The Dance of Life A Poem, by the author of "Doctor Syntax;%" [i.e. William Combe] Illustrated with coloured engravings, by Thomas Rowlandson |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | CHAPTER IV. YOUTH. |
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| VIII. |
 | CHAPTER IV. YOUTH. The Dance of Life |  |
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CHAPTER IV. YOUTH.
THUS Life proceeds from scene to scene,The boyish blush, the youthful mien
That a more solid smile employs,
To tell the tale of early joys.
'Tis then th'unfinish'd form we scan,
That's past a Boy, but not a Man;
And, till matur'd by future growth,
Gives a delightful glimpse of both.
—O Nature, how thy sov'reign sway
Governs our Life's progressive day,
And bids each season to fulfil
The wishes of thy potent will,
While Fate permits thy bounded power
To rule Man's sublunary hour.
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A Gentle-Com. in Maudlin Grove:
Now he with solemn care puts on
The velvet cap, the tufted gown,
The Student's best caparison.
The Tutor's Lecture he obeys,
And joins the Chapel's vocal praise.
Each day's apportion'd hour applies
In Learning's hallow'd exercise.
Nor ever leaves the College walls
To mingle in the jovial brawls
Which mirth and idleness delight
To push through Evening into Night.
In lonely walks by Cherwell's stream,
He oft invites the Classic Theme:
And, in the noon-tide, sultry heat,
Beneath those branches takes his seat,
Where, if Tradition speaks the truth,
Fam'd Addison, in days of youth,
Warm'd by that animating ray
Which brighten'd his Meridian day,
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As his hand struck his early Lyre .
—From Junior Fellows oft he heard
The praise they willingly preferr'd;
Nor would they e'er refuse to ply
His grateful Hospitality;
Where, though rich viands might abound,
No Bacchanalian freaks were found.
In short, he yet was seen to shine,
The votary of Discipline;
The Proctor met with modest eyes,
And bow'd to College Dignities.
—A Father's councils still appear
To vibrate in his filial ear,
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Still did on his remembrance dwell.
Old Gravely's warnings did not fail,
At certain seasons, to prevail;
Nor thought he Granny's promis'd prayer
An offering that he well might spare.
Mr. Addison was entered of Queen's College in 1687, when he was about fifteen years of age; and, in 1689, the perusal of some Latin verses written by him on the Inauguration of William III. gained him the patronage of Dr. Lancaster, afterwards Provost of Queen's College, by whose recommendation he was elected a Demy of Magdalen College. Most of his early pieces were written while he resided within its walls; and the late Dr. West used to point out a tree in the Water-Walks, whose branches o'er-canopied a favourite seat of the young Student: a tradition which local enthusiasm is disposed to encourage.— History of Oxford, published by Ackermann, Strand.
His frolic spirit felt a void,
And sought to beat in livelier measure,
Accordant to the song of pleasure;
Nor was it long e'er Fancy's charms
His vacant, restless bosom warms
T'extend the circle which confin'd
In College Rules his active mind.
He hears the flippant tongue repeat
The vagrant tale, the smart conceit,
With envious sympathy admires
The sprightly strain that wine inspires;
And, while he feels the social joy,
New views of things his thoughts employ.
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Of twice five thousand pounds a year,
Could not, in Reason's eye, be made
To follow Learning as a trade;
That Education in its plan,
To form the future Gentleman,
Allows a system less severe,
Less shackled, in its pliant sphere,
For those whom Fate's decrees ordain
To move where rank and Fortune reign.
—'Twas thus he reason'd, thus was taught
To give a livelier turn to thought;
And, thus betray'd by witless pride,
Took well-dress'd Folly for his guide.
At length, charm'd by the Syren's song,
He mingled with the jovial throng;
The sportive youth, for such there are,
Whom Alma Mater's utmost care
Cannot restrain or keep in awe,
By Statute Rule or College Law;
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In festive joys and wanton play,
And call a Life of vagrant pleasure
The well-bred Student's learned leisure.
—Harry had wit as well as spirit,
And did those social powers inherit,
Which, among youths, gives youth the art
To turn the head and cheat the heart;
And each alluring folly dress
In the false garb of happiness.
Left to himself he would not stray
Further from Reason's early way,
Than Virtue's self, who ne'er betrays,
Would pardon, if she could not praise:
But he too aptly play'd the fool
The ready, unsuspecting tool
Of those who had the subtle skill
To fashion others to their will.
Thus Harry soon assum'd the lead
In ev'ry Student-errant deed
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And quizz'd the beauty of their Spouses.
Or if his Tutor's nose were long,
Made it the burthen of a song;
While at the Lectures he receiv'd
He look'd most grave, but never griev'd.
