me entrusted by thy Mother's hand!
“Weav'd by her cunning art, and well design'd
“To rule thy tetchy mood and stubborn mind.”
Deep sunk the threats into the Urchin's breast,
Who moan'd, and sobb'd, and cry'd himself to rest.
Whom childish Sports and gilded Toys engage.
30
In velvet mantle and in ermin'd vest.
His baby-hand a golden Sceptre bore,
And on his brow a tott'ring Crown he wore.
Changeful he seem'd, and laugh'd and cry'd by turns;
Now sullen sits, and now with fury burns:
For other toys his watchful Guardian teaz'd,
With the new bawbles for a moment pleas'd;
Then threw them at his feet, and, with disdain,
Demands to leave the Cave, and calls his train—
When, strait, the stern Protector, from his vest,
Drew forth a Scourge, and thus the Boy address'd:
“Behold this dreadful Symbol of Command,
“To me entrusted by thy Mother's hand!
“Weav'd by her cunning art, and well design'd
“To rule thy tetchy mood and stubborn mind.”
Deep sunk the threats into the Urchin's breast,
Who moan'd, and sobb'd, and cry'd himself to rest.
And now, methought, within the dismal Cell,
The deep-leagu'd Statesmen form'd the magic spell:
When, from some secret corner of the Cave,
Mischief came forth with many a sturdy slave:
These gave the pond'rous hammer force, and those
The piercing chissel's subtle art oppose
To the hard stone, and, in strict union, join
To form beneath the Rock the treach'rous Mine.
Soon was the work perform'd; for magic Skill,
With hellish haste, obeys its Master's will.
That done, the ready Ministers prepare,
With direful art, and deep-designing care,
The fiery seeds which burning mountains yield,
And in Hell's sulph'rous caverns lie conceal'd;
With moulding hands the secret Lightnings form,—
And the huge Mine receives the pregnant storm.
From its dark mouth the nitrous trains expand
Their intermingled branches to the strand.
—Afflicted Freedom saw Destruction nigh,
But check'd the tear and curb'd the rising sigh.
Beneath she view'd the hostile Navy ride
On the rough bosom of the adverse tide:
Despairing of relief, she seeks her Throne,
There waits her Temple's downfal, and her own;
There waits, in mournful state, th' exploding fire,
Determin'd with her Altars to expire.
—And now methought the party-colour'd Thane,
With eager footstep, hurried to the Main:
On his right arm the sleeping Boy he bears,
And with his left the flaming torch uprears;
But ere he could its sparkling horrors throw,
To animate the secret fires below,
An armed Band came on, a Patriot Train,
Who seiz'd the torch, and made the treason vain.
The deep-leagu'd Statesmen form'd the magic spell:
31
Mischief came forth with many a sturdy slave:
These gave the pond'rous hammer force, and those
The piercing chissel's subtle art oppose
To the hard stone, and, in strict union, join
To form beneath the Rock the treach'rous Mine.
Soon was the work perform'd; for magic Skill,
With hellish haste, obeys its Master's will.
That done, the ready Ministers prepare,
With direful art, and deep-designing care,
The fiery seeds which burning mountains yield,
And in Hell's sulph'rous caverns lie conceal'd;
With moulding hands the secret Lightnings form,—
And the huge Mine receives the pregnant storm.
From its dark mouth the nitrous trains expand
Their intermingled branches to the strand.
—Afflicted Freedom saw Destruction nigh,
But check'd the tear and curb'd the rising sigh.
Beneath she view'd the hostile Navy ride
On the rough bosom of the adverse tide:
32
There waits her Temple's downfal, and her own;
There waits, in mournful state, th' exploding fire,
Determin'd with her Altars to expire.
—And now methought the party-colour'd Thane,
With eager footstep, hurried to the Main:
On his right arm the sleeping Boy he bears,
And with his left the flaming torch uprears;
But ere he could its sparkling horrors throw,
To animate the secret fires below,
An armed Band came on, a Patriot Train,
Who seiz'd the torch, and made the treason vain.
