Occasional Poems Translations, Fables, Tales, &c. By William Somervile |
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| II. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. | FABLE XIV. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | Occasional Poems |  |
220
FABLE XIV.
The Fortune-Hunter.
Fortuna sævo læta negotio
Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax
Transmut at incertos honores.
Hor.
Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax
Transmut at incertos honores.
Hor.
CANTO I.
Some Authors more Abstruse than Wise,
Friendship confine to stricter Ties,
Require exact Conformity,
In Person, Age, and Quality;
Their Humours, Principles, and Wit,
Must, like Exchequer Tallies, hit.
Others less scrupulous, opine
That Hands, and Hearts, in Love may join,
Tho' diff'rent Inclinations sway,
For Nature's more in fault than they.
Who e'er would sift this Point more fully,
May read St. Evremond and Tully;
With me the Doctrine shall prevail
That's à propos to form my Tale.
Friendship confine to stricter Ties,
Require exact Conformity,
In Person, Age, and Quality;
Their Humours, Principles, and Wit,
Must, like Exchequer Tallies, hit.
Others less scrupulous, opine
That Hands, and Hearts, in Love may join,
221
For Nature's more in fault than they.
Who e'er would sift this Point more fully,
May read St. Evremond and Tully;
With me the Doctrine shall prevail
That's à propos to form my Tale.
Two Brethren (whether Twins or no
Imports not very much to know)
Together bred; as fam'd their Love
As Leda's Brats begot by Jove:
As various too their Tempers were,
That brisk, and frolick, debonair,
This more considerate, and severe.
While Bob, with diligence would pore
And con by heart his Battle-door,
Frank plaid at Romps with John the Groom,
Or switch'd his Hobby round the Room.
The Striplings now too bulky grown,
To make dirt Pies, and lounge at home,
With akeing Hearts to School are sent,
Their Humours still of various bent:
The silent, serious, solid Boy,
Came on apace, was Daddy's joy,
Constru'd, and pars'd, and said his Part,
And got Quæ-genus all by heart.
While Panky, that unlucky Rogue,
Fell in with ev'ry Whim in vogue,
Valu'd not Lilly of a straw,
A Rook at Chuck, a Dab at Taw.
His Bum was often brush'd, you'll say,
'Tis true, now twice, then thrice a day:
So Leeches at the Breech are fed,
To cure Vertigo's in the Head.
But by your leave, good Doctor Friend,
Let me this Maxim recommend;
A Genius can't be forc'd; nor can
You make an Ape an Alderman:
The patchwork Doublet well may suit,
But how would Furs become the Brute?
In short, the Case is very plain,
When Maggots once are in the Brain
Whole Loads of Birch are spent in vain.
Imports not very much to know)
Together bred; as fam'd their Love
As Leda's Brats begot by Jove:
As various too their Tempers were,
That brisk, and frolick, debonair,
This more considerate, and severe.
While Bob, with diligence would pore
And con by heart his Battle-door,
Frank plaid at Romps with John the Groom,
Or switch'd his Hobby round the Room.
222
To make dirt Pies, and lounge at home,
With akeing Hearts to School are sent,
Their Humours still of various bent:
The silent, serious, solid Boy,
Came on apace, was Daddy's joy,
Constru'd, and pars'd, and said his Part,
And got Quæ-genus all by heart.
While Panky, that unlucky Rogue,
Fell in with ev'ry Whim in vogue,
Valu'd not Lilly of a straw,
A Rook at Chuck, a Dab at Taw.
His Bum was often brush'd, you'll say,
'Tis true, now twice, then thrice a day:
So Leeches at the Breech are fed,
To cure Vertigo's in the Head.
But by your leave, good Doctor Friend,
Let me this Maxim recommend;
223
You make an Ape an Alderman:
The patchwork Doublet well may suit,
But how would Furs become the Brute?
In short, the Case is very plain,
When Maggots once are in the Brain
Whole Loads of Birch are spent in vain.
Now to pursue this hopeful Pair
To Oxford, and the Lord knows where,
Wou'd take more Ink than I can spare.
Nor shall I here minutely score
The Volumes Bob turn'd o'er, and o'er,
The Laundresses turn'd up by Frank,
With many a strange diverting Prank;
Twou'd jade my Muse, tho' better fed,
And kept in Body-cloaths, and Bread.
To Oxford, and the Lord knows where,
Wou'd take more Ink than I can spare.
Nor shall I here minutely score
The Volumes Bob turn'd o'er, and o'er,
The Laundresses turn'd up by Frank,
With many a strange diverting Prank;
Twou'd jade my Muse, tho' better fed,
And kept in Body-cloaths, and Bread.
When Bristles on each Chin began
To sprout, the Promise of a Man,
The good old Gentleman expir'd,
And decently to Heav'n retir'd:
The Brethren at their Country Seat,
Enjoy'd a pleasant, snug Retreat;
Their Cellars, and their Barns well stor'd,
And Plenty smoaking on their Board:
Ale and Tobacco for the Vicar,
For Gentry sometimes better Liquor.
Judicious Bob had read all o'er
Each weighty stay'd Philosopher,
And therefore rightly understood
The Real from th' Apparent Good;
Substantial Bliss, intrinsick Joys,
From Bustle, Vanity, and Noise;
Cou'd his own Happiness create,
And bring his Mind to his Estate:
Liv'd in the same calm, easy Round,
His Judgment clear, his Body sound;
Good Humour, Probity, and Sense,
Repay'd with Peace, and Indolence:
While Rakeish Frank, whose active Soul,
No Bounds, no Principles controul,
Flies o'er the World where Pleasure calls,
To Races, Masquerades, and Balls;
At random roves, now here, now there,
Drinks with the Gay, and Toasts the Fair.
As when the full-fed, resty Steed
Breaks from his Groom, he flies with speed;
His high-arch'd Neck he proudly rears,
Upon his Back his Tayl he bears,
His Main upon his Shoulders curls,
O'er ev'ry Precipice he whirls,
He plunges in the cooling Tides,
He laves his shining pamper'd Sides,
He snuffs the Females on the Plain,
And to his Joy he springs amain,
To this, to that, impetuous flies,
Nor can the Stud his Lust suffice;
'Till Nature flags, his Vigour spent,
With dropping Tayl, and Nerves unbent,
The humble Beast returns content,
Waits tamely at the Stable Door,
As tractable as e'er before.
This was exactly Panky's Case;
When Blood ran high he liv'd apace,
But Pockets drain'd, and ev'ry Vein,
Look'd silly, and came home again.
At length Extravagance, and Vice,
Whoring, and Drinking, Box and Dice,
Sunk his Exchequer, Cares intrude,
And Duns grow troublesome and rude.
What Measures shall poor Panky take
To manage wisely the last Stake,
With some few Pieces in his Purse,
And half a dozen Brats at Nurse?
Pensive he walk'd, lay long a-bed,
Now bit his Nails, then scratch'd his Head,
At last resolv'd: Resolv'd! on what?
There's not a Penny to be got;
The Question now remains alone,
Whether 'tis best to hang, or drown.
Thank you for that, good friendly Devil,
You're very courteous, very civil;
Other Expedients may be try'd,
The Man is young, the World is wide,
And as judicious Authors say,
Every Dog shall have his Day;
What if we ramble for a while?
Seek Fortune out, and court her Smile,
Act ev'ry part in Life to win her,
First try the Saint, and then the Sinner;
Press boldly on, slighted, pursue;
Repuls'd, again the Charge renew;
Give her no rest, attend, intreat,
And stick at nothing to be Great.
Fir'd with these Thoughts, the Youth grew vain,
Look'd on the Country with disdain;
Where Vertue's Fools her Laws obey,
And dream a lazy Life away;
Thinks Poverty the greatest Sin,
And walks on Thorns 'till he begin:
But first before his Brother laid
The hopeful Scheme, and begg'd his Aid.
Kind Bob was much abash'd to see
His Brother in extremity,
Reduc'd to Rags for want of Thought,
A Beggar, and not worth a Groat.
He griev'd full sore, gave good Advice,
Quoted his Authors grave and wise,
All who with wholesome Morals treat us,
Old Seneca, and Epictetus.
What's my unhappy Brother doing?
Whither rambling? whom pursuing?
An idle, tricking, giddy Jade,
A Phantome, and a fleeting Shade;
Grasp'd in this Coxcomb's Arms a while
The false Jilt fawns, then a fond Smile;
On that she leers, he like the rest,
Is soon a Bubble, and a Jest;
But live with me, just to thy self,
And scorn the Bitch, and all her Pelf;
Fortune's ador'd by Fools alone,
The wise Man always makes his own.
But 'tis, alas! in vain t'apply
Fine Sayings and Philosophy,
Where a poor Youth's o'er-heated Brain,
Is sold to Interest, and Gain,
And Pride, and fierce Ambition reign.