Yet, though in gamesome gusts of fun
He'd hoax a Don, or kick a Dun;
Would in the dark assail a Doctor,
And, by hard running, 'scape a Proctor;
Engage in Rows, which we must own,
Are not to sapping Students known;
Still, it was so ordain'd by Fate,
Harry was not a reprobate.
In all his freaks, nay, in his wine
A courtly grace was seen to shine,
Which often sav'd him when he swerv'd
From the harsh censure he deserv'd.
He never gam'd, nor did he swear;
Riot he would, but with an air,
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Th'excesses of a gen'rous heart.
If in a Bacchanalian Freak,
He did a Tradesman's windows break;
Content that the good folks were frighted,
A two-fold pay the loss requited:
He ne'er did mischief, but the morrow
Brought the remunerating sorrow.
When he was sick, or in foul weather,
He'd study for a week together;
Would trifle with th'Horatian lyre,
And call Apollo to inspire;
Nay, to deserve his chast'ning aid,
He'd change Old Port for Lemonade;
Or ask Thalia for a glee,
As he enjoy'd his evening Tea.
But, in these solitary hours,
When Reason re-assum'd its powers,
And the rude, boisterous, flattering crew,
Till he got well, had bid adieu,
His thoughts were not confin'd to verse:
For he could Cicero rehearse;
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Would thunder forth Demosthenes;—
And well he could explain the page
Of Classic Lore to Tutor sage:
But the grave Lectures did not find
A resting-place in Harry's mind.
Frequent they were, but all in vain,
Though ever cloth'd in friendly strain,
And such as promis'd to impart
Their counsels to a feeling heart;
And so they might for one short hour,
But, in the next they lost their power.
These Lectures, no uncommon lot,
Were heard—remember'd—and forgot;
And now, at length, we'll give the last—
A specimen of many past.
One morning, when in sickly mood,
The languid Youth repentance woo'd,
The sage, grave man, before him stood.
Then took his seat, and thus address'd
The anxious feelings of his breast.
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“That idle Youth, whom I have seen
“Skulking behind the shelt'ring screen,
“Let him come forth, the recreant base,
“And shew his sour, unblushing face.
“He's one of that mean, blust'ring crew
“Who wait upon, and laugh,—at You.
“What I've to say he must not hear
“With sniveling frown or silent sneer:
“I know him well.—'Tis my desire
“That he should instantly retire.
“Skulking behind the shelt'ring screen,
“Let him come forth, the recreant base,
“And shew his sour, unblushing face.
“He's one of that mean, blust'ring crew
“Who wait upon, and laugh,—at You.
“What I've to say he must not hear
“With sniveling frown or silent sneer:
“I know him well.—'Tis my desire
“That he should instantly retire.
“I seize the moment when the mind
“May to grave thoughts be more inclin'd;
“When langour o'er the body steals
“And a pale, sickly face reveals
“That o'ercharg'd Nature suffers pain
“And the blood lingers through the vein;
“When, for a while, the spirit's fled,
“Which, by intemperate folly fed,
“In its gorg'd state yields up its power
“And waits the renovating hour.
“Lost is the flow of ribbald wit
“Nerveless, in humbled guise you sit,
“While with dull thought and heavy eye,
“You to some casual page apply,
“To ease the mental lethargy.
“—'Tis at this moment I appear,
“When duty speaks and you must hear:
“'Tis at this moment I attend
“With the grave counsels of a friend:
“'Tis now, while in your present state,
“Your mind's compell'd to ruminate
“On what you must lamenting see,
“The fruits of senseless revelry;
“I come with warm but sober zeal
“To make you think—to make you feel,
“And fix, by words, with reason fraught,
“The lucid interval of thought;
“Which, when this transient evil's past,
“May, with its best impressions, last.
“May to grave thoughts be more inclin'd;
“When langour o'er the body steals
“And a pale, sickly face reveals
“That o'ercharg'd Nature suffers pain
“And the blood lingers through the vein;
“When, for a while, the spirit's fled,
“Which, by intemperate folly fed,
“In its gorg'd state yields up its power
“And waits the renovating hour.
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“Nerveless, in humbled guise you sit,
“While with dull thought and heavy eye,
“You to some casual page apply,
“To ease the mental lethargy.
“—'Tis at this moment I appear,
“When duty speaks and you must hear:
“'Tis at this moment I attend
“With the grave counsels of a friend:
“'Tis now, while in your present state,
“Your mind's compell'd to ruminate
“On what you must lamenting see,
“The fruits of senseless revelry;
“I come with warm but sober zeal
“To make you think—to make you feel,
“And fix, by words, with reason fraught,
“The lucid interval of thought;
“Which, when this transient evil's past,
“May, with its best impressions, last.