The Vision vanish'd, and I saw no more
Of this dread scene;—but soon a wild Uproar
Of mingled voices burst upon my ears:
And strait, methought, a monstrous Car appears,
Unlike to those, which, in the days of yore,
In martial pomp, the conq'ring Hero bore.
On its broad stage the World's huge round was plac'd,
With Isles, and Continents, and Oceans grac'd;
Such as, of yore, old Atlas' shoulders press'd,
And drove his hoary chin into his breast:
Part was to part with iron sinews chain'd,
And brazen wheels the cumbrous load sustain'd.
—Full in the Waggon's front, a well-rang'd band,
In equal rows, the harness'd Passions stand.
Such power alone, in hellish mischief strong,
Could draw the World's unweildy weight along,
Hate, Anger, and Distrust, together stood,
And Murder, all athirst for human Blood:
Hot-glowing Lust and loud-complaining Care,
With grim Revenge and vehement Despair:
Profusion, Avarice, and bursting Pride,
With fell Ambition panting by their side,
And Love, by mortals falsely deify'd,
Like well-train'd coursers, to their labour broke,
With ready will, submitted to the yoke.
Their iron bits they champ in wanton play,
Eager to bear the pond'rous Orb away.
—With tinkling bells adorn'd and gawdy robe,
Exulting Folly sat upon the Globe:
She seiz'd the reins, and, as she wav'd the thong,
With thund'ring noise the Waggon roll'd along.
Bound to the wheels, in melancholy state,
The godlike Virtues shar'd Ixion's fate;
And, as the brazen circles mov'd around,
They soar'd aloft or brush'd the dusty ground.
Patience, that never struggled to be free,
With panting Hope, and meek-ey'd Chastity,
And Courage, that delights to meet his foe,
And Charity, that weeps for others woe,
With out-stretch'd limbs, in equal torments, feel
The rapid whirlwinds of the giddy wheel.
—Behind, methought, I, with amazement, view'd
Time's stubborn strength by knotty cords subdued.
His old and venerable form appear'd
Dragg'd rudely on, with filth and gore besmear'd:
He strove to break his bonds, but strove in vain,—
And with his ruffled plumage flapp'd the plain.
Of this dread scene;—but soon a wild Uproar
Of mingled voices burst upon my ears:
And strait, methought, a monstrous Car appears,
Unlike to those, which, in the days of yore,
In martial pomp, the conq'ring Hero bore.
On its broad stage the World's huge round was plac'd,
With Isles, and Continents, and Oceans grac'd;
33
And drove his hoary chin into his breast:
Part was to part with iron sinews chain'd,
And brazen wheels the cumbrous load sustain'd.
—Full in the Waggon's front, a well-rang'd band,
In equal rows, the harness'd Passions stand.
Such power alone, in hellish mischief strong,
Could draw the World's unweildy weight along,
Hate, Anger, and Distrust, together stood,
And Murder, all athirst for human Blood:
Hot-glowing Lust and loud-complaining Care,
With grim Revenge and vehement Despair:
Profusion, Avarice, and bursting Pride,
With fell Ambition panting by their side,
And Love, by mortals falsely deify'd,
Like well-train'd coursers, to their labour broke,
With ready will, submitted to the yoke.
Their iron bits they champ in wanton play,
Eager to bear the pond'rous Orb away.
—With tinkling bells adorn'd and gawdy robe,
Exulting Folly sat upon the Globe:
34
With thund'ring noise the Waggon roll'd along.
Bound to the wheels, in melancholy state,
The godlike Virtues shar'd Ixion's fate;
And, as the brazen circles mov'd around,
They soar'd aloft or brush'd the dusty ground.
Patience, that never struggled to be free,
With panting Hope, and meek-ey'd Chastity,
And Courage, that delights to meet his foe,
And Charity, that weeps for others woe,
With out-stretch'd limbs, in equal torments, feel
The rapid whirlwinds of the giddy wheel.
—Behind, methought, I, with amazement, view'd
Time's stubborn strength by knotty cords subdued.