Bob found it so, nor did he strive
To work the Nail that wou'd not drive;
Content to do the best he cou'd,
And as became his Brotherhood,
Gave him what Money he cou'd spare,
And kindly paid his old Arrear,
Bought him his Equipage and Cloaths,
So thus supply'd away he goes,
For London Town he mounts, as gay
As Taylors on their Wedding-day.
To sprout, the Promise of a Man,
224
And decently to Heav'n retir'd:
The Brethren at their Country Seat,
Enjoy'd a pleasant, snug Retreat;
Their Cellars, and their Barns well stor'd,
And Plenty smoaking on their Board:
Ale and Tobacco for the Vicar,
For Gentry sometimes better Liquor.
Judicious Bob had read all o'er
Each weighty stay'd Philosopher,
And therefore rightly understood
The Real from th' Apparent Good;
Substantial Bliss, intrinsick Joys,
From Bustle, Vanity, and Noise;
Cou'd his own Happiness create,
And bring his Mind to his Estate:
Liv'd in the same calm, easy Round,
His Judgment clear, his Body sound;
225
Repay'd with Peace, and Indolence:
While Rakeish Frank, whose active Soul,
No Bounds, no Principles controul,
Flies o'er the World where Pleasure calls,
To Races, Masquerades, and Balls;
At random roves, now here, now there,
Drinks with the Gay, and Toasts the Fair.
As when the full-fed, resty Steed
Breaks from his Groom, he flies with speed;
His high-arch'd Neck he proudly rears,
Upon his Back his Tayl he bears,
His Main upon his Shoulders curls,
O'er ev'ry Precipice he whirls,
He plunges in the cooling Tides,
He laves his shining pamper'd Sides,
He snuffs the Females on the Plain,
And to his Joy he springs amain,
226
Nor can the Stud his Lust suffice;
'Till Nature flags, his Vigour spent,
With dropping Tayl, and Nerves unbent,
The humble Beast returns content,
Waits tamely at the Stable Door,
As tractable as e'er before.
This was exactly Panky's Case;
When Blood ran high he liv'd apace,
But Pockets drain'd, and ev'ry Vein,
Look'd silly, and came home again.
At length Extravagance, and Vice,
Whoring, and Drinking, Box and Dice,
Sunk his Exchequer, Cares intrude,
And Duns grow troublesome and rude.
What Measures shall poor Panky take
To manage wisely the last Stake,
227
And half a dozen Brats at Nurse?
Pensive he walk'd, lay long a-bed,
Now bit his Nails, then scratch'd his Head,
At last resolv'd: Resolv'd! on what?
There's not a Penny to be got;
The Question now remains alone,
Whether 'tis best to hang, or drown.
Thank you for that, good friendly Devil,
You're very courteous, very civil;
Other Expedients may be try'd,
The Man is young, the World is wide,
And as judicious Authors say,
Every Dog shall have his Day;
What if we ramble for a while?
Seek Fortune out, and court her Smile,
Act ev'ry part in Life to win her,
First try the Saint, and then the Sinner;
228
Repuls'd, again the Charge renew;
Give her no rest, attend, intreat,
And stick at nothing to be Great.
Fir'd with these Thoughts, the Youth grew vain,
Look'd on the Country with disdain;
Where Vertue's Fools her Laws obey,
And dream a lazy Life away;
Thinks Poverty the greatest Sin,
And walks on Thorns 'till he begin:
But first before his Brother laid
The hopeful Scheme, and begg'd his Aid.
Kind Bob was much abash'd to see
His Brother in extremity,
Reduc'd to Rags for want of Thought,
A Beggar, and not worth a Groat.
He griev'd full sore, gave good Advice,
Quoted his Authors grave and wise,
229
Old Seneca, and Epictetus.
What's my unhappy Brother doing?
Whither rambling? whom pursuing?
An idle, tricking, giddy Jade,
A Phantome, and a fleeting Shade;
Grasp'd in this Coxcomb's Arms a while
The false Jilt fawns, then a fond Smile;
On that she leers, he like the rest,
Is soon a Bubble, and a Jest;
But live with me, just to thy self,
And scorn the Bitch, and all her Pelf;
Fortune's ador'd by Fools alone,
The wise Man always makes his own.
But 'tis, alas! in vain t'apply
Fine Sayings and Philosophy,
230
Is sold to Interest, and Gain,
And Pride, and fierce Ambition reign.
Bob found it so, nor did he strive
To work the Nail that wou'd not drive;
Content to do the best he cou'd,
And as became his Brotherhood,
Gave him what Money he cou'd spare,
And kindly paid his old Arrear,
Bought him his Equipage and Cloaths,
So thus supply'd away he goes,
For London Town he mounts, as gay
As Taylors on their Wedding-day.
Not many Miles upon the Road,
A Widow's stately Mansion stood;
What if Dame Fortune should be there?
(Said Frank) 'tis ten to one, I swear:
I'll try to find her in the Croud,
She loves the Wealthy and the Proud.
Away he spurs, and at the Door
Stood Gallant Gentry many a score,
Penelope had never more.
Here tortur'd Cats-gut squeals amain,
Guittars in softer Notes complain,
And Lutes reveal the Lover's Pain.
Frank with a careless, easy Mien,
Sung her a Song, and was let in.
The rest with Envy burst, to see
The Stranger's odd Felicity.
Low bow'd the Footman at the Stairs,
The Gentleman at top appears,
And is your Lady, Sir, at home?
Pray walk into the Drawing-Room.
But here my Muse is too well bred,
To prattle what was done, or said;
She lik'd the Youth, his Dress, his Face,
His Calves, his Back, and ev'ry Grace:
Supper was serv'd, and down they sit,
Much Meat, good Wine, some little Wit.
The Grace-Cup drank, or Dance, or Play;
Frank chose the last, was very gay,
Had the good luck the Board to strip,
And punted to her Ladyship.
The Clock strikes One, the Gentry bow'd,
Each to his own Apartment show'd;
But Panky was in piteous mood,
Slept not a Wink; he raves, he dies,
Smit with her Jointure, and her Eyes.
Restless as in a Lion's Den,
He spraul'd, and kick'd about till Ten:
But as he dreamt of future Joys,
His Ear was startled with a Noise,
Six Trumpets, and a Kettle-Drum;
Up in a hurry flies the Groom,
Lord, Sir! get dress'd, the Col'nel's come:
Your Horse is ready at the Door,
You may reach Uxbridge, Sir, by Four.
Poor Panky must in haste remove,
With Disappointment vex'd, and Love;
To Dirt abandon'd, and Despair,
For Lace, and Feather won the Fair.
A Widow's stately Mansion stood;
What if Dame Fortune should be there?
(Said Frank) 'tis ten to one, I swear:
231
She loves the Wealthy and the Proud.
Away he spurs, and at the Door
Stood Gallant Gentry many a score,
Penelope had never more.
Here tortur'd Cats-gut squeals amain,
Guittars in softer Notes complain,
And Lutes reveal the Lover's Pain.
Frank with a careless, easy Mien,
Sung her a Song, and was let in.
The rest with Envy burst, to see
The Stranger's odd Felicity.
Low bow'd the Footman at the Stairs,
The Gentleman at top appears,
And is your Lady, Sir, at home?
Pray walk into the Drawing-Room.
But here my Muse is too well bred,
To prattle what was done, or said;
232
His Calves, his Back, and ev'ry Grace:
Supper was serv'd, and down they sit,
Much Meat, good Wine, some little Wit.
The Grace-Cup drank, or Dance, or Play;
Frank chose the last, was very gay,
Had the good luck the Board to strip,
And punted to her Ladyship.
The Clock strikes One, the Gentry bow'd,
Each to his own Apartment show'd;
But Panky was in piteous mood,
Slept not a Wink; he raves, he dies,
Smit with her Jointure, and her Eyes.
Restless as in a Lion's Den,
He spraul'd, and kick'd about till Ten:
But as he dreamt of future Joys,
His Ear was startled with a Noise,
233
Up in a hurry flies the Groom,
Lord, Sir! get dress'd, the Col'nel's come:
Your Horse is ready at the Door,
You may reach Uxbridge, Sir, by Four.
Poor Panky must in haste remove,
With Disappointment vex'd, and Love;
To Dirt abandon'd, and Despair,
For Lace, and Feather won the Fair.
Now for the Town he jogs apace,
With leaky Boots, and Sun-burnt Face;
And leaving Acton in his Rear,
Began to breathe sulphureous Air.
Arriv'd at length, the Table spread,
Three Bottles drank, he reels to Bed.
Next Morn his busy Thoughts begun,
To rise, and travel with the Sun;
Whims heap'd on Whims, his Head turn'd round,
But how Dame Fortune might be found,
Was the momentous grand Affair,
His secret Wish, his only Care.
