 | The Royal Dream |  |
THE ROYAL DREAM;
OR THE P--- in a PANIC.
Shakespeare.
Florello, tir'd of flattery and fun,
With rising vapours of champagne opprest,
Thrice yawn'd most royally and reel'd to rest.
Upon the pillow's downy softness laid,
He re-enjoys the scene; by fancy's aid,
Scatt'ring her pictures o'er his heated brain,
He acts the midnight riot o'er again,
And thrice declares the pledge and thrice commands the strain.
But other objects croud the fleeting dream;
'Cross the dark void illumin'd spectres gleam.
The angry billows lash th' affrighted shore;
The turrets totter and the mountain's height,
Presents it's dangers to the dazzled sight:
'Till, harrass'd with the visionary pain,
Florello starts and wakes,—and sleeps again.
Again he dreams; and lo, in solemn mood,
Beside his bed a fancied spectre stood!
The ribband hung across his flowing vest;
The silver star was faded on his breast;
A tear appear'd to stand in either eye,
His bosom labour'd with the swelling sigh;
When waving either hand the vision spoke,
And thus the more than midnight silence broke.
By the rare warrant of indulgent heaven,
To quit my dark abode, and, to thy youth,
Point out the ways of honour and of truth.
Or from the present path to turn aside
His eager steps:—I bid him onward run
The fair career his virtue has begun.
My task, as jockies guide the generous horse,
To urge his swiftness and direct his course;
By some kind, lib'ral system to bestow
The certain joy without succeeding woe;
To check th' impetuous virtue and controul
By wholesome rules the feelings of his soul.
And much it joys me that thy ready mind,
By no unseemly prejudice confin'd,
With all the graceful negligence of art,
Pants for the maxims which I now impart.
When youth and vigour feel their golden prime;
When passion wakes, and hope's gay ardor leads
To pleasure's fragrant bow'rs and painted meads;
Tells of those raptures that can never cloy.
No more the slave of arbitrary power,
When mitred dulness held the threat'ning rod,
And terror waited on a father's nod;
You now enjoy the free and easy state
'Twixt early bondage and the cares that wait
Around the throne, for should a throne be thine,
Thy gay and frolic humour must resign
It's wayward pastimes and it's wanton glee,
To the proud cares of sovereign royalty.
Short and uncertain is youth's blooming day;
Soon may the hours of freedom pass away;
Haste then while time is thine, delighted rove
Through all the perfum'd labyrinths of love,
Where pleasure smiles, where luxury invites,
Obey the call, pursue the gay delights
Thy present smile or future grace to share;
But let not Venus boast thy only rites;
The rosy God will claim his festive nights.
Dame Fortune too will ask a fav'rite's place,
Nor be contented with a loose embrace;
And crouds of lesser votaries will claim
The kind protection of thy honour'd name.
But still let cool discretion act its part;
Whatever wishes warm your gen'rous heart,
Whether you dance, or drink, or game, or whore;
Whether with attic-wits you proudly shine,
With fidlers prattle, or with gamblers dine;
Howe'er you act, my son, whate'er you do,
Let prudence still suggest the lurking view.
When the sly sharks have mark'd thee for their prey,
Be you as cunning and as shrew'd as they:
Whatever thoughts your panting breast may share,
Let caution find a secret corner there.
How great the pride, the day of folly past,
To prove the cunning villains dupes at last,
When the lewd brothel or the harlot's smile
Refuse your sated senses to beguile;
When passion, tir'd of purchas'd joys, would prove
Something like raptures of a real love;
To turn from innocence the virgin's heart,
To leave the darling of a parent's care
A prey to fell remorse and pale despair.
Nor let the wanton hours thy thoughts inflame
To turn from wedded love the noble dame;
Correct the wish, the giddy rage command
And fear the fate of Uncle Cumberland,
Oh rather seek some pretty, pouting fair,
No longer flatter'd by an husband's care,
Who treats with coldness all her glowing charms,
And turns to rapture in a wanton's arms;
Or, having lost each dear and tender name,
Each generous feeling in the love of game,
When ruin threatens would with joy behold
The budding horns, if they were tipt with gold.
Here then indulge, from every terror free,
The twofold bliss of love and charity.
An husband poor and proud who would be blind
To his wife's shame, would you but condescend
To rank him with your train, and call him friend;
Who would rejoice to see the diamond shine
On her smooth brow were but the present thine,
Proud that your royal bounty should receive
The best returns her gratitude could give.
Or the vain censure of an idle town
What are such censures, or those frowns to thee,
That thou should'st shudder at adultery?
While thy sage uncles took delight the rove
Through the rank mazes of illicit love,
To the chaste pleasures of the nuptial bed,
They felt the foul disgrace; forbid to sport
Their tainted figures in a pious court.
