Neglected Genius A Poem. Illustrating the Untimely And Unfortunate Fate Of Many British Poets; From the Period of Henry the Eighth to the Aera of the Unfortunate Chatterton. Containing Imitations of their Different Styles, &c. &c. By W. H. Ireland |
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IMITATION OF THE STYLE OF
Butler.
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113
IMITATION OF THE STYLE OF Butler.
FOLLY IS SUPPOSED TO ADDRESS HERSELF TO SOLDIERS AND SAILORS, WHOM SHE ENLISTS UNDER HER BANNER.
I'd have friend reader understand,
All such as fight by sea or land;
Whether they gain the victory,
Or turning tail, from battle flee;
Run sculls 'gainst sense so plump contrary,
They're rear'd up at same seminary,
And issue forth spick span from school,
The soldier zany—sailor fool,
Fit lacqueys of the fife and drum,
That urge 'em on to kingdom come:
For all who 'tend Bellona's call,
Must needs expect dead march in Saul.
All such as fight by sea or land;
Whether they gain the victory,
Or turning tail, from battle flee;
Run sculls 'gainst sense so plump contrary,
They're rear'd up at same seminary,
And issue forth spick span from school,
The soldier zany—sailor fool,
Fit lacqueys of the fife and drum,
That urge 'em on to kingdom come:
For all who 'tend Bellona's call,
Must needs expect dead march in Saul.
114
The sons of Mars who curse and swear,
Are under my peculiar care;
From first to last I prove the star,
And shine their goddess tutelar:
But that ye may not want for proof,
And say I strive to skulk aloof;
Dares any this one fact deny,
That soldiers fight they know not why?
And is not he a fool by trade,
Who seeks in coffin to be laid?
Does not my youthful soldier doat
On fine embroider'd scarlet coat,
Which doth my damsels fair amaze,
So riveting on them their gaze,
That they are ever hearts entangling
With love, and practise arch eye-angling?
For, perch'd at window, optics throw
Beams, to catch officers below;
Who upraise glance from 'neath long cock
Of hat—thus giving miss a shock,
As dreadful as when dart did truss
For Mars, the heart of bright Venus.
What girl can view an officer,
And not in bosom feel a stir?
My men of war at love are teasers,
And think themselves so many Cæsars;
'Fore whom no lady can hold out,
But must on summons yield redoubt:
In scull to think of hoarding sense,
Would be but inconvenience;
Thus with the same they do dispense;
Full well assur'd, when in a fray,
Wits would impel to run away;
So firmly to abide th' event,
They never furnish tenement:
Wherefore to fight all soldiers come,
With empty pericranium;
A shield best fitted to defy
Greetings of foe's artillery.
As for those fellows who ne'er roam,
But keep their carcases at home;
In streets of county towns to amble,
And nothing do but wench and gamble:
They merely are a Sunday crew,
That have no useful thing to do.
Now to my tars 'tis fit I speak,
Whose noses none will dare to tweak;
A tribe that prove to Frenchmen gall,
With heads as dense as cannon-ball;
Who scoff at death, tho' far from vicious,
Yet prove in trifles superstitious:
For woe betide that fellow's neck,
That dares to whistle when on deck;
An omen that will tempests court,
And keep the ship from destin'd port.
And there's one story past denying,
I mean the sprite of Dutchman flying;
Which countless mariners have seen,
Dipping huge breech in briny green.
But soft, to war-ship let's compare,
Sailor—and prove resemblance fair.
First, the salt-sea that bark on urges,
Of life are the tempestuous surges;
The chilling winds which furious blow,
All passions of the bosom show;
Next, from his body we may cull
The man of war's huge bulk or hull;
Thirdly, his neck the stem doth show,
The keel's pourtray'd by's back below;
His ribs are planks, his bones are beams,
Gristles are pintles, veins the seams;
Fourthly, his heart doth show hold fast,
His bowels are the true ballast;
To chopping-knives we'll liken teeth,
Stomach's the cook-room plac'd beneath;
Concoction is the cauldron boiling,
And lungs the bellows ever toiling;
Sixthly, when appetite makes stir,
The sauce best suited is hunger:
The deck's his belly, if ye please,
And cabin's close his two kindeys;
His hand and arm none e'er mistook,
Resembling so a ship's can-hook;
For bulk head next I'll take midriff,
While steerage-room's the scull so stiff;
Next, ears the scuttles chief expose,
And eyes display cabin windows:
Seventhly, his mouth the stowage catches,
While lips twain do denote the hatches;
His nostrils gratings are for air,
His chin's the figure head so fair;
The forehead is the upper deck,
Rudder is reason—form'd to check;
The anchor's resolution plain,
And constancy's the sure capstane;
Those noble masts, fore, main, and mizen,
Are faith, hope, charity, so wizen;
Lastly, I must not be forgot,
For folly is the ship's pilot;
Escorting crew, poor pent up souls,
To quick-sands, rocks, and dang'rous shoals;
Leaving their loves to give 'em horns,
And make 'em famous unicorns.