Damme, thought Panky to himself,
I'll find this giddy wand'ring Elf;
I'll hunt her out in ev'ry Quarter,
'Till she bestow the Staff, or Garter:
I'll visit good Lord S---d---d,
Who keeps the Jilt at his Command;
Or else some courteous Dutchess may
Take pity on a Run-away.
Dress'd to a Pink, to Court he flies,
At this Levee, and that he plies;
Bows in his Rank, an humble Slave,
And meanly fawns on ev'ry Knave;
With Maids of Honour learns to chat,
Fights for this Lord, and pimps for that.
Fortune he sought from place to place,
She led him still a Wild-Goose Chace;
Always prepar'd with some Excuse,
The hopeful Younker to amuse;
Was busy, indispos'd, was gone
To Hampton-Court, or Kensington;
And after all her Wiles and Dodgings,
She slip'd clear off, and bilk'd her Lodgings.
Jaded, and almost in Despair,
A Gamester whisper'd in his Ear;
Who wou'd seek Fortune, Sir, at Court?
At H---l's is her chief Resort;
'Tis there her Midnight Hours she spends,
Is very gracious to her Friends;
Shows honest Men the Means of thriving,
The best, good-natur'd Goddess living.
Away he trudges with his Rook,
Throws many a Main, is bit, is broke;
With dirty Knuckles, akeing Head,
Disconsolate he sneaks to Bed.
With leaky Boots, and Sun-burnt Face;
And leaving Acton in his Rear,
Began to breathe sulphureous Air.
Arriv'd at length, the Table spread,
Three Bottles drank, he reels to Bed.
Next Morn his busy Thoughts begun,
To rise, and travel with the Sun;
234
But how Dame Fortune might be found,
Was the momentous grand Affair,
His secret Wish, his only Care.
Damme, thought Panky to himself,
I'll find this giddy wand'ring Elf;
I'll hunt her out in ev'ry Quarter,
'Till she bestow the Staff, or Garter:
I'll visit good Lord S---d---d,
Who keeps the Jilt at his Command;
Or else some courteous Dutchess may
Take pity on a Run-away.
Dress'd to a Pink, to Court he flies,
At this Levee, and that he plies;
Bows in his Rank, an humble Slave,
And meanly fawns on ev'ry Knave;
With Maids of Honour learns to chat,
Fights for this Lord, and pimps for that.
235
She led him still a Wild-Goose Chace;
Always prepar'd with some Excuse,
The hopeful Younker to amuse;
Was busy, indispos'd, was gone
To Hampton-Court, or Kensington;
And after all her Wiles and Dodgings,
She slip'd clear off, and bilk'd her Lodgings.
Jaded, and almost in Despair,
A Gamester whisper'd in his Ear;
Who wou'd seek Fortune, Sir, at Court?
At H---l's is her chief Resort;
'Tis there her Midnight Hours she spends,
Is very gracious to her Friends;
Shows honest Men the Means of thriving,
The best, good-natur'd Goddess living.
Away he trudges with his Rook,
Throws many a Main, is bit, is broke;
236
Disconsolate he sneaks to Bed.
CANTO II.
How humble, and how complaisant,Is a proud Man reduc'd to Want!
With what a silly, hanging Face,
He bears his unforeseen Disgrace!
His Spirits flag, his Pulse beats low,
The Gods, and all the World his Foe;
To thriving Knaves a Ridicule,
A Butt to ev'ry wealthy Fool.
For where is Courage, Wit, or Sense,
When a poor Rake has lost his Pence?
Let all the Learn'd say what they can,
'Tis ready Money makes the Man;
Commands Respect where'er we go,
And gives a Grace to all we do.
237
The Horrors of his Soul express'd:
Contempt, the Pasket, and a Jayl,
By turns his restless Mind assail;
Aghast the dismal Scene he flies,
And Death grows pleasing in his Eyes:
For since his Rhino was all flown,
To the last solitary Crown,
Who wou'd not like a Roman dare,
To leave that World he cou'd not share?
The Pistol on his Table lay,
And Death fled hov'ring o'er his Prey;
There wanted nothing now to do,
But touch the Trigger, and adieu.
As he was saying some short Pray'rs,
He heard a wheezing on his Stairs,
And looking out, his Aunt appears;
238
To see her graceless Godson came:
The Salutations being past,
Coughing, and out of Wind, at last
In his great Chair she took her Place,
How does your Brother? Is my Niece
Well marry'd? When will Robin settle?
He answer'd all things to a Tittle;
Gave such Content in ev'ry part,
He gain'd the good old Beldam's Heart.
“Godson, (said she) alas! I know
“Matters with you are but so so:
“You're come to Town I understand,
“To make your Fortune out of hand;
“Your Time, and Patrimony lost,
“To beg a Place, or buy a Post.
“Believe me, Godson, I'm your Friend;
“Of this great Town, this wicked End
239
“The Sink of Sin, and Hell compleat.
“In ev'ry Street of Trulls a Troop,
“And ev'ry Cook-Wench wears a Hoop;
“Sodom was less deform'd with Vice,
“Lewdness of all kinds, Cards, and Dice.”
Frank blush'd: (which, by the way, was more
Than ever he had done before)
And own'd it was a wretched Place,
Unfit for any Child of Grace.
The good old Aunt o'er-joy'd to see
These Glimmerings of Sanctity;
“My Dear (said she) this Purse is yours,
“It cost me many painful Hours;
“Take it, improve it, and become
“By Art and Industry a Plumb.
“But leave, for shame, this impious Street,
“All over mark'd with cloven Feet;
240
“Where both your Soul and Stock may thrive;
“Where righteous Citizens repair,
“And Heav'n, and Earth, the Godly share,
“Gain this by Jobbing, that by Pray'r.
“At Jonathan's go smoke a Pipe,
“Look very serious, dine on Tripe;
“Get early up, late close your Eyes,
“And leave no Stone unturn'd to rise;
“Then each good Day at Salter's-Hall
“Pray for a Blessing upon all.”
Lowly the ravish'd Panky bows,
While Joy sat smiling on his Brows;
And without scruple, in a trice,
He took her Money, and Advice.
Not an extravagant young Heir,
Beset with Duns, and in Despair,
When joyful Tidings reach his Ear,
241
To leave his Chink to better Hands;
Not wand'ring Sailors almost lost,
When they behold the wish'd-for Coast;
Not Culprit when the Knot is plac'd,
And kind Reprieve arrives in haste;
E'er felt a Joy in such excess,
As Frank reliev'd from this Distress.
A thousand Antick Tricks he play'd,
The Purse he kiss'd, swore, curs'd, and pray'd;
Counted the Pieces o'er and o'er,
And hugg'd his unexpected Store;
Built stately Castles in the Air,
Supp'd with the Great, enjoy'd the Fair;
Pick'd out his Title, and his Place,
Was scarce contented with Your Grace.
Strange Visions working in his Head,
Frantick, half mad, he stroles to bed;
Sleeps little, if he sleeps, he dreams
Of Scepters, and of Diadems.
242
“Trick and deceive me as of yore:
“This Passport shall admittance gain,
“In spight of all the Jilt's Disdain:
“'Tis this the Tyrant's Pride disarms,
“And brings her blushing to my Arms;
“This golden Bough my Wish shall speed,
“And to th' Elysian Fields shall lead.”
The Morn scarce peep'd, but up he rose,
Impatient, huddled on his Clothes;
Call'd the next Coach, gave double Pay,
And to Change-Alley whirl'd away.
'Tis here Dame Fortune ev'ry day
Opens her Booth, and shows her Play;
Here laughing sits behind the Scene,
Dances her Puppets here unseen,
And turns her whimsical Machine.
Powel, with all his Wire and Wit,
To her great Genius must submit:
243
And Fame aloud her Trumpet blows;
Harangues the Mob, with Shams, and Lyes,
And bids their Actions fall, or rise.
Old Chaos here his Throne regains,
And here in odd Confusion reigns;
All Order, all Distinction lost,
Now high, now low, the Fools are tost.
Here lucky Coxcombs vainly rear
Their giddy Heads, there in Despair
Sits humbled Pride, with down-cast Look,
Bankrupts restor'd, and Misers broke,
Strange Figures here our Eyes invade,
And the whole World in Masquerade;
A Carman in a Hat and Feather,
A Lord in Frize, his Breeches Leather:
Tom Whiplash in his Coach of State,
Drawn by the Tits he drove of late:
A Col'nel of the bold Train-Bands,
Selling his Equipage, and Lands.
244
For the Gold-Chain, and next L---d Mayor:
A Butcher blust'ring in the Croud,
Of his late purchas'd 'Scutcheon proud,
Retains his Cleaver for his Crest,
His Motto too beneath the rest,
Virtue, and Merit is a Jest.