His old and venerable form appear'd
Dragg'd rudely on, with filth and gore besmear'd:
He strove to break his bonds, but strove in vain,—
And with his ruffled plumage flapp'd the plain.
“These” said the Muse, “are subjects for thy song!
“Let themes like these thy manly strain prolong.
—“Does pining Merit in Oppression live?
“Give that protection which the Muse can give.
—“Does Patriot Virtue strive, but strive in vain,
“Its Country's dear-bought Freedom to maintain?
“Dare to support that long-deserted cause,
“And give, tho' Crowns oppose thee, give applause!
—“Is there a Man, who, from his earliest youth,
“Ne'er felt a sense of Honour or of Truth;
“Whose heart ne'er struggled with a wish for Fame,
“Whose cheek ne'er bore the blush of honest Shame;
“Vice his sole good, Himself his only end,
“The lurking Foe, the hypocritic Friend?
“If such an one there be, his bosom bare,—
“Show his black heart, and guide the Vultures there.
—“Should the vile Priest, for Lucre's filthy gain,
“Give up his Flock to join the courtly Train;
“Should he forsake the path his Saviour trod,
“And proudly turn his Back upon his God;
“Tho' Mitres crown him, break his golden Rest,
“And 'wake a troubled Conscience in his breast.
—“Does Beauty, swerving from its Maker's plan
“To be the Solace and the Joy of Man,
“Spurning at Fame and Honour's mild decree,
“Drink, with delight, the dregs of Infamy?
—“Does Man, so made to cherish, first betray,
“Then leave the Victim to the World a Prey?
“Let not thy Verse its angry scourge forbear,
“Nor veil the shameless Wanton's last despair.
—“Should frolic Youth, by mast'ring Passions led,
“In Folly's fair but treach'rous mazes tread,
“With cunning skill, and well-imagin'd care,
“Full in his view expose the lurking snare;
“And strive, by just degrees and friendly art,
“To 'wake the Virtue slumb'ring in his Heart.
—“Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end,
“Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend,
“Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?—
“Scourge him!—nor fear the wit of Chesterfield.
—“Do hireling Statesmen, in Corruption bold,
“Sell their poor Country as themselves are sold?
“With noble courage let thy Patriot Song
“Inflame a Nation to revenge its wrong.
—“Is there a Monarch, by mad Folly led,
“And under something worse than Folly bred;—
“Who would his People's sacred Rights betray,
“And longs to rule them with tyrannic Sway?—
“Exalt thy Strain, nor be the silly Thing
“That fears to speak of Justice to a King;—
“Deep in his Bosom plant the conscious Groan,—
“Nor spare a Vice,—tho' seated on a Throne.”—
“Let themes like these thy manly strain prolong.
35
“Give that protection which the Muse can give.
—“Does Patriot Virtue strive, but strive in vain,
“Its Country's dear-bought Freedom to maintain?
“Dare to support that long-deserted cause,
“And give, tho' Crowns oppose thee, give applause!
—“Is there a Man, who, from his earliest youth,
“Ne'er felt a sense of Honour or of Truth;
“Whose heart ne'er struggled with a wish for Fame,
“Whose cheek ne'er bore the blush of honest Shame;
“Vice his sole good, Himself his only end,
“The lurking Foe, the hypocritic Friend?
“If such an one there be, his bosom bare,—
“Show his black heart, and guide the Vultures there.
—“Should the vile Priest, for Lucre's filthy gain,
“Give up his Flock to join the courtly Train;
“Should he forsake the path his Saviour trod,
“And proudly turn his Back upon his God;
“Tho' Mitres crown him, break his golden Rest,
“And 'wake a troubled Conscience in his breast.
36
“To be the Solace and the Joy of Man,
“Spurning at Fame and Honour's mild decree,
“Drink, with delight, the dregs of Infamy?
—“Does Man, so made to cherish, first betray,
“Then leave the Victim to the World a Prey?
“Let not thy Verse its angry scourge forbear,
“Nor veil the shameless Wanton's last despair.