Princes are bound by laws that do not bind
The more inferior classes of mankind:
But equal justice fails not to bestow
Some precious rights the vulgar must not know.
The Feast by day, the gay debauch by night,
Let no false scruple urge thee to refuse
Whate'er the turf, the club, the streets, the stews
May offer to thy wish; all means employ
T'improve the moments of convivial joy.
From such a band another use may flow:
Their various skill will teach thee well to know
The ways of men; for oh! the hardest part
Of human knowledge is the human heart.
To let thy presence such vile circles grace,
But mind not that, if Machiavel speaks true,
And he each maze of human cunning knew,
'Tis with such varied tribes, in such a school,
You'll learn the great and sov'reign art to rule.
Beneath your gilded roofs let freedom reign,
Push round the glass, command th' enliv'ning bowl,
Let the gay juice unlock the secret soul;
Chase vain distinction; from your frizled hair
Pluck the Tiara chance has planted there,
Forget thyself,—to aid the mystic plan,
Lay royalty aside and play the man;
Or if 'twould more enhance the general joy,
Let manhood rest awhile and,—play the boy!
'Twill well reward thy pains, for great's power
Of Bacchus gay intoxicated hour,
The hidden purpose of the cunning heart.
But would you know the passions that infest
With dead'ning influence the human breast,
Chase the gay scene, the ready dice command,
Let the box rattle in each eager hand.
Mix with the noisy tribe and mark by turns
How swelling hope within each bosom burns;
How, in a moment, forc'd by pale despair,
It quits the harrass'd throne it sought to share;
How, in the heart, by jarring tempests tost,
Truth, honour, reason, virtue all are lost.
—Let not the frenzy fright thee; rather try
What venture waits upon the treach'rous die.
Thy lucky throws may wring the gambler's heart.
But should'st thou lose, in fortune's fickle hour,
Mortgage the promises of future power.
Should clam'rous duns assail thy wearied gate,
And sorry tradesmen with impatience wait
Their ling'ring dues, 'till Hotham's eyes behold
Your coffers shining with replenish'd gold,
Withdraw your favours,—let the crew bemoan
The gilded plumes that made their traffic known:
Is it no honour that your name should grace
The splendid portals of the thankless race?
Or lends it not the privilege to cheat
The wealthy little ones who ape the great?
Grant then the favour, where your frequent name
May give the ponderous ledger half its fame.
Thy present nonage and the golden scene
That fate doth promise, let it be your plan
To pass your days as gaily as you can.
While youth is thine, while you as yet are free,
Hunt through each maze of blest variety,
To-day, let noble demireps amuse;
To-morrow the chaste rabble of the stews.
By turns command the dice, the race, the dance,
The beef of England and the soups of France;
But trust not C*****s; what tho' while he tells
The luscious tale, thy fervent blood rebels;
What tho' he boasts of those Parisian charms,
That wait to revel in thy longing arms;
Let not his artful vauntings tempt thee o'er
The waves that part thee from his dang'rous shore;
Push round the glass, and drown his weak design
In frequent goblets of deceitful wine;
Pursue thy draughts and mock the Gallic lord.
May please thee with the dreams of future power,
Or F** may tell thee it becomes the great
To know a little something of the state,
T'attend his eloquence and learn your trade.
But, sicken'd with the senate's jarring noise,
Should your soul languish for love's softer joys,
Some Tommy Titmouse, ever on the wing,
To pander for an embryo of a king,
Will haste the am'rous parley, and prepare
For thy warm wish, the half reluctant fair.
In courtly palaces and ladies bowers,
In Cupid's lists to urge love's warm debate,
Than aid a factious uproar in the state.
Of warring politics the giddy fool;
Of a proud minister the wanton sport,
Scorn'd and insulted by an haughty court;
A distant exile from the very throne
Which nature promised me should be my own;
But fate forbad, and sent me to the grave,
Where faction left it's poor, its royal slave,
With scarce a friend to shed an honest tear,
O'er my neglected and untimely bier.
By desperate arts thy heated mind to sin
Prudence and honour urge thee to fulfill
Th' exterior forms: whate'er thy heart may feel
Let not thy tongue its inward thoughts reveal.
'Twere better far, with gentle grace, to ply
The courtly unction of hypocrisy.
In frequent visits let thy form perfume
The dull, stale commerce of the drawing room,
And now and then, oh! how 'twould please the Queen,
At chapel royal on a cushion lean;
Nor look impatient, nor be seen to yawn
At prosing dullness clad in sacred lawn.
But if thy airy follies should extort
The fretful vengeance of a captious court;
With gentle hints alarm a father's fears,
By kind remonstrance urge a mother's tears;
That checks pedantic counsels,—this may feed
The present want and make her coffers bleed.