Two Toasts with all their Trinkets gone,
Padding the Streets for Half-a-Crown:
A daggled Countess, and her Maid,
Her House-Rent, and her Slaves unpaid,
A Taylor's Wife in rich Brocade.
All Sects, all Partys, high, and low,
At Fortune's Shrine devoutly bow;
Nought can their ardent Zeal restrain,
Where each Man's Godliness is Gain.
From Taverns, Meeting-Houses, Stews,
Atheists, and Quakers, Bawds, and Jews,
Statesmen, and Fidlers, Beaux, and Porters,
Blue Aprons here, and there blue Garters.
245
From Stones, and Clods, transform'd to Man,
So, from each Dunghil, strange Surprize!
In Troops the recent Gentry rise,
Of Mushroom Growth, they wildly stare,
And Ape the Great with aukward Air:
So Pinkethman upon the Stage,
Mounting his Ass in warlike Rage,
With simp'ring Dicky for his Page,
In Lee's mad Rant, with Monkey Face,
Burlesques the Prince of Ammon's Race.
Industrious Frank, among the rest,
Bought, sold, and cavill'd, baul'd, and press'd;
Lodg'd in a Garret on the spot,
Follow'd Instructions to a jot,
The praying Part alone forgot.
Learnt ev'ry dealing Term of Art,
And all th' ingenious Cant by heart;
Nor doubted but he soon should find
Dame Fortune complaisant, and kind.
246
But still she vanish'd in the Croud;
Now with smooth Looks, and tempting Smiles,
The faithless Hypocrite beguiles;
Then with a cool, and scornful Air,
Bids the deluded Wretch despair;
Takes pet without the least pretence,
And wonders at his Insolence.
Thus with her fickle Humours vex'd,
And between Hopes, and Fears perplex'd;
His Patience quite worn out, at last
Resolves to throw one desperate Cast.
“'Tis vain (said he) to whine and wooe,
“'Tis one brisk Stroke the Work must do.
“Fortune is like a Widow won,
“And truckles to the Bold alone;
“I'll push at once, and venture all,
“At least, I shall with Honour fall.”
But curse upon the treach'rous Jade,
Who thus his Services repaid;
247
He bought a Bear, and was undone.
CANTO III.
As there is something in a Face,An Air, and a peculiar Grace,
Which boldest Painters cannot trace;
That more than Features, Shape, or Hair,
Distinguishes the happy Fair;
Strikes ev'ry Eye, and makes her known
A ruling Toast thro' all the Town:
So in each Action 'tis Success
That gives it all its Comeliness;
Guards it from Censure, and from Blame,
Brightens, and burnishes our Fame.
For what is Virtue, Courage, Wit,
In all Men, but a lucky Hit?
But, vice versâ, where this fails,
The wisest Conduct nought avails;
248
The World to prosp'rous Knaves inclin'd,
Himself the last of all Mankind.
Too true (poor Frank) this Thesis found,
Bankrupt, despoil'd, and run aground,
In Durance vile detain'd, and lost,
And all his mighty Projects crost:
With Grief and Shame at once opprest,
Tears swell his Eyes, and Sighs his Breast;
A poor, forlorn, abandon'd Rake,
Where shall he turn? what Measures take?
Betray'd, deceiv'd, and ruin'd quite,
By his own greedy Appetite;
He mourns his fatal Lust of Pelf,
And curses Fortune, and himself:
In Limbo pent would fain get free,
Importunate for Liberty.
So when the watchful hungry Mouse,
At midnight proling round the House,
Winds in a Corner toasted Cheese,
Glad the luxurious Prey to seize;
249
He meditates the luscious Prize,
Till caught, trapann'd, laments too late
The rigorous Decrees of Fate:
Restless his Freedom to regain,
He bites the Wire, and climbs in vain.
The wretched Captive thus distress'd,
His busy Thoughts allow no rest:
Fond on each Project to depend,
Kind Hope, his only Faithful Friend;
Odd Whimsys floating in his Brain,
He plots, contrives, but all in vain,
Approves, rejects, and thinks again.
As when the shipwreck'd Wretch is tost
From Wave to Wave, and almost lost,
Beat by the Billows from the Shore,
Returns half drown'd, and hugs once more
The friendly Plank he grasp'd before:
So Frank, when all Expedients fail,
To save his Carcase from the Jayl,
250
And almost sinking in Despair,
Resolves once more to make his Court
To his old Aunt, his last Resort:
Takes Pen in Hand, now writes, now tears,
Then blots his Paper with his Tears,
Ransacks his troubled Soul, to raise
Each tender Sentiment, and Phrase;
And ev'ry lame Excuse supplies
With artful Col'ring, and Disguise;
Kind to himself, lays all the blame
On Fortune, that Capricious Dame:
In short, informs her all was lost,
And sends it by the Penny-post.
Soon as the antient Nymph had read
The Fatal Scroll, she took her Bed,
Cold Palsies seize her trembling Head;
She groans, she sighs, she sobs, she smears
Her Spectacles, and Beard, with Tears;
251
With all th' O'erflowings of her Eyes,
Adown in Pearly Drops distils,
Th' united Stream each Chasm fills.
Geneva now, nor Nants will do,
Her Toothless Gums their hold let go;
And on the Ground, O fatal Stroke!
The short coæval Pipe is broke;
With Vapours choak'd, entranc'd she lies,
B---l---s, and prays, and f---ts, and dies.
But Sleep, that kind Restorative,
Recall'd her Soul, and bid her live;
With cooler Thoughts the Case she weigh'd,
And brought her Reason to her Aid.
Away she hobbles, and with speed
Resolves to see the Captive freed;
Wipe off this Stain, and foul Disgrace,
And vindicate her antient Race.
With her a Sage Director comes,
More weighty than a Brace of Plumbs,
252
Where Cash, not Morals, makes the Saint.
T'improve a Genius so polite,
The clumsy Thing was dubb'd a Knight:
Fortune's chief Confident, and Friend,
Grown fat by many a Dividend;
And still her Favour he retains,
By want of Merit, and of Brains;
On her top Spoke sublime he sits,
The Jest, and Theme of sneering Wits:
For Fools in Fortune's Pill'ry plac'd,
Are mounted to be more disgrac'd.
This rich old Hunks, as Woodcock wise,
Was call'd the Younker to advise:
“Young Man (said he) refrain from Tears,
“While joyful Tydings bless thine Ears;
“Up, and be doing, Boy, and try
“To conquer Fate by Industry;
“For know that all of Mortal Race,
“Are born to Losses and Disgrace:
253
“A Taylor despicably poor,
“In ev'ry Hole for shelter crept,
“On the same Bulk, botch'd, lous'd, and slept,
“With scarce one Penny to prepare
“A friendly Halter in Despair;
“My Credit like my Garment torn,
“Thread bare, and ragged, over-worn:
“But soon I patch'd it up again,
“These busy Hands, this working Brain,
“Ne'er ceas'd from Labour, Pain and Sweat,
“'Till Fortune smil'd, and I was Great.
“Now at each pompous City Feast,
“Who but Sir Tristram? ev'ry Guest
“Respectful bows. In each Debate,
“My Nod must give the Sentence weight:
“On me prime Ministers attend,
“And --- and A---by's my Friend:
“In Embrio each bold Project lies,
“'Till my consenting Purse supplies.
254
“Soften'd the Swede, and humbled Spain.
“To me, the Fair whom all adore,
“Address their Pray'rs, and own my Pow'r;
“When the poor Toast by Break of Day,
“Has punted all her Gold away,
“Undress'd, and in her native Charms,
“She flies to these indulgent Arms;
“She curls each Dimple in her Face
“To win the good Sir Tristram's Grace;
“Offers her Brilliants with a Smile,
“That might an Anchoret beguile,
“And when my potent Aid is lent,
“Away the Dear One wheels content.
“He that can Money get, my Boy,
“Shall ev'ry other Good enjoy;
“Be rich, and ev'ry Boon receive,
“That Man can wish, or Heav'n can give.
“Now to the means (dear Youth) attend,
“By which thy Sorrows soon shall end:
255
“Her hopeful Godson out of Jayl;
“But what is Freedom to the Poor?
“The Man, who begs from Door to Door
“Is Free, in lazy Wretchedness
“He lives, 'till Heav'n his Substance bless;
“But having learnt to Cog, and Chouse,
“To cut a Purse, or break a House,
“Then soon he mends his old Apparel,
“Eats boil'd, and roast, and taps his Barrel;
“Drinks double Bub, with all his might,
“And hugs his Doxy ev'ry Night:
“Thy sprightly Genius ne'er shall lie
“Depress'd by Want, and Penury;
“Go, with a prosp'rous merry Gale,
“To the South Seas advent'rous sail;
“Fat Plenty dwells on those rich Shores,
“Abundance opens all her Stores;
“Ingots, and Pearls, for Beads are sold,
“And Rivers glide on Sands of Gold;
256
“Smile on the Fields, and bless the Land;
“The Swains unlabour'd Harvests reap,
“Fountains run Wine, and Whores are cheap.