“When I reluctant look around,
“What's in this Chamber to be found:
“What in each corner can I trace,
“As in its Owner's pallid face,
“But what his feelings must confess,
“Symbols of riotous excess,
“Of gay and frolic Idleness.
“—Those empty flasks, lay scatter'd o'er,
“And, with their heap, disgrace the floor;
“There's your disease—there Bacchus lies—
“The soul of your festivities;
“While on yon crouded board is seen;
“Where Pills and Phials intervene,
“Those Æsculapian, labell'd powers
“Which may revive your sicken'd hours.
“For Gods like these you quit the shrine
“Of Phœbus, and the Tuneful Nine:
“'Tis thus you sculk from Learning's ray
“To grovel through the sensual day;
“Hence you prefer the Tavern Bill
“To the pure Heliconian rill.
“—Those sacred Tomes which bear a name
“Seen on the brightest roll of Fame,
“Are left to moulder on the shelves,
“Huddled together by themselves;
“While, fearful that they should be seen,
“You veil them with that venal screen.
“What's in this Chamber to be found:
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“As in its Owner's pallid face,
“But what his feelings must confess,
“Symbols of riotous excess,
“Of gay and frolic Idleness.
“—Those empty flasks, lay scatter'd o'er,
“And, with their heap, disgrace the floor;
“There's your disease—there Bacchus lies—
“The soul of your festivities;
“While on yon crouded board is seen;
“Where Pills and Phials intervene,
“Those Æsculapian, labell'd powers
“Which may revive your sicken'd hours.
“For Gods like these you quit the shrine
“Of Phœbus, and the Tuneful Nine:
“'Tis thus you sculk from Learning's ray
“To grovel through the sensual day;
“Hence you prefer the Tavern Bill
“To the pure Heliconian rill.
“—Those sacred Tomes which bear a name
“Seen on the brightest roll of Fame,
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“Huddled together by themselves;
“While, fearful that they should be seen,
“You veil them with that venal screen.
“Your mind has been correctly taught,
“And with those seeds of virtue fraught,
“Which, though you check them in their growth,
“May still, in wiser hours branch forth,
“Throughout your life in vigour bloom,
“And form the splendour of your tomb.
“Such is my hope—and this my prayer,
“That you henceforward may forbear
“The gawdy dance where folly leads,
“The snares which foul Intemp'rance spreads;
“And, when you grieve for what is past,
“That penitence may be your last.
“—Shake off these Hangers-on, who quaff
“Your midnight bowls; and, as they laugh,
“Sneer at their Host, th'unconscious tool
“Of their ungrateful Ridicule.
“They jointly revel from your purse
“That pays for all;—but, what is worse,
“They gloss their vices with such art,
“So cunningly their thoughts impart,
“That though you do not praise their song,
“You scarce can think they're doing wrong.
“—Such is the error, the deceit,
“By which the heart itself doth cheat;
“And Solomon, who knew it well,
“Does in his solemn language tell,
“That 'tis a thing we cannot trust,
“Would we be wise, or good, or just.
“You'll say, perhaps, that you are young;
“But youthful habits may be wrong,
“And you have play'd the fool too long.
“—Seek Wisdom then, obey her calls,
“Which echo through these hallow'd walls:
“Give to those truths your list'ning powers,
“Which she unfolds in Learning's bowers.
“And with those seeds of virtue fraught,
“Which, though you check them in their growth,
“May still, in wiser hours branch forth,
“Throughout your life in vigour bloom,
“And form the splendour of your tomb.
“Such is my hope—and this my prayer,
“That you henceforward may forbear
“The gawdy dance where folly leads,
“The snares which foul Intemp'rance spreads;
“And, when you grieve for what is past,
“That penitence may be your last.
“—Shake off these Hangers-on, who quaff
“Your midnight bowls; and, as they laugh,
“Sneer at their Host, th'unconscious tool
“Of their ungrateful Ridicule.
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“That pays for all;—but, what is worse,
“They gloss their vices with such art,
“So cunningly their thoughts impart,
“That though you do not praise their song,
“You scarce can think they're doing wrong.
“—Such is the error, the deceit,
“By which the heart itself doth cheat;
“And Solomon, who knew it well,
“Does in his solemn language tell,
“That 'tis a thing we cannot trust,
“Would we be wise, or good, or just.
“You'll say, perhaps, that you are young;
“But youthful habits may be wrong,
“And you have play'd the fool too long.
“—Seek Wisdom then, obey her calls,
“Which echo through these hallow'd walls:
“Give to those truths your list'ning powers,
“Which she unfolds in Learning's bowers.
