The poetical works of John Nicholson ... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird |
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THE COMMERCE OF BRADFORD. |
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 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
THE COMMERCE OF BRADFORD.
Hail, glorious Commerce! goddess of our isle!
Thou, who hast rais'd her to the tow'ring height
Where, thron'd she sits, the empress of the world,—
Britannia's glory, hail! of thee I sing:
Thou, who with swiftest pinions wing'st thy way
To every distant port throughout the seas,
Then back return'st, with every blessing fraught
The kingdoms of the fruitful earth can yield.
Thou, who hast rais'd her to the tow'ring height
Where, thron'd she sits, the empress of the world,—
Britannia's glory, hail! of thee I sing:
Thou, who with swiftest pinions wing'st thy way
To every distant port throughout the seas,
Then back return'st, with every blessing fraught
The kingdoms of the fruitful earth can yield.
Thou hast a daughter, whose industrious hands
Supply the earth with stuffs of richest hues,
In which are dress'd the sultan and the slave,—
Princes and Kings, Jews, Pagans, Turk, and Priest,
The Indian ladies and the Persian dames,—
Bradford her name, now known throughout the world.
Small was her fame, her trade and wealth were small,
When, from a few thatch'd cottages she rose,
To form a street, the shadow of a town;
But view her now—behold her bursting forth
In far extending streets, majestic built,
Wherein the mould'ring bricks are seldom seen,
While polish'd stones compose her rising walls,
And, speak in silent accents, through our land—
Where Commerce reigns, old England's sons are bless'd!
Supply the earth with stuffs of richest hues,
In which are dress'd the sultan and the slave,—
Princes and Kings, Jews, Pagans, Turk, and Priest,
The Indian ladies and the Persian dames,—
Bradford her name, now known throughout the world.
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When, from a few thatch'd cottages she rose,
To form a street, the shadow of a town;
But view her now—behold her bursting forth
In far extending streets, majestic built,
Wherein the mould'ring bricks are seldom seen,
While polish'd stones compose her rising walls,
And, speak in silent accents, through our land—
Where Commerce reigns, old England's sons are bless'd!
Oh what a change in this most favour'd town,
Since its brave sons lay lifeless on the field,
With gory wounds, by civil discord dealt—
Scenes almost now forgotten and unknown—
When trembling virgins sought their lovers brave,
And on their mangled bosoms, frantic, wept;
While mothers mingled with the streaming blood
Tears of deep anguish and unutter'd woe
On the soak'd earth where their dear sons were slain.
Since its brave sons lay lifeless on the field,
With gory wounds, by civil discord dealt—
Scenes almost now forgotten and unknown—
When trembling virgins sought their lovers brave,
And on their mangled bosoms, frantic, wept;
While mothers mingled with the streaming blood
Tears of deep anguish and unutter'd woe
On the soak'd earth where their dear sons were slain.
When peace return'd, and civil discord ceas'd,
On Bradford, then, the sun of Commerce dawn'd:
But faint and few its beams.—Few were the goods
Which then, with toil and weary steps, were brought
On the jaded pack-horse to the little town,—
A public house the only piece-hall was,
And one small table held the merchant's store.
Behold, how chang'd! so many now her goods,
That she can form a zone to gird the world;
With rich moreens, can deck the Russian court;
In lighter goods adorn the Japanese;
Can far outshine the tint of Persian dyes,
And clothe the world from Zembla's coldest shores,
To hottest tracts of Afric's sultry plains.
On Bradford, then, the sun of Commerce dawn'd:
But faint and few its beams.—Few were the goods
Which then, with toil and weary steps, were brought
On the jaded pack-horse to the little town,—
A public house the only piece-hall was,
And one small table held the merchant's store.
Behold, how chang'd! so many now her goods,
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With rich moreens, can deck the Russian court;
In lighter goods adorn the Japanese;
Can far outshine the tint of Persian dyes,
And clothe the world from Zembla's coldest shores,
To hottest tracts of Afric's sultry plains.
When envious minds, by proud presumption curs'd,
With dire seditious trash the country fill'd,
Aiming to shake the basis of our throne,
Drew thousands into error and to shame,
Old Bradford stood,—yes, like its motto, stood,
Which deck'd the banner of the volunteers,
“Ready” to arm, and “steady” to the king.
With dire seditious trash the country fill'd,
Aiming to shake the basis of our throne,
Drew thousands into error and to shame,
Old Bradford stood,—yes, like its motto, stood,
Which deck'd the banner of the volunteers,
“Ready” to arm, and “steady” to the king.
While bless'd with Commerce, Bradford never dreads
Pale-visag'd poverty, nor meagre want;
Her sons are free, and, when in war engag'd,
Their wealth and hearts are open to the king:
Freely they give—as freely as they join
The joyful shouts, when vict'ry crowns our hosts,
And England echoes with triumphant joy.
Pale-visag'd poverty, nor meagre want;
Her sons are free, and, when in war engag'd,
Their wealth and hearts are open to the king:
Freely they give—as freely as they join
The joyful shouts, when vict'ry crowns our hosts,
And England echoes with triumphant joy.
Bless'd is that king, who, in his subjects' hearts,
Has fix'd the steadfast basis of respect!
Then let rebellion rise—'tis crush'd at once;
Or let proud hostile fleets loom on our seas,
And foreign foes approach with ev'ry wind,
While on each deck their glist'ning arms are seen,
Our constitution, commerce, and our king
Become the trumpets that arouse our souls:
The king our Jove, our constitution Mars,
Our trade Minerva, and our God our shield,
And, led by chiefs to English bosoms dear,—
The threat'ning fleets, whatever flags they bear,
Soon spread the bottom of the trembling deeps
With wreeks and trophies of their shatter'd pride!