“Fortune is always true and kind,
“Nor veers, as here, with ev'ry Wind;
“Not as in these penurious Isles,
“Retails her Blessings, and her Smiles;
“But deals by wholesale with her Friends,
“And gluts them with her Dividends.
“Then haste, set sail, the Ship's unmoor'd
“And waits to take thee now on board.”
The Youth o'er-joy'd this Project hears,
From his Flock-Bed his Head he rears,
And waters all his Rags with Tears.
In short, he took his Friend's Advice,
Pack'd up his Baggage in a trice;
Dancing for Joy, on board he flew,
With all Potosi in his view.
257
CANTO IV.
Behold the Youth just now set free
On Land, immur'd again at Sea;
Stow'd with his Cargo in the Hold,
In quest of other Worlds for Gold.
He who so late regal'd at ease,
On Oleos, Soups, and Fricassees;
Drank with the Witty, and the Gay,
Sparkling Champaign, and rich Tokay;
Now breaks his Fast with Suffolk Cheese,
And bursts at Noon with Pork and Pease;
Instead of Wine, content to sip,
With noisy Tarrs, their nauseous Flip:
Their Breath with chaw'd Mundungus sweet,
Their Jests more fulsome than their Meat.
While Thunder rolls, and Storms arise,
He snoring in his Hammock lies;
In Golden Dreams enjoys the Night,
And counts his Bags with vast Delight.
Mountains of Gold erect his Throne,
Each precious Gem is now his own;
Kind Jove descends in golden Sleet,
Pactolus murmurs at his Feet;
The Sea gives up its hoarded Store,
Possessing all, he covets more.
O Gold! attractive Gold! in vain
Honour and Conscience wou'd restrain
Thy boundless universal Reign.
To thee each stubborn Virtue bends,
The Man oblig'd betrays his Friends;
The Patriot quits his Country's Cause,
And sells her Liberty and Laws:
The Pious Prude's no longer nice,
And ev'n Lawn Sleeves can flatter Vice.
At thy too absolute Command,
Thy Zealots ransack Sea, and Land:
Where'er thy Beams their Pow'r display,
The swarming Insects haste away,
To basque in thy refulgent Ray.
On Land, immur'd again at Sea;
Stow'd with his Cargo in the Hold,
In quest of other Worlds for Gold.
He who so late regal'd at ease,
On Oleos, Soups, and Fricassees;
Drank with the Witty, and the Gay,
Sparkling Champaign, and rich Tokay;
Now breaks his Fast with Suffolk Cheese,
And bursts at Noon with Pork and Pease;
Instead of Wine, content to sip,
With noisy Tarrs, their nauseous Flip:
Their Breath with chaw'd Mundungus sweet,
Their Jests more fulsome than their Meat.
While Thunder rolls, and Storms arise,
He snoring in his Hammock lies;
In Golden Dreams enjoys the Night,
And counts his Bags with vast Delight.
258
Each precious Gem is now his own;
Kind Jove descends in golden Sleet,
Pactolus murmurs at his Feet;
The Sea gives up its hoarded Store,
Possessing all, he covets more.
O Gold! attractive Gold! in vain
Honour and Conscience wou'd restrain
Thy boundless universal Reign.
To thee each stubborn Virtue bends,
The Man oblig'd betrays his Friends;
The Patriot quits his Country's Cause,
And sells her Liberty and Laws:
The Pious Prude's no longer nice,
And ev'n Lawn Sleeves can flatter Vice.
At thy too absolute Command,
Thy Zealots ransack Sea, and Land:
Where'er thy Beams their Pow'r display,
The swarming Insects haste away,
To basque in thy refulgent Ray.
259
Now the bold Crew with prosp'rous Wind,
Leave the retreating Land behind;
Fearless they quit their native Shore,
And Albion's Cliffs are seen no more.
Then on the wide Atlantick born,
Their Rigging, and their Tackle torn;
Danger in various Shapes appears,
Sudden Alarms, and shiv'ring Fears.
Here, might some copious Bard dilate,
And show fierce Neptune drawn in state;
While Guards of Tritons clear his way,
And Nereids round his Chariot play;
Then bid the stormy Boreas rise,
And forky Light'ning cleave the Skies;
The Ship nigh found'ring in the Deep,
Or bounding o'er the ridgy Steep:
Describe the Monsters of the Main,
The Phocæ, and their finny Train,
Tornado's, Hurricanes, and Rain,
Spouts, Shoals, and Rocks of dreadful size,
And Pyrates lurking for their Prize;
Amazing Miracles rehearse,
And turn all Dampier into Verse.
My negligent, and humble Muse,
Less ambitious Aims pursues;
Content with more familiar Phrase,
Nor deals in such embroider'd Lays;
Pleas'd if my Rhime just Measure keeps,
And stretch'd at ease my Reader sleeps.
Hibernian Matrons thus of old,
Their soporifick Storys told;
To sleep in vain the Patient strove,
Perplex'd with Business, cross'd in Love;
'Till soothing Tales becalm'd his Breast,
And lull'd his troubled Soul to rest.
Suffice it only to recite,
They drank all Day, they snor'd all Night:
And after many Moons were past,
They made the wish'd-for Shores at last.
Frank with his Cargo in his Hand,
Leap'd joyful on the Golden Strand;
Open'd his Toyshop in the Port,
Trinkets of various Size, and Sort;
Bracelets, and Combs, Bodkins, and Tweezers,
Bath-mettle Rings, and Knives, and Scissers;
And in one lucky Day got more
Than Bubble-Boy in half a score.
For Fortune now no longer coy,
Smile'd on her darling fav'rite Boy;
No longer from his Arms retir'd,
But gave him all his Heart desir'd.
Ah! thoughtless Youth! in time beware,
And shun the treach'rous Harlot's Snare;
The wiser Savages behold,
Who truck not Liberty for Gold;
Proof against all her subtil Wiles,
Regardless of her Frowns, or Smiles;
If frugal Nature wants Supplies,
The Lance, or Dart, unerring flies:
The Mountain Boar their Prey descends,
Or the fat Kid regales their Friends;
The jocund Tribe, from Sun to Sun,
Feast on the Prize their Valour won.
Cease, babbling Muse, thy vain Advice,
'Tis thrown away on Avarice:
Bid hungry Lions quit their Prey,
Or Streams that down the Mountains stray,
Divert their Course, return again,
And climb the Steep from whence they came.
Leave the retreating Land behind;
Fearless they quit their native Shore,
And Albion's Cliffs are seen no more.
Then on the wide Atlantick born,
Their Rigging, and their Tackle torn;
Danger in various Shapes appears,
Sudden Alarms, and shiv'ring Fears.
Here, might some copious Bard dilate,
And show fierce Neptune drawn in state;
While Guards of Tritons clear his way,
And Nereids round his Chariot play;
Then bid the stormy Boreas rise,
And forky Light'ning cleave the Skies;
The Ship nigh found'ring in the Deep,
Or bounding o'er the ridgy Steep:
Describe the Monsters of the Main,
The Phocæ, and their finny Train,
Tornado's, Hurricanes, and Rain,
260
And Pyrates lurking for their Prize;
Amazing Miracles rehearse,
And turn all Dampier into Verse.
My negligent, and humble Muse,
Less ambitious Aims pursues;
Content with more familiar Phrase,
Nor deals in such embroider'd Lays;
Pleas'd if my Rhime just Measure keeps,
And stretch'd at ease my Reader sleeps.
Hibernian Matrons thus of old,
Their soporifick Storys told;
To sleep in vain the Patient strove,
Perplex'd with Business, cross'd in Love;
'Till soothing Tales becalm'd his Breast,
And lull'd his troubled Soul to rest.
Suffice it only to recite,
They drank all Day, they snor'd all Night:
And after many Moons were past,
They made the wish'd-for Shores at last.
261
Leap'd joyful on the Golden Strand;
Open'd his Toyshop in the Port,
Trinkets of various Size, and Sort;
Bracelets, and Combs, Bodkins, and Tweezers,
Bath-mettle Rings, and Knives, and Scissers;
And in one lucky Day got more
Than Bubble-Boy in half a score.
For Fortune now no longer coy,
Smile'd on her darling fav'rite Boy;
No longer from his Arms retir'd,
But gave him all his Heart desir'd.
Ah! thoughtless Youth! in time beware,
And shun the treach'rous Harlot's Snare;
The wiser Savages behold,
Who truck not Liberty for Gold;
Proof against all her subtil Wiles,
Regardless of her Frowns, or Smiles;
If frugal Nature wants Supplies,
The Lance, or Dart, unerring flies:
262
Or the fat Kid regales their Friends;
The jocund Tribe, from Sun to Sun,
Feast on the Prize their Valour won.