“When you first wore a Student's gown,
“Your virtues we were proud to own,
“Nor thought to see you steer a course
“From good to bad—from bad to worse;
“Till, with ill-omen'd grief, I view
“The senseless conduct you pursue.
“Your virtues we were proud to own,
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“From good to bad—from bad to worse;
“Till, with ill-omen'd grief, I view
“The senseless conduct you pursue.
“You know a parent's power I bear,
“Who gave you to my watchful care:
“While his cheeks felt the falling tear
“He nam'd me as his Proxy here;
“And warmly crav'd me to supply
“His full, transferr'd Authority.
“He might, in truth, I fear, complain
“That I've not held a tighten'd reign;
“That to false kindness I've resign'd
“Th'ungrateful impulse of your mind;
“That my fond care too long delay'd
“To call in rigour to its aid,
“And let you frisk in Folly's bower,
“Nor check'd you by the arm of power.
“—With you I've ever thrown aside
“Each symptom of Collegiate Pride,
“Nor wore the solemn face that awes
“Ingenuous youth to view the laws
“Which wisdom fram'd in terms severe,
“With mild and venerating fear.
“Has not my calm remonstrance strove
“To wake your gratitude and love?
“Have I not interpos'd to spare
“Those censures you deserv'd to bear?
“Nay, have I not preserv'd your name
“From the due meed of public shame?
“How oft have you the promise given,
“And call'd on all the powers in Heaven
“To witness, in repentant strain,
“That you would ne'er offend again!
“And yet your follies are renew'd,
“The same vile track has been pursu'd
“That calls on Duty to repress
“Such scenes of noisy Idleness.
“Who gave you to my watchful care:
“While his cheeks felt the falling tear
“He nam'd me as his Proxy here;
“And warmly crav'd me to supply
“His full, transferr'd Authority.
“He might, in truth, I fear, complain
“That I've not held a tighten'd reign;
“That to false kindness I've resign'd
“Th'ungrateful impulse of your mind;
“That my fond care too long delay'd
“To call in rigour to its aid,
“And let you frisk in Folly's bower,
“Nor check'd you by the arm of power.
“—With you I've ever thrown aside
“Each symptom of Collegiate Pride,
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“Ingenuous youth to view the laws
“Which wisdom fram'd in terms severe,
“With mild and venerating fear.
“Has not my calm remonstrance strove
“To wake your gratitude and love?
“Have I not interpos'd to spare
“Those censures you deserv'd to bear?
“Nay, have I not preserv'd your name
“From the due meed of public shame?
“How oft have you the promise given,
“And call'd on all the powers in Heaven
“To witness, in repentant strain,
“That you would ne'er offend again!
“And yet your follies are renew'd,
“The same vile track has been pursu'd
“That calls on Duty to repress
“Such scenes of noisy Idleness.
“I to this moment have believ'd,
“And still I hope I'm not deceiv'd,
“That you retain, 'mid Folly's brood,
“Some sense at least of what is good:
“That all the fruits of so much care
“As did your early mind prepare;
“Though in the gusts of Passion tost,
“And for a time in Folly lost,
“Will, in Reflection's serious hour,
“Resume their renovated power:
“And now, I trust, that hour appears,
“Which will suspend my anxious fears,
“And my fond, pleasing hopes restore;—
“When you will play the fool no more.
“O strive this moment to controul
“The sickly tumults of your soul:
“From your past habitudes refrain,
“Arouse, and be yourself again:
“Be what you were when all approv'd—
“When all who knew you prais'd and lov'd.
“Horace I oft have heard you praise;
“Think, then, on what that Poet says.
“—A fugitive from Heaven and prayer,
“You've mock'd at all religious fear;
“Of wise Associates bereft,
“You liv'd to sense alone, but now
“Hoist sail, and back your voyage plow:
“To the blest Harbour which you left .
“And still I hope I'm not deceiv'd,
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“Some sense at least of what is good:
“That all the fruits of so much care
“As did your early mind prepare;
“Though in the gusts of Passion tost,
“And for a time in Folly lost,
“Will, in Reflection's serious hour,
“Resume their renovated power:
“And now, I trust, that hour appears,
“Which will suspend my anxious fears,
“And my fond, pleasing hopes restore;—
“When you will play the fool no more.
“O strive this moment to controul
“The sickly tumults of your soul:
“From your past habitudes refrain,
“Arouse, and be yourself again:
“Be what you were when all approv'd—
“When all who knew you prais'd and lov'd.
“Horace I oft have heard you praise;
“Think, then, on what that Poet says.
“—A fugitive from Heaven and prayer,
“You've mock'd at all religious fear;
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“You liv'd to sense alone, but now
“Hoist sail, and back your voyage plow:
“To the blest Harbour which you left .