Yours be the lust of universal fame.
Be gay with youth and with the old be grave;
Proud with the courtier, with the fair a slave.
Folly's a pretty plaything, but the day
Of hasty life must not be pass'd in play.
Let then young pleasure sometimes yield the pow'r
To sage reflection's solitary hour;
Regard the past nor, idly, set at nought
The humble maxims that a Markham taught.
To know the world, round every circle run
Nor fear to do what wiser men have done,
'Tis in the world, that universal school,
Where you must learn the sov'reign art to rule:
Thus train'd, my darling boy, you'll greatly sway
The sceptre's weight and make mankind obey.
Lives ever-honour'd in the roll of fame,
'Mid thieves and villains learn'd to grace a throne,
And add another kingdom to his own.
How well the bright example you pursue,
Who strive an Henry's riots to outdo;
To leave him far behind you nobly aim
In present folly as in future fame,
But diff'rent ages different manners grace.
One change eternal goads the human race.
T'oppose is vain; not all the power of kings
Can stop the common course of common things.
Thy Falstaff doth another nature wear
Than the lewd greybeard who was wont to share
Hal's joyous nights; thy Falstaff will not be
Content with whim and letch'rous revelry,
Of vice as various as his parts possess'd,—
No blushing scruple lurking in his breast,
To plot for present, or for future power,
With varying art to ply the deep debate,
To raise sedition and embroil the state;
Above all Gad's-hill plunders, but tho' free
From petty crimes, would rob the treasury;
And night and day with his vile crew would toil
To drain the last rich drop of India's spoil;
Such is your Falstaff—but beware the art
With which he'll try to gain thy easy heart:
Trust not his words; what tho', in accents loud,
He roars of freedom to a gaping croud,
In his base heart the secret wishes crave
To soil the crown and make his prince a slave.
Think not he loves thee, or that honest zeal
Prompts a smooth tongue his duties to reveal.
Some bold, some cunning passion bears the sway
Within his soul and marks thee for it's prey.
He creeps with meanness or he soars with pride;
He now will flatter and anon pretend
To give the graver counsels of a friend:
Perhaps to faction's rage he'd lead thee on
And bid thee laugh at dreaming Doddington.
While expectation dooms you to await
More solid honours and a riper age,
Falstaff and Falstaff's tribe may well engage
Thy youthful moments; well may'st thou employ
The parti-colour'd crew in social joy.
To cheer thy banquet and thy mirth to raise
With attic wit and prostituted praise
To tell the bawdy tale, or smother sense
In the rich vein of rapid eloquence;
That flatters folly,—but makes reason sick;
Or, should thy need a quick supply demand,
To search each corner of Judæan land;
To sell Post-Obits, or a Jewel bear
To hide it's lustre in a broker's care;
Indulge their silly pride and call them friends.
But would you make their useful slav'ry last,
To all your wishes would you bind them fast,
Feed their fond hopes, throw out the golden bait;
Let future views of wealth, of power and state.
Play on their glowing fancies; to their eyes,
Let airy wands, and airy ribbands rise;
Nor spare the flattery while, in vision bright,
The fancied coronets entrance the sight;
And promis'd titles greet his ravish'd ear.
—But when thy sated passions rage no more,
And wild excess is purg'd by boiling o'er;
When thy chang'd mind, renew'd by wisdom's rays,
Gives the fair earnest of thy future days.
With princely resolution, bid adieu
To the bold leader, and his servile crew,
Dash his fond hopes,—and, in the tow'ring pride
Of all their wishes, spurn them from your side.
Delighted Britain will the deed approve,
And well reward thee with a nation's love.
Warns me to seek the dusky realms of night:
Adieu, thou dearest honour to thy race,
Fain would I clasp thee in a fond embrace,
But Heav'n forbids.”—It spoke, and as it strove
T'express th' endearments of parental love,
It melted into air.—In rude surprise
Florello woke, for instant help he cries,
On W***je calls, to whom in wild affright
He told the chilling horrors of the night;
Nor could the favour'd caterer refuse
T'unfold the story to the tell-tale muse;
And the big muse, in language all her own,
Conveys the important secret through the town.
Departed spirits do not know so much of this upper world as they pretend; or such an anticipated admonition would never have been offered.—Our ghost, by the failure of some pacquet, had not been informed, that the darling object of his councils would drink two bottles of old hock at a sportsman's breakfast without being sick, or sorry; and that in the true spirit of Roman gluttony, he will discharge his distended stomach again and again, in order to enjoy the repeated pleasure of replenishing it.
If we may judge from some late Newmarket expeditions, the lady has formed a plan, in concept with some of her emissaries, to keep him, while he is worth keeping, entirely to herself.