Is't not at sea a glorious sight,
To view my fools engag'd in fight;
When they for honour's sake strive hard,
And one another's fleets bombard;
As if old Nick himself had got 'em,
And stirr'd 'em up to seek the bottom?
To daddy Noah much is due,
Since 'tis to him I owe this crew;
Who boldly ventur'd on the waters,
To save wife, sons, beasts, birds, and daughters;
And thus as deluge he did sail on,
Prov'd that he was a great Deuca-lon.
[OMITTED]
Are under my peculiar care;
From first to last I prove the star,
And shine their goddess tutelar:
But that ye may not want for proof,
And say I strive to skulk aloof;
Dares any this one fact deny,
That soldiers fight they know not why?
And is not he a fool by trade,
Who seeks in coffin to be laid?
Does not my youthful soldier doat
On fine embroider'd scarlet coat,
Which doth my damsels fair amaze,
So riveting on them their gaze,
That they are ever hearts entangling
With love, and practise arch eye-angling?
For, perch'd at window, optics throw
Beams, to catch officers below;
Who upraise glance from 'neath long cock
Of hat—thus giving miss a shock,
115
For Mars, the heart of bright Venus.
What girl can view an officer,
And not in bosom feel a stir?
My men of war at love are teasers,
And think themselves so many Cæsars;
'Fore whom no lady can hold out,
But must on summons yield redoubt:
In scull to think of hoarding sense,
Would be but inconvenience;
Thus with the same they do dispense;
Full well assur'd, when in a fray,
Wits would impel to run away;
So firmly to abide th' event,
They never furnish tenement:
Wherefore to fight all soldiers come,
With empty pericranium;
A shield best fitted to defy
Greetings of foe's artillery.
116
But keep their carcases at home;
In streets of county towns to amble,
And nothing do but wench and gamble:
They merely are a Sunday crew,
That have no useful thing to do.
Now to my tars 'tis fit I speak,
Whose noses none will dare to tweak;
A tribe that prove to Frenchmen gall,
With heads as dense as cannon-ball;
Who scoff at death, tho' far from vicious,
Yet prove in trifles superstitious:
For woe betide that fellow's neck,
That dares to whistle when on deck;
An omen that will tempests court,
And keep the ship from destin'd port.
And there's one story past denying,
I mean the sprite of Dutchman flying;
Which countless mariners have seen,
Dipping huge breech in briny green.
117
Sailor—and prove resemblance fair.
First, the salt-sea that bark on urges,
Of life are the tempestuous surges;
The chilling winds which furious blow,
All passions of the bosom show;
Next, from his body we may cull
The man of war's huge bulk or hull;
Thirdly, his neck the stem doth show,
The keel's pourtray'd by's back below;
His ribs are planks, his bones are beams,
Gristles are pintles, veins the seams;
Fourthly, his heart doth show hold fast,
His bowels are the true ballast;
To chopping-knives we'll liken teeth,
Stomach's the cook-room plac'd beneath;
Concoction is the cauldron boiling,
And lungs the bellows ever toiling;
Sixthly, when appetite makes stir,
The sauce best suited is hunger:
118
And cabin's close his two kindeys;
His hand and arm none e'er mistook,
Resembling so a ship's can-hook;
For bulk head next I'll take midriff,
While steerage-room's the scull so stiff;
Next, ears the scuttles chief expose,
And eyes display cabin windows:
Seventhly, his mouth the stowage catches,
While lips twain do denote the hatches;
His nostrils gratings are for air,
His chin's the figure head so fair;
The forehead is the upper deck,
Rudder is reason—form'd to check;
The anchor's resolution plain,
And constancy's the sure capstane;
Those noble masts, fore, main, and mizen,
Are faith, hope, charity, so wizen;
Lastly, I must not be forgot,
For folly is the ship's pilot;
119
To quick-sands, rocks, and dang'rous shoals;
Leaving their loves to give 'em horns,
And make 'em famous unicorns.
Is't not at sea a glorious sight,
To view my fools engag'd in fight;
When they for honour's sake strive hard,
And one another's fleets bombard;
As if old Nick himself had got 'em,
And stirr'd 'em up to seek the bottom?
To daddy Noah much is due,
Since 'tis to him I owe this crew;
Who boldly ventur'd on the waters,
To save wife, sons, beasts, birds, and daughters;
And thus as deluge he did sail on,
Prov'd that he was a great Deuca-lon.
| Neglected Genius | |