“No harsh, pedantic Censor I,
“To preach up gloomy Sanctity;
“Youth's lively season claims its pleasure,
“But just in mode and wise in measure,
“Whose hours, by Virtue's smiles refin'd,
“Leave no regrets or pain behind.
“Court the gay Muse to whom belong
“The chasten'd jest, the pleasing song;
“But would you nobler thoughts inspire,
“The Masters of the Grecian Lyre,
“Or Latian Bards, by Phœbus taught,
“Will please and elevate the thought.
“Nor ask their powerful aid alone;—
“Join those we proudly call our own:
“Immortal Shakespeare—Milton's rhyme,
“That soars beyond the bounds of Time;
“With Dryden, in whose verse we trace
“A blended energy and grace;
“And Pope, whose sweet harmonious lays
“The mind delights in, and obeys;
“With Gray, in Elegiac pride,
“And the free verse of Akenside.
“—These, as they charm, with taste refin'd
“Will decorate the expanding mind;
“And thus a secret grace convey
“To all you do, and all you say;
“Smooth the dull brow of wrinkling care,
“And chase the thought that may ensnare.
“—Nor these alone, th'historic page,
“Of ev'ry race, of every age,
“Displays the long and various story:
“Heroes that liv'd or died in glory,
“Patriots, who their country sav'd,
“Tyrants, who mankind enslav'd,
“Sages, whose high-gifted powers
“That knowledge taught which now is ours,
“The Pictures form of human kind,
“Of every feeling of the mind,
“As in social man we see,
“Or the wide range of Policy;—
“Hence they a sage experience give,
“E'en to the times in which we live;
“And frame a Lesson to supply
“The Ages of Posterity.
“—With these Instructors may be join'd
“To strengthen and enrich the mind,
“Science, whose powers profound impart,
“Whate'er of nature and of art
“Presents to th'intellectual eye,
“In all the vast variety:
“While Philosophic Lore combines
“The various Labour, and confines
“In their due regulated sphere
“The essential parts of Character;
“And, as the Mistress of the Soul,
“Let mild Religion crown the whole:—
“That power, which commands the thought
“To think the very thing we ought;
“And holds up to our solemn view
“What we should shun, and what pursue.
“—O let not Sloth depress to earth
“Those early blossoms in their birth,
“Which to your ripening mind is given,
“To bloom through time, then rise to heaven!
“Awake your nature and expand
“Its powers; with attentive hand
“Prune its Luxuriance; and prepare
“Each branch the expected Fruit to bear.
“But think not in your jovial hours,
“When Riot rules and Reason lours,
“That time is actively employ'd:
“'Tis then, I say, that Time's destroy'd,
“At least, e'en Truth itself may say,
“'Tis wasted, squander'd, thrown away:
“For Folly's vigour and excess
“Is nought but active Idleness.
“To preach up gloomy Sanctity;
“Youth's lively season claims its pleasure,
“But just in mode and wise in measure,
“Whose hours, by Virtue's smiles refin'd,
“Leave no regrets or pain behind.
“Court the gay Muse to whom belong
“The chasten'd jest, the pleasing song;
“But would you nobler thoughts inspire,
“The Masters of the Grecian Lyre,
“Or Latian Bards, by Phœbus taught,
“Will please and elevate the thought.
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“Join those we proudly call our own:
“Immortal Shakespeare—Milton's rhyme,
“That soars beyond the bounds of Time;
“With Dryden, in whose verse we trace
“A blended energy and grace;
“And Pope, whose sweet harmonious lays
“The mind delights in, and obeys;
“With Gray, in Elegiac pride,
“And the free verse of Akenside.
“—These, as they charm, with taste refin'd
“Will decorate the expanding mind;
“And thus a secret grace convey
“To all you do, and all you say;
“Smooth the dull brow of wrinkling care,
“And chase the thought that may ensnare.
“—Nor these alone, th'historic page,
“Of ev'ry race, of every age,
“Displays the long and various story:
“Heroes that liv'd or died in glory,
“Patriots, who their country sav'd,
“Tyrants, who mankind enslav'd,
120
“That knowledge taught which now is ours,
“The Pictures form of human kind,
“Of every feeling of the mind,
“As in social man we see,
“Or the wide range of Policy;—
“Hence they a sage experience give,
“E'en to the times in which we live;
“And frame a Lesson to supply
“The Ages of Posterity.
“—With these Instructors may be join'd
“To strengthen and enrich the mind,
“Science, whose powers profound impart,
“Whate'er of nature and of art
“Presents to th'intellectual eye,
“In all the vast variety:
“While Philosophic Lore combines
“The various Labour, and confines
“In their due regulated sphere
“The essential parts of Character;
“And, as the Mistress of the Soul,
“Let mild Religion crown the whole:—
121
“To think the very thing we ought;
“And holds up to our solemn view
“What we should shun, and what pursue.