This advice is well observed; for the caution in his panting breast, lies concealed in such a secret corner, that his most intimate friends have not the least suspicion of it.
To honour a gentleman with a visit, and under pretence of very confidential business with some particular persons of his household, to send that gentleman with a letter, which contains nothing more than an absolute command to make the bearer of it completely drunk, that the writer of it might be left alone with his wife; all this may be considered as a masterly piece of discretion, by the actors in the piece: the spectators, perhaps, may be of a very different opinion.
As fortunes may be lost, fortunes may also be recovered at the gaming table,—Various circumstances may restore a man to that opulence of which a fondness for play has deprived him: but the noblest feelings of the mind and the best qualities of the heart, which the love of gaming never fails to destroy, when once lost, are gone for ever.
A body of creditors did apply to a certain treasurer to know when they might expect a liquidation of their demands; and they received for answer, that if they did not chuse to serve his master any longer, they might send in their bills, and take down the symbols of service from their shop doors.—It might also have been added, that their accounts would be entered at large, in the dooms-day-book.
They know very little of the views and policy of the French court, who think that it would not rejoice to furnish any means, or employ any agents to corrupt the mind of an heir apparent of this country. It is an idea which in the present state of things, must make every reflecting Englishman tremble, I believe myself to be well sounded when I assert, that the court of France made sure of a visit from a certain great personage, during the course of the last summer, and that the Duke of C---s had actually made preparations for such an event, at his favourite Chateau.—A positive act of parliament which it would have been aukward to have violated, with some other little manœvres, prevented a trip to the continent, which I should have considered as a great political evil to this country.—The means that were used to seduce Lord Albemarle from Paris, in order to compleat a political design, whose operation would have been frustrated by his presence in that capital, is not I hope, as yet forgotten.—Some very serious considerations upon this subject, I have reserved for another place; and shall only add, that there is more in these things than good men may think.
The ghost is by no means a well informed ghost, he prophecies after the event has taken place, as all the town knows.
A most sensible memorial is to be found in the diary of Bobb Doddington, to prove what a sorry figure an heir apparent must ever make at the head of a party; it was written and presented to Frederic Prince of Wales, when he was engaged in the trouble, and felt all the inconvenience of such a situation. This volume, except the above memorial, does the writer so little honour as a man, that I cannot believe it to have been his design to have it published. I should rather think it was brought to light, to make certain impressions upon the mind of a certain person, whom a certain set of men have been doing their utmost to betray into his grandfather's errors.
The death of this amiable prince afforded an odious triumph to his enemies, at a moment when the heats of party are forgotten, and every injury forgiven by a generous mind. He was borne to his grave, not only with an indecent, but a contrived negligence; nor was he attended to that last home, even by those men, whose insiduous persuasions, induced him to pursue that line of conduct, which embittered his life, and brought upon his poor remains, the last mean insult of a revengeful and unforgiving court.
Here is a very apt allusion to the excellent memorial of Mr. Doddington, mentioned in a former note.
The lives of common fathers are common commodities in the jewish market;—but my curiosity is rather awake to know how a post obit could be arranged, which hangs upon the life of the father of his people;—This idea brings an event to my mind, that may without any impropriety, be recorded on this page.—On one of the days appointed for the commemoration of Handel, I happened to be seated near some of the few members of opposition, who attended on that occasion, and was more than surprized to see them all move off, at the commencement of the coronation anthem, except one, who sat next to me, and very soon explained the cause of their departure; for upon the grand burst of God-save the King, he seemed to receive a slight electrical stroke; at long live the King, the shock appeared to be very violent indeed; but at may the King live for ever, he started from his place, swore by God that was too much, and hurried away with a most indecent impatience.
A new georgium sidus has been lately discovered, of which Mr. Herschel is totally ignorant. It was thought at first to be a fixed star; but of late it has proved it's right to an admission into the planetary system; it's course is very eccentric, neither orbicular or parabolical, but proceeds in strait lines and zig-zags, with a great variety of turnings and windings. It is sometimes seen in full blaze on a cloudy night, and at other times, tho' the firmament is without a vapour, no eye can discern it. But the most singular circumstance attending this star, is it's portentous powers; for it's progressive motions never fall to denote a great dearth of money, as it's retrograde progress is a certain sign of a return of wealth.—A more particular history of this singular phænomenon is preparing for the press, and will be given with all due expedition, to the anxious expectations of the philosophic world.
The preceding scraps of admonition, tho' well imagined in themselves, were ill-timed by our ghost, as they had been offered to the object of them, by the good flesh and blood he had about him, long and long ago. But the final string of good counsels does the ghost honour; and that they may be followed, may the father of spirits grant in his infinite mercy and goodness. Amen and amen.
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