—“Should frolic Youth, by mast'ring Passions led,
“In Folly's fair but treach'rous mazes tread,
“With cunning skill, and well-imagin'd care,
“Full in his view expose the lurking snare;
“And strive, by just degrees and friendly art,
“To 'wake the Virtue slumb'ring in his Heart.
—“Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end,
“Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend,
“Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?—
“Scourge him!—nor fear the wit of Chesterfield.
—“Do hireling Statesmen, in Corruption bold,
“Sell their poor Country as themselves are sold?
37
“Inflame a Nation to revenge its wrong.
—“Is there a Monarch, by mad Folly led,
“And under something worse than Folly bred;—
“Who would his People's sacred Rights betray,
“And longs to rule them with tyrannic Sway?—
“Exalt thy Strain, nor be the silly Thing
“That fears to speak of Justice to a King;—
“Deep in his Bosom plant the conscious Groan,—
“Nor spare a Vice,—tho' seated on a Throne.”—
THE END.
This Nobleman, in an interested age, is a most shining example of disinterested Friendship. —I shall take a more proper occasion than the present to enlarge upon so pleasing a subject. —Indeed, higher abilities than mine are requisite to give a due celebrity to his character: however, my best talents, such as they are, shall one day be exerted to do him justice;—I have reserved a page for the purpose.
I must beg the worthy Lord, to whom I have the honour of alluding, not to have any great dependance upon his being mentioned at this time only en passant—It did not suit my purpose to say more; but he may be assured, that I will, at a proper opportunity, keep my word with him, and with the public in regard to him.
Among the many refinements which disgrace this refining age, and seem to strike at the root of all decency, the circumstance here alluded to is of the first magnitude. —There are many unfortunate women, artfully reduced to a state of prostitution, who have much more real chastity in their hearts than that young person of fashion, who not only knowingly receives the addresses of a man when he is infected with an impure disease, but enters into a formal consent to delay her union with him till he is purified from it,—when she receives him to her arms from the sink of pollution. —Such an one must think her marriage more effectually sanctified by the certificate of the Surgeon, than the benediction of the Divine.
The scheme for retrieving the ruined fortunes of this man and those who were connected with him, has far outgone every other bold and audacious imposition which has, in these days, insulted the understandings and common-sense of mankind. —It would be an impertinence to enlarge my observations in this place;—but in the History of the present Times, which is the employment of my leisure-hours, a very full, minute, and authentic account of this transaction will be given to the world.
This Gentleman was one of the most extraordinary persons who have lived in the present age. —He possessed considerable abilities; his mind was not unadorned with useful and polite information, and he was remarkable for a great share of that lively humour which is so essential to the character of what is called a boon companion: but his peculiar and distinguishing characteristic was a perfect Knowledge of Mankind, which he exercised with a success that has no example. —The World was the book which he made the continual object of his study; and, directing all the force of his natural sagacity to that point, he acquired a supreme insight into human weaknesses, and was, thereby, enabled so to apply the humorous flexibility of his own character as to lead them to his purpose. —This was his great and golden attribute; and to a judicious application of it, to all ranks and stations, he owes every success of his life. By this talent he duped the penetration, cunning, and even avarice of Lord Bath:—by this he carried his election for the county of Radnor, where he had little or no property, and little or no natural interest, against persons who had both great property and great natural interest:—by this he was enabled to dupe, or, to use a more expressive term, to humbug all kinds of persons, from a Peer of the realm to the Waiter of a bawdy-house, and, first or last, to gain his point with them all. —By the same means, without having ever possessed any considerable fortune, he contrived, for many years, to bear himself upon a footing with the richest men in the kingdom, indulged himself in all the expensive turns of the Man of Taste, and in all the luxury of the Man of Pleasure;—left his family in a state of opulence, though he continually lived, as he died, in a state of insolvency. —Since my acquaintance with this Person, I have no longer considered the Sir John Falstaff of Shakespeare to be a character of Invention and cut of Nature, as many of his Commentators have supposed:—I am now convinced that it was founded in Truth; and, if due allowance be made for the difference of times and circumstances, this Gentleman will be found to have been a very striking counterpart of that singular character. —Chase Price was, undoubtedly, the Falstaff of the present age.
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