“—O let not Sloth depress to earth
“Those early blossoms in their birth,
“Which to your ripening mind is given,
“To bloom through time, then rise to heaven!
“Awake your nature and expand
“Its powers; with attentive hand
“Prune its Luxuriance; and prepare
“Each branch the expected Fruit to bear.
“But think not in your jovial hours,
“When Riot rules and Reason lours,
“That time is actively employ'd:
“'Tis then, I say, that Time's destroy'd,
“At least, e'en Truth itself may say,
“'Tis wasted, squander'd, thrown away:
“For Folly's vigour and excess
“Is nought but active Idleness.
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“O let not Alma Mater grieve,
“That when her sacred walls you leave,
“The presage sad of ill to come
“Will follow to your native home.
“Let not each reverend Sage rejoice
“He hears no more your clam'rous voice,
“And that a bad example's fled,
“With all its mischief on its head.
“—It is from hence, that to the world
“Learning's rich standard is unfurl'd,
“Which those emblazon'd types displays
“That call on Wisdom's eye to gaze.
“'Tis from this favour'd seat she darts
“Those beams which light the youthful hearts,
“And form, on Truth's propitious plan,
“The virtues of the future man.
“—Forsake then, these untoward ways,
“And once again your virtues raise
“To Alma Mater's honour'd praise;
“That, when you are to manhood grown,
“She may rejoice her Son to own.
“That when her sacred walls you leave,
“The presage sad of ill to come
“Will follow to your native home.
“Let not each reverend Sage rejoice
“He hears no more your clam'rous voice,
“And that a bad example's fled,
“With all its mischief on its head.
“—It is from hence, that to the world
“Learning's rich standard is unfurl'd,
“Which those emblazon'd types displays
“That call on Wisdom's eye to gaze.
“'Tis from this favour'd seat she darts
“Those beams which light the youthful hearts,
“And form, on Truth's propitious plan,
“The virtues of the future man.
“—Forsake then, these untoward ways,
“And once again your virtues raise
“To Alma Mater's honour'd praise;
“That, when you are to manhood grown,
“She may rejoice her Son to own.
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“Fear not the mockery of those,
“Who may with sneers your change expose:
“Employ the wit and lively vein,
“Which oft have gladden'd Folly's train,
“To vindicate the better cause
“Of Reason and her sober Laws.—
“I do not wish you to assume
“Looks darken'd by fanatic gloom:
“Rebuke their taunts who would beguile,
“With gentle words and winning smile;
“And prove, that to be blithe and gay
“Youth is not call'd to go astray.
“Reform then all your Follies past,
“For know, these Counsels are my last:
“But, e'er my warnings I conclude,
“Let me be clearly understood.
“—Were I to rigid Duty just,
“I now should yield my solemn trust:
“What I've long known, and what I see,
“Might ask for that severity.
“But still I've seen a generous heart
“In all your follies bear a part.
“E'en when our mandates you've assail'd,
“No low-bred habits have prevail'd:
“Thus, though with much foreboding fear,
“My anxious hopes still persevere:—
“Nay, while I view thee in thy chair
“And see thee sit and suffer there,
“I think Reflection, back'd by pain,
“May bring thee to thyself again.
“But, Sir, if these my Counsels fail,
“If your wild errors still prevail,
“I must, in sorrow and despair,
“Return you to a Father's care:
“To him my power I shall resign,
“Which, then, shall never more be mine.”
“Who may with sneers your change expose:
“Employ the wit and lively vein,
“Which oft have gladden'd Folly's train,
“To vindicate the better cause
“Of Reason and her sober Laws.—
“I do not wish you to assume
“Looks darken'd by fanatic gloom:
“Rebuke their taunts who would beguile,
“With gentle words and winning smile;
“And prove, that to be blithe and gay
“Youth is not call'd to go astray.
“Reform then all your Follies past,
“For know, these Counsels are my last:
“But, e'er my warnings I conclude,
“Let me be clearly understood.
“—Were I to rigid Duty just,
“I now should yield my solemn trust:
“What I've long known, and what I see,
“Might ask for that severity.
“But still I've seen a generous heart
“In all your follies bear a part.
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“No low-bred habits have prevail'd:
“Thus, though with much foreboding fear,
“My anxious hopes still persevere:—
“Nay, while I view thee in thy chair
“And see thee sit and suffer there,
“I think Reflection, back'd by pain,
“May bring thee to thyself again.
“But, Sir, if these my Counsels fail,
“If your wild errors still prevail,
“I must, in sorrow and despair,
“Return you to a Father's care:
“To him my power I shall resign,
“Which, then, shall never more be mine.”