Cease, babbling Muse, thy vain Advice,
'Tis thrown away on Avarice:
Bid hungry Lions quit their Prey,
Or Streams that down the Mountains stray,
Divert their Course, return again,
And climb the Steep from whence they came.
Unblest with his ill-gotten Store,
Th' insatiate Youth still craves for more;
To Counsel deaf, t'Examples blind,
Scrapes up whatever he can find.
Now Master of a Vessel grown,
With all the glitt'ring Fraight his own,
To Fortune still he makes his Court,
And coasts along from Port to Port.
Each rolling Tide brings fresh Supplies,
And Heaps on Heaps delight his Eyes.
Thro' Panama's delicious Bay,
The loaded Vessel ploughs her way;
With the rich Fraight oppress'd, she sails,
And summons all the friendly Gales.
Frank on her Deck triumphant stood,
And view'd the calm transparent Flood:
Let Book-learn'd Sots (said he) adore
Th' aspiring Hills that grace thy Shore;
Thy verdant Isles, the Groves that bow
Their nodding Heads, and shade thy Brow;
Thy Face serene, thy gentle Breast,
Where Sirens sing, and Halcyons rest:
Propitious Flood! on me bestow,
The Treasures of thy Depths below;
Which long in thy dark Womb have slept,
From Age to Age securely kept.
Scarce had he spoke, when, strange Surprize!
Th' indignant Waves in Mountains rise,
And Hurricanes invade the Skies;
The Ship against the Shoals was struck,
And in a thousand Pieces broke;
But one poor trusty Plank, to save
Its Owner from the wat'ry Grave:
On this he mounts, is cast on shore,
Half dead, a Bankrupt, as before:
Spiritless, fainting, and alone,
On the bare Beach he makes his Moan.
Then climbs the ragged Rocks, t'explore,
If ought was driving to the Shore,
The poor Remains of all his Store:
With greedy Diligence prepar'd
To save whate'er the Waves had spar'd.
But, oh! the Wretch expects in vain
Compassion from the furious Main;
Men, Goods, are sunk. Mad with Despair
He beat his Breast, he tore his Hair:
Then leaning o'er the craggy Steep,
Look'd down into the boiling Deep;
Almost resolv'd to cast himself,
And perish with his dear, dear Pelf.
Th' insatiate Youth still craves for more;
To Counsel deaf, t'Examples blind,
Scrapes up whatever he can find.
Now Master of a Vessel grown,
With all the glitt'ring Fraight his own,
To Fortune still he makes his Court,
And coasts along from Port to Port.
263
And Heaps on Heaps delight his Eyes.
Thro' Panama's delicious Bay,
The loaded Vessel ploughs her way;
With the rich Fraight oppress'd, she sails,
And summons all the friendly Gales.
Frank on her Deck triumphant stood,
And view'd the calm transparent Flood:
Let Book-learn'd Sots (said he) adore
Th' aspiring Hills that grace thy Shore;
Thy verdant Isles, the Groves that bow
Their nodding Heads, and shade thy Brow;
Thy Face serene, thy gentle Breast,
Where Sirens sing, and Halcyons rest:
Propitious Flood! on me bestow,
The Treasures of thy Depths below;
Which long in thy dark Womb have slept,
From Age to Age securely kept.
264
Th' indignant Waves in Mountains rise,
And Hurricanes invade the Skies;
The Ship against the Shoals was struck,
And in a thousand Pieces broke;
But one poor trusty Plank, to save
Its Owner from the wat'ry Grave:
On this he mounts, is cast on shore,
Half dead, a Bankrupt, as before:
Spiritless, fainting, and alone,
On the bare Beach he makes his Moan.
Then climbs the ragged Rocks, t'explore,
If ought was driving to the Shore,
The poor Remains of all his Store:
With greedy Diligence prepar'd
To save whate'er the Waves had spar'd.
But, oh! the Wretch expects in vain
Compassion from the furious Main;
Men, Goods, are sunk. Mad with Despair
He beat his Breast, he tore his Hair:
265
Look'd down into the boiling Deep;
Almost resolv'd to cast himself,
And perish with his dear, dear Pelf.
CANTO V.
If Heav'n the thriving Trader bless,
What fawning Crouds about him press?
But if he fail, distress'd, and poor,
His Mob of Friends are seen no more:
For all Men hold it meet to fly
Th' infectious Breath of Poverty.
Poor Frank deserted and forlorn,
Curses the Day that he was born:
Each treach'rous Crony hides his Face,
Or starts whene'er he haunts the Place.
His Wealth thus lost, with that his Friends,
On Fortune still the Youth depends:
One Smile (said he) can soon restore
A Bankrupt Wretch, and give him more;
She will not sure refuse her Aid?
Fallacious Hope! for the false Jade
That very day took wing, was flown,
And on her wonted Journey gone,
(Intent her costly Goods to sell)
From Panama to Portobel:
Five hundred Mules her Baggage bear,
And groan beneath the precious Ware,
The Goddess rides sublime in Air;
And hence conveys a fresh supply,
For Pride, Debate, and Luxury.
Frank, when he heard th' unwelcome News,
Like a staunch Hound the Chace pursues,
Takes the same Rout, doubles his speed,
Nor doubts her help in time of need.
What fawning Crouds about him press?
But if he fail, distress'd, and poor,
His Mob of Friends are seen no more:
For all Men hold it meet to fly
Th' infectious Breath of Poverty.
Poor Frank deserted and forlorn,
Curses the Day that he was born:
Each treach'rous Crony hides his Face,
Or starts whene'er he haunts the Place.
His Wealth thus lost, with that his Friends,
On Fortune still the Youth depends:
One Smile (said he) can soon restore
A Bankrupt Wretch, and give him more;
266
Fallacious Hope! for the false Jade
That very day took wing, was flown,
And on her wonted Journey gone,
(Intent her costly Goods to sell)
From Panama to Portobel:
Five hundred Mules her Baggage bear,
And groan beneath the precious Ware,
The Goddess rides sublime in Air;
And hence conveys a fresh supply,
For Pride, Debate, and Luxury.
Frank, when he heard th' unwelcome News,
Like a staunch Hound the Chace pursues,
Takes the same Rout, doubles his speed,
Nor doubts her help in time of need.
O'er the wide Waste, thro' pathless ways,
The solitary Pilgrim strays;
Now on the swampy desart Plain,
Thro' Brakes of Mangroves works with pain;
Then climbs the Hills with many a groan,
And melts beneath the Torrid Zone.
With Berries, and green Plantains, fed,
On the parch'd Earth he leans his Head;
Fainting with Thirst, to Heav'n he cries,
But finds no Stream but from his Eyes.
Ah Wretch! thy vain Laments forbear,
And for a worse Extreme prepare;
Sudden the low'ring Storms arise,
The bursting Thunder rends the Skies,
Aslant the ruddy Light'ning flies;
Darts thro' the Gloom a transient Ray,
And gives a short, but dreadful Day:
With pealing Rain the Woods resound,
Convulsions shake the solid Ground.
Benumb'd with Cold, but more with Fear,
Strange Phantoms to his Mind appear,
The Wolves around him howl for Food,
The rav'nous Tygers hunt for Blood,
And Canibals more fierce than they,
(Monsters who make Mankind their Prey)
Riot, and feast on human Gore,
And still insatiate thirst for more.
Half dead at every Noise he hears,
His Fancy multiplies his Fears;
What e'er he read or heard of old,
What e'er his Nurse or Crusoe told,
Each tragick Scene his Eyes behold:
Things past as present Fear applies,
Their Pains he bears, their Deaths he dies.
The solitary Pilgrim strays;
267
Thro' Brakes of Mangroves works with pain;
Then climbs the Hills with many a groan,
And melts beneath the Torrid Zone.
With Berries, and green Plantains, fed,
On the parch'd Earth he leans his Head;
Fainting with Thirst, to Heav'n he cries,
But finds no Stream but from his Eyes.
Ah Wretch! thy vain Laments forbear,
And for a worse Extreme prepare;
Sudden the low'ring Storms arise,
The bursting Thunder rends the Skies,
Aslant the ruddy Light'ning flies;
Darts thro' the Gloom a transient Ray,
And gives a short, but dreadful Day:
With pealing Rain the Woods resound,
Convulsions shake the solid Ground.
268
Strange Phantoms to his Mind appear,
The Wolves around him howl for Food,
The rav'nous Tygers hunt for Blood,
And Canibals more fierce than they,
(Monsters who make Mankind their Prey)
Riot, and feast on human Gore,
And still insatiate thirst for more.
Half dead at every Noise he hears,
His Fancy multiplies his Fears;
What e'er he read or heard of old,
What e'er his Nurse or Crusoe told,
Each tragick Scene his Eyes behold:
Things past as present Fear applies,
Their Pains he bears, their Deaths he dies.