Parcus Deorum Cultor et infrequens,
Insanientis dum Sapientiæ
Consultus erro; nunc retrorsùm
Vela dare, atque iterare cursus
Cogor relèctos.
Insanientis dum Sapientiæ
Consultus erro; nunc retrorsùm
Vela dare, atque iterare cursus
Cogor relèctos.
—Hor. Lib. 1. Od. 34.
As he rose slowly from his chair,
Seem'd all around him to review—
Then sigh'd—and silently withdrew.
Now Harry, languid sought his bed
With throbbing heart and aching head;—
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Nor pain, nor thought would let him sleep;
Weigh'd well the warnings he receiv'd,
Felt as he ought, and inly griev'd.
—Memory, first, with painful power,
Seiz'd on the penitential hour,
And brought to his reluctant view
Those scenes he now was doom'd to rue.
Then came Reflection, that prepar'd
The mind to make its due award,
And, as its pensive eye it cast
O'er the wild vision of the past,
Brought forward to the grave debate,
The picture of his present state.
But here he practis'd no deceit,
The upbraiding of his thoughts to cheat,
Nor strove to baffle Truth's decree
By any playful sophistry:
Nor did he tempt the prone denial,
Fairly to bring himself to trial.
—Thus as he lay, in studious trance,
He ventur'd, though, with fearful glance,
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O'er hasty time's approaching hours:
His sicken'd Fancy thought he heard
The keen reproach, the angry word
Which stern Affection would proclaim
In a kind Father's hallow'd name:
He thought he saw a Mother's woe
With all the tears he caus'd to flow:
He seem'd to see his sad disgrace
In ev'ry friend's lamenting face;
To the sad change, he look'd with dread
From cheering smiles, to shaking head.
—Reason now came these thoughts to aid,
And, in her Ballance, duly weigh'd
The pleasures that from Duty flow,
And Virtue only can bestow;—
The well-earn'd honour of the name
Which Merit consecrates to Fame;
The Dignity that Knowledge gives;
The noble Pride the mind receives,
When, without vain, assum'd pretence,
It feels a conscious Excellence;
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Which Fashion's Foplings Honour name)
That guards the breast which is endu'd
With a firm sense of Rectitude:
The Promise of ingenuous Youth,
Instructed by the voice of Truth,
Who, proud of honourable praise,
Ne'er in the paths of Error strays;—
Or, if he should, in careless hour,
Comply with Folly's vagrant power,
Soon he the treach'rous impulse spurns,
And to the good he left, returns.
—Thus Reason urg'd within his breast
Of human Qualities the best,
And the strong contrast then exprest.
—Folly, with all its idle train
Of pleasures sure to end in pain;
—Excess, with all its noisy joys,
That Wisdom spurns and Health destroys;
—Spirit, that dares the world defy,
Or sneaks beneath Hypocrisy;
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E'en Virtue's self, if humble born,
And shuts th'inhospitable door
'Gainst the loud cravings of the poor;
Yet still the social hour submits
To flatt'ring knaves and ribbald wits,
And thinks it marks superior taste,
To laugh, to riot, and to waste;—
Calls Prudence meanness, a spare jade,
That Fortune and high birth degrade;
A Hack for toiling Sons of Trade;—
Profusion, which all care disdains,
So that unbounded plenty reigns;
While every sensual delight
May wait on greedy appetite.
—Thus the sick Student travell'd o'er
His present ills, and many more;
And thus, with Reason for his guide,
He weigh'd the Fate that might betide
His way through Life, or short or long,
If his first outset should be wrong.
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He utter'd his Soliloquy.
“Have I not heard the voice of Truth
“Calmly address my thoughtless Youth?
“Have I not been by wisdom told,
“That Virtue's better far than gold?
“And, while I feel the Fever's heat
“In all my throbbing pulses beat,
“Need I demand, if wild excess
“Is not a foe to happiness,
“Which, surely, ne'er regales its guests
“With wanton songs and sensual feasts.
“Vain, how vain's the power of wealth,
“Comfort to give, if void of Health;
“Nor is it Age alone, but Youth,
“As I now feel, confirms the Truth:—
“Yes, I experience, to my cost,
“In losing Health, what I have lost;
“And how my Reason went astray
“When I threw such a Gem away.
“And where's the gain:—What has repaid
“The wanton Sacrifice I've made?
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“Have they secured one real friend;
“Or will Affection e'er apply
“Its charm to prodigality?
“I cannot now my mind deceive,
“As for a moment to believe
“That friends are found amid the joys
“Of jovial Riot's frantic noise.