At length the Sun began to peep,
And gild the Surface of the Deep,
Then on the reeking Moisture fed,
The scatter'd Clouds before him fled,
The Rivers shrunk into their Bed:
Nature revives; the feather'd Throng
Salute the Morning with a Song.
Frank with his Fellow-Brutes arose,
Yet dreaming still he saw his Foes,
Reels to and fro, laments, and grieves,
And starting, doubts if yet he lives.
At last his Spirits mend their pace,
And Hope sat dawning on his Face;
Ev'n such is Human Life (said he)
A Night of Dread, and Misery,
'Till Heav'n relents, relieves our Pain,
And Sun-shine Days return again.
O Fortune! who dost now bestow
Frowning, this bitter Cup of Woe,
Do not thy faithful Slave destroy,
But give th' Alternative of Joy.
Then many a painful step he takes,
O'er Hills and Vales, thro' Woods, and Brakes:
No sturdy desp'rate Buccaneer
E'er suffer'd Hardships more severe.
Stubborn, incorrigibly blind,
No Dangers can divert his Mind;
His tedious Journey he pursues,
At last his Eye transported views
Fair Portobel, whose rising Spires
Inflame his Heart with new Desires.
Secure of Fortune's Grace, he smiles,
And flatt'ring Hope the Wretch beguiles.
Tho' Nature calls for Sleep and Food,
Yet stronger Avarice subdu'd;
Ev'n shameful Nakedness, and Pain,
And Thirst and Hunger plead in vain:
No rest he gives his weary Feet,
Fortune he seeks from Street to Street;
Careful in ev'ry Corner pries,
Now here, now there, impatient flies,
Wherever busy Crouds resort,
The Change, the Market, and the Port;
In vain he turns his Eye-balls round,
Fortune was no where to be found;
The Jilt not many Hours before,
With the Plate Fleet had left the Shore:
Laughs at the cred'lous Fool behind,
And joyful skuds before the Wind.
Poor Frank forsaken on the Coast,
All his fond Hopes at once are lost.
Aghast the swelling Sails he views,
And with his Eye the Fleet pursues,
'Till lessen'd to his weary'd Sight,
It leaves him to Despair, and Night.
So when the faithless Theseus fled
The Cretan Nymph's deserted Bed,
Awak'd, at distance on the Main,
She view'd the prosp'rous perjur'd Swain,
And call'd th' avenging Gods in vain.
Prostrate on Earth till Break of Day
Senseless, and motionless he lay,
'Till Tears at last find out their way;
Gush like a Torrent from his Eyes,
In Bitterness of Soul (he cries)
“O Fortune! now too late I see,
“Too late, alas! thy Treachery.
“Wretch that I am, abandon'd, lost,
“About the World at random tost,
“Whither, oh whither shall I run?
“Sore pinch'd with Hunger, and undone.
“In the dark Mines go hide thy head
“Accurs'd, exchange thy Sweat for Bread,
“Skulk underground, in Earth's dark Womb
“Go Slave, and dig thy self a Tomb:
“There's Gold enough; pernicious Gold!
“To which long since thy Peace was sold;
“Vain helpless Idol! canst thou save
“This shatter'd Carcass from the Grave?
“Restless Disturber of Mankind,
“Canst thou give Health, or Peace of Mind?
“Ah no, deceiv'd the Fool shall be
“Who puts his Confidence in thee.
“Fatally blind, my native Home
“I left, in this rude World to roam;
“O Brother! shall I view no more
“Thy Peaceful Bow'rs? fair Albion's Shore?
“Yes (if kind Heav'n my Life shall spare)
“Some happy Moments yet I'll share,
“In thy delightful blest Retreat,
“With thee contemn the Rich, and Great;
“Redeem my Time mispent, and wait
“'Till Death relieve th' Unfortunate.
And gild the Surface of the Deep,
269
The scatter'd Clouds before him fled,
The Rivers shrunk into their Bed:
Nature revives; the feather'd Throng
Salute the Morning with a Song.
Frank with his Fellow-Brutes arose,
Yet dreaming still he saw his Foes,
Reels to and fro, laments, and grieves,
And starting, doubts if yet he lives.
At last his Spirits mend their pace,
And Hope sat dawning on his Face;
Ev'n such is Human Life (said he)
A Night of Dread, and Misery,
'Till Heav'n relents, relieves our Pain,
And Sun-shine Days return again.
O Fortune! who dost now bestow
Frowning, this bitter Cup of Woe,
Do not thy faithful Slave destroy,
But give th' Alternative of Joy.
270
O'er Hills and Vales, thro' Woods, and Brakes:
No sturdy desp'rate Buccaneer
E'er suffer'd Hardships more severe.
Stubborn, incorrigibly blind,
No Dangers can divert his Mind;
His tedious Journey he pursues,
At last his Eye transported views
Fair Portobel, whose rising Spires
Inflame his Heart with new Desires.
Secure of Fortune's Grace, he smiles,
And flatt'ring Hope the Wretch beguiles.
Tho' Nature calls for Sleep and Food,
Yet stronger Avarice subdu'd;
Ev'n shameful Nakedness, and Pain,
And Thirst and Hunger plead in vain:
No rest he gives his weary Feet,
Fortune he seeks from Street to Street;
Careful in ev'ry Corner pries,
Now here, now there, impatient flies,
271
The Change, the Market, and the Port;
In vain he turns his Eye-balls round,
Fortune was no where to be found;
The Jilt not many Hours before,
With the Plate Fleet had left the Shore:
Laughs at the cred'lous Fool behind,
And joyful skuds before the Wind.
Poor Frank forsaken on the Coast,
All his fond Hopes at once are lost.
Aghast the swelling Sails he views,
And with his Eye the Fleet pursues,
'Till lessen'd to his weary'd Sight,
It leaves him to Despair, and Night.
So when the faithless Theseus fled
The Cretan Nymph's deserted Bed,
Awak'd, at distance on the Main,
She view'd the prosp'rous perjur'd Swain,
And call'd th' avenging Gods in vain.
272
Senseless, and motionless he lay,
'Till Tears at last find out their way;
Gush like a Torrent from his Eyes,
In Bitterness of Soul (he cries)
“O Fortune! now too late I see,
“Too late, alas! thy Treachery.
“Wretch that I am, abandon'd, lost,
“About the World at random tost,
“Whither, oh whither shall I run?
“Sore pinch'd with Hunger, and undone.
“In the dark Mines go hide thy head
“Accurs'd, exchange thy Sweat for Bread,
“Skulk underground, in Earth's dark Womb
“Go Slave, and dig thy self a Tomb:
“There's Gold enough; pernicious Gold!
“To which long since thy Peace was sold;
“Vain helpless Idol! canst thou save
“This shatter'd Carcass from the Grave?
273
“Canst thou give Health, or Peace of Mind?
“Ah no, deceiv'd the Fool shall be
“Who puts his Confidence in thee.
“Fatally blind, my native Home
“I left, in this rude World to roam;
“O Brother! shall I view no more
“Thy Peaceful Bow'rs? fair Albion's Shore?
“Yes (if kind Heav'n my Life shall spare)
“Some happy Moments yet I'll share,
“In thy delightful blest Retreat,
“With thee contemn the Rich, and Great;
“Redeem my Time mispent, and wait
“'Till Death relieve th' Unfortunate.
Adversity, sage useful Guest,
Severe Instructor, but the best;
It is from thee alone we know
Justly to value things below;
Right Reason's ever faithful Friend,
To thee our haughty Passions bend;
Tam'd by thy Rod (poor Frank) at last,
Repents of all his Follies past;
Resign'd, and patient to endure
Those Ills, which Heav'n alone can cure.
With vain Pursuits and Labours worn,
He meditates a quick return,
Longs to revisit yet once more,
Poor Prodigal! his native Shore.
In the next Ship for Britain bound,
Glad Frank a ready Passage found;
Nor Vessel now, nor Fraight his own,
He fears no longer Fortune's Frown;
No Property but Life his Share,
Life a frail Good not worth his Care;
Active and willing to obey,
A merry Mariner and gay,
He hands the Sails, and jokes all day.
At Night no Dreams disturb his Rest,
No Passions riot in his Breast,
For having nothing left to lose,
Sweet and unbroken his Repose:
And now fair Albion's Cliffs are seen,
And Hills with fruitful Herbage green:
His Heart beats quick, the Joy that ties
His falt'ring Tongue bursts from his Eyes.
At length thus hail'd the well-known Land,
And kneeling, kiss'd the happy Strand.
“And do I then draw native Air,
“After an Age of Toil and Care?
“O welcome Parent Isle! no more
“The Vagrant shall desert thy Shore,
“But flying to thy kind Embrace,
“Here end his Life's laborious Race.