“Now that so faint and weak I lay
“To painful vigilance a prey;
“When the grave Doctor shakes his head,
“And the Nurse grumbles round my bed;
“While nauseous draughts, from hour to hour
“I down my burning gullet pour,
“Is one of my Associates heard,
“With aspect kind or cheering word,
“To sooth my pain, or to beguile
“Sad thoughts with an endearing smile?
“No friendly rap salutes my door,
“Nor shall I hear or see them more,
“Till Health may my weak frame restore,
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“Of jovial feats and frolic pleasures.
“But if this weak and sickly hour
“Has not robb'd Reason of its power,
“If, by my languors unsubdu'd,
“I still can purpose what is good,
“If I can resolutions make
“Which future Folly will not shake,
“No more I'll blend with such a throng
“As have enchanted me too long
“With Circe's cup and Syren song.
“May angry Heaven ne'er forgive
“My errors past—nor while I live,
“Regard me with benignant care,
“But leave me to extreme despair;
“If, when the turbid ferment o'er,
“The Fever's fury burns no more;
“When my pale cheek begins to show
“Returning Health's enliv'ning glow,
“And pure blood, passing from the heart,
“May strength to ev'ry limb impart;—
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“And He and I are friends again;
“If ever I yield up my soul
“To the same Folly's mad controul,
“Which has of late my nature chang'd
“And from its better course estrang'd:—
“I my most solemn wish avow,
“And to the awful sentence bow,
“That the fair prospects which display
“Their beauties in Life's future way
“May form a dismal clouded scene
“Without a hope to intervene;
“Nor one enlivening ray appear
“The dark and dreary way to cheer.
“—No, if my heart was ever true
“To any wish it had in view;
“My purpose is not fix'd in vain:—
“Harry, shall be himself again!—”
But here suspicious tongues might quote
A proverb we all know by rote:
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“But when got well—no Monk was he.”
Thus Henry sick, his vow preferr'd,
But what is more, he kept his word,
When health was to his wish restor'd.
No longer now he pass'd the day
In saunt'ring chat or lounging play;
No longer did his nights supply
The Feast, till Phœbus lights the sky.
Again he seeks the Muses' hill,
And from Heliconian rill
Quaffs the pure beverage that inflames
With nobler wish and higher aims:
And, while he courts the sacred Muse,
Again with Classic Zeal renews,
His former friendship with those sages
Who stampt renown on former ages.
'Tis now his unremitting pride
All wild vagaries to deride:
He bends his will to Reason's rein,
And Harry is himself again.
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And by the studious Youth belov'd,
At length he bids adieu to College,
With honour'd name and store of knowledge,
And feels his full reward, when press'd
To an applauding Father's breast.
The Youth, now verging into Man,
Demands a more extended plan:
The Student's closet now must yield
To the world's wide, luxuriant field,
Where all the stores of Learning's page
Which time has heap'd through many an age,
Form the Material which supplies
The Base whereon is seen to rise,
By various art and skill refin'd,
The higher structure of the mind.
Behold with ev'ry page unfurl'd,
The cumbrous volume of the world
Prepares for the astonish'd eye,
Its vast, profuse variety:
135
Hard to be rightly understood,
With all the busy, wayward strife
That forms the motley scene of Life.
But here the Episode appears,
Mix'd up of laughter, and of tears,
And with its pleasure and its woe,
Most difficult of all to know,
The science of the human heart
Which Wisdom only can impart;
That Wisdom which experience gives,
And he has most who longest lives:
That Science which when once attain'd
The first great end of Life is gain'd,
And, when by Reason well employ'd,
The real end of Life's enjoy'd.
—To baffle the sagacious cheat,
To pierce the well-disguis'd deceit,
To ken the merit unreveal'd
Which cautious modesty conceal'd;
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With which each human Act's imbued;
The cause of Virtue to defend,
To deprecate each vicious end,
Nor make a foe, nor lose a friend:
Such knowledge is more precious far
Than all other treasures are;
And he who travels far and near,
Who seeks beneath each hemisphere,
If he but find it, is repaid
For the long Journey he has made.
Our Henry now no more delays
To mix with men and see their ways.
What he will gain, what he will know
In the large round he's doom'd to go
Some future tell-tale verse will show.
Soon he will join the busy throng,
Soon to the croud of Life belong:—
There cities raise their lofty towers,
And pleasure blooms in fragrant bowers;
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And shapes its course a thousand ways;
And, crown'd with Joys or bent with cares,
He'll view the nature which he shares:
Where, to be brief, his mind will scan
The whole variety of Man:
And, if his mental eyes discern
Things as they are, he soon will learn
The sacred Law, by Heav'n design'd,—
That Man is made for all Mankind.
| CHAPTER IV. YOUTH. The Dance of Life | |