So when the Stag, intent to rove,
Quits the safe Park, and shelt'ring Grove,
Tops the high Pale, stroles unconfin'd,
And leaves the lazy Herd behind,
Blest in his happy Change a while,
Corn Fields, and flow'ry Meadows smile,
The pamper'd Beast enjoys the Spoil;
'Till on the next returning Morn,
Alarm'd, he hears the fatal Horn;
Before the staunch, blood-thirsty Hounds,
Panting o'er Hills unknown he bounds,
With Clamour ev'ry Wood resounds:
He creeps the thorny Brakes with pain,
He seeks the distant Stream in vain,
And now, by sad Experience wise,
To his dear Home the Rambler flies;
His old Inclosure gains once more,
And joins the Herd, he scorn'd before.
Severe Instructor, but the best;
It is from thee alone we know
Justly to value things below;
274
To thee our haughty Passions bend;
Tam'd by thy Rod (poor Frank) at last,
Repents of all his Follies past;
Resign'd, and patient to endure
Those Ills, which Heav'n alone can cure.
With vain Pursuits and Labours worn,
He meditates a quick return,
Longs to revisit yet once more,
Poor Prodigal! his native Shore.
In the next Ship for Britain bound,
Glad Frank a ready Passage found;
Nor Vessel now, nor Fraight his own,
He fears no longer Fortune's Frown;
No Property but Life his Share,
Life a frail Good not worth his Care;
Active and willing to obey,
A merry Mariner and gay,
He hands the Sails, and jokes all day.
275
No Passions riot in his Breast,
For having nothing left to lose,
Sweet and unbroken his Repose:
And now fair Albion's Cliffs are seen,
And Hills with fruitful Herbage green:
His Heart beats quick, the Joy that ties
His falt'ring Tongue bursts from his Eyes.
At length thus hail'd the well-known Land,
And kneeling, kiss'd the happy Strand.
“And do I then draw native Air,
“After an Age of Toil and Care?
“O welcome Parent Isle! no more
“The Vagrant shall desert thy Shore,
“But flying to thy kind Embrace,
“Here end his Life's laborious Race.
So when the Stag, intent to rove,
Quits the safe Park, and shelt'ring Grove,
Tops the high Pale, stroles unconfin'd,
And leaves the lazy Herd behind,
276
Corn Fields, and flow'ry Meadows smile,
The pamper'd Beast enjoys the Spoil;
'Till on the next returning Morn,
Alarm'd, he hears the fatal Horn;
Before the staunch, blood-thirsty Hounds,
Panting o'er Hills unknown he bounds,
With Clamour ev'ry Wood resounds:
He creeps the thorny Brakes with pain,
He seeks the distant Stream in vain,
And now, by sad Experience wise,
To his dear Home the Rambler flies;
His old Inclosure gains once more,
And joins the Herd, he scorn'd before.
Nor are his Labours finish'd yet,
Hunger, and Thirst, and Pain and Sweat,
And many a tedious Mile remains,
Before his Brother's House he gains.
Without one Doit his Purse to bless,
Nor very elegant his Dress;
With a tarr'd Jump, a crooked Batt,
Scarce one whole Shoe, and half a Hat;
From Door to Door the Stroler skip'd,
Sometimes reliev'd, but oftner whip'd:
Sun-burnt, and ragged on he fares,
At last the Mansion-House appears,
Timely Relief for all his Cares.
Around he gaz'd, his greedy Sight,
Devours each Object with delight;
Thro' each known Haunt transported roves,
Gay smiling Fields, and shady Groves,
Once conscious of his youthful Loves.
About the Hospitable Gate
Crouds of dejected Wretches wait;
Each day kind Bob's diffusive Hand,
Chear'd and refresh'd the tatter'd Band,
Proud the most God-like Joy to share,
He fed the Hungry, cloath'd the Bare.
Frank amongst these his Station chose,
With Looks revealing inward Woes;
When lo! with Wonder and Surprize,
He saw Dame Fortune in disguise;
He saw, but scarce believ'd his Eyes.
Her fawning Smiles, her tricking Air,
Th' egregious Hypocrite declare;
A Gypsy's Mantle round her spread
Of various Dye, White, Yellow, Red;
Strange Feats she promis'd, clamour'd loud,
And with her Cant amus'd the Croud:
There ev'ry day impatient ply'd,
Push'd to get in, but still deny'd;
For Bob, who knew the subtile Whore,
Thrust the false Vagrant from his Door.
But when the Stranger's Face he view'd,
With no deceitful Tears bedew'd,
His boding Heart began to melt,
And more than usual Pity felt:
He trac'd his Features o'er and o'er,
That spoke him better born, tho' poor,
Tho' cloath'd in Rags, genteel his Mien,
That Face he somewhere must have seen:
Nature at last reveals the Truth,
He knows, and owns the hapless Youth.
Surpriz'd, and speechless, both embrace,
And mingling Tears o'erflow each Face;
'Till Bob, thus eas'd his lab'ring Thought,
And this Instructive Moral taught.
Hunger, and Thirst, and Pain and Sweat,
And many a tedious Mile remains,
Before his Brother's House he gains.
277
Nor very elegant his Dress;
With a tarr'd Jump, a crooked Batt,
Scarce one whole Shoe, and half a Hat;
From Door to Door the Stroler skip'd,
Sometimes reliev'd, but oftner whip'd:
Sun-burnt, and ragged on he fares,
At last the Mansion-House appears,
Timely Relief for all his Cares.
Around he gaz'd, his greedy Sight,
Devours each Object with delight;
Thro' each known Haunt transported roves,
Gay smiling Fields, and shady Groves,
Once conscious of his youthful Loves.
About the Hospitable Gate
Crouds of dejected Wretches wait;
Each day kind Bob's diffusive Hand,
Chear'd and refresh'd the tatter'd Band,
Proud the most God-like Joy to share,
He fed the Hungry, cloath'd the Bare.
278
With Looks revealing inward Woes;
When lo! with Wonder and Surprize,
He saw Dame Fortune in disguise;
He saw, but scarce believ'd his Eyes.
Her fawning Smiles, her tricking Air,
Th' egregious Hypocrite declare;
A Gypsy's Mantle round her spread
Of various Dye, White, Yellow, Red;
Strange Feats she promis'd, clamour'd loud,
And with her Cant amus'd the Croud:
There ev'ry day impatient ply'd,
Push'd to get in, but still deny'd;
For Bob, who knew the subtile Whore,
Thrust the false Vagrant from his Door.
But when the Stranger's Face he view'd,
With no deceitful Tears bedew'd,
His boding Heart began to melt,
And more than usual Pity felt:
279
That spoke him better born, tho' poor,
Tho' cloath'd in Rags, genteel his Mien,
That Face he somewhere must have seen:
Nature at last reveals the Truth,
He knows, and owns the hapless Youth.
Surpriz'd, and speechless, both embrace,
And mingling Tears o'erflow each Face;
'Till Bob, thus eas'd his lab'ring Thought,
And this Instructive Moral taught.
Welcome (my Brother) to my longing Arms,
Here on my Bosom rest secure from Harms;
See Fortune there, that false delusive Jade,
To whom thy Pray'rs, and ardent Vows, were paid;
She (like her Sex) the fond Pursuer flies,
But slight the Jilt, and at thy Feet she dies.
Now safe in Port, indulge thy self on Shore,
Oh tempt the faithless Winds and Seas no more;
Let unavailing Toils, and Dangers past,
Tho' late, this useful Lesson teach at last,
True Happiness is only to be found
In a contented Mind, a Body sound,
All else is Dream, a Dance on Fairy Ground:
While restless Fools, each idle Whim pursue,
And still one Wish obtain'd creates a new,
Like froward Babes, the Toys they have, detest,
While still the newest Trifle pleases best:
Let us (my Brother) rich in Wisdom's store,
What Heaven has lent, enjoy, nor covet more;
Subdue our Passions, curb their saucy Rage,
And to ourselves restore the Golden Age.
Here on my Bosom rest secure from Harms;
See Fortune there, that false delusive Jade,
To whom thy Pray'rs, and ardent Vows, were paid;
She (like her Sex) the fond Pursuer flies,
But slight the Jilt, and at thy Feet she dies.
Now safe in Port, indulge thy self on Shore,
Oh tempt the faithless Winds and Seas no more;
280
Tho' late, this useful Lesson teach at last,
True Happiness is only to be found
In a contented Mind, a Body sound,
All else is Dream, a Dance on Fairy Ground:
While restless Fools, each idle Whim pursue,
And still one Wish obtain'd creates a new,
Like froward Babes, the Toys they have, detest,
While still the newest Trifle pleases best:
Let us (my Brother) rich in Wisdom's store,
What Heaven has lent, enjoy, nor covet more;
Subdue our Passions, curb their saucy Rage,
And to ourselves restore the Golden Age.
| Occasional Poems | |