Has fix'd the steadfast basis of respect!
Then let rebellion rise—'tis crush'd at once;
Or let proud hostile fleets loom on our seas,
And foreign foes approach with ev'ry wind,
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Our constitution, commerce, and our king
Become the trumpets that arouse our souls:
The king our Jove, our constitution Mars,
Our trade Minerva, and our God our shield,
And, led by chiefs to English bosoms dear,—
The threat'ning fleets, whatever flags they bear,
Soon spread the bottom of the trembling deeps
With wreeks and trophies of their shatter'd pride!
Oh that my feeble pen could half describe
The num'rous blessings Bradford's sons enjoy!
In chill December's cold and piercing nights,
When all the diamonds of yon spangled arch
Shine brilliant through the air, by frost made pure,—
When the bright moonbeams on the candied snow,
Create unnumber'd gems of ev'ry hue,
And beautify the scene,—then is the time
The starv'd inhabitants of heath-crown'd hills
Cling round the shimm'ring light of turfy fires;
And, as they shudder with the piercing blast
That penetrates their crazy tenements,
Oft wish that coals were near, but wish in vain.—
But, blest with her exhaustless mines of coal,
Were Bradford plac'd where mitred hills of snow
Raise their white heads beyond the Arctic line,
Where the green sea is one vast wild of ice,
She would defy a winter at the pole.
The num'rous blessings Bradford's sons enjoy!
In chill December's cold and piercing nights,
When all the diamonds of yon spangled arch
Shine brilliant through the air, by frost made pure,—
When the bright moonbeams on the candied snow,
Create unnumber'd gems of ev'ry hue,
And beautify the scene,—then is the time
The starv'd inhabitants of heath-crown'd hills
Cling round the shimm'ring light of turfy fires;
And, as they shudder with the piercing blast
That penetrates their crazy tenements,
Oft wish that coals were near, but wish in vain.—
But, blest with her exhaustless mines of coal,
Were Bradford plac'd where mitred hills of snow
Raise their white heads beyond the Arctic line,
Where the green sea is one vast wild of ice,
She would defy a winter at the pole.
262
Prompted by Commerce, in the summer months,
When bleating flocks are lighten'd of their load,
The manufacturers and staplers seek,
Through ev'ry shire, the farmer's woolly store,
Happy employment!—when, beneath the shade
Of lofty trees, the shepherd shears his sheep,
While, smiling o'er the group, his master stands,
And hears with joy the shearer's festive song,
Pours out the ale, and joins their rustic mirth;
Then makes them wrap, with honesty, each fleece,
Which, when unloos'd, may like his heart be found,
Nought to contain but equity and truth.
T' augment the pleasure of the rural scene,
After a year of absence, now arrives
From marts of commerce his accustom'd friend.
Upon the carpet of the verdant earth,
With joy the long-tried friends together meet,
Admire the fleece—the source of England's wealth—
Which all the climates of the world beside
Can ne'er surpass in quality and strength.
The farmer's blooming daughter, too, is there,
Blushing with modesty and virgin grace,
Great Nature's self the painter of her cheeks:—
The stapler's youthful and enamour'd son
Sees all the world a blank but her fair form;
While from her eyes the swift-wing'd darts of love
Fly quick, and pierce his inexperienc'd heart.
Poor youth!—he, like a ship with colours gay,
Just launch'd upon the ocean of the world,
Knows nothing of its tempests and its storms,
But thinks the main as tranquil as the port.
Meanwhile the fathers bargain for the wool;
The price is asked—'tis set—disputed—giv'n;
And soon the swelling sheets are homeward sent,
And half the vessels that the Humber bears,
Are fraught with wool, Britannia's wealth and boast.
When bleating flocks are lighten'd of their load,
The manufacturers and staplers seek,
Through ev'ry shire, the farmer's woolly store,
Happy employment!—when, beneath the shade
Of lofty trees, the shepherd shears his sheep,
While, smiling o'er the group, his master stands,
And hears with joy the shearer's festive song,
Pours out the ale, and joins their rustic mirth;
Then makes them wrap, with honesty, each fleece,
Which, when unloos'd, may like his heart be found,
Nought to contain but equity and truth.
T' augment the pleasure of the rural scene,
After a year of absence, now arrives
From marts of commerce his accustom'd friend.
Upon the carpet of the verdant earth,
With joy the long-tried friends together meet,
Admire the fleece—the source of England's wealth—
Which all the climates of the world beside
Can ne'er surpass in quality and strength.
The farmer's blooming daughter, too, is there,
Blushing with modesty and virgin grace,
Great Nature's self the painter of her cheeks:—
The stapler's youthful and enamour'd son
Sees all the world a blank but her fair form;
While from her eyes the swift-wing'd darts of love
Fly quick, and pierce his inexperienc'd heart.
Poor youth!—he, like a ship with colours gay,
263
Knows nothing of its tempests and its storms,
But thinks the main as tranquil as the port.
Meanwhile the fathers bargain for the wool;
The price is asked—'tis set—disputed—giv'n;
And soon the swelling sheets are homeward sent,
And half the vessels that the Humber bears,
Are fraught with wool, Britannia's wealth and boast.
When at its destin'd place 'tis landed safe,
The sorter first consigns each various kind,
With nice exactness, to its proper bin—
Emblem of man! who, in this chequer'd world,
According to appearance takes his place;
The great to palaces, the proud to courts;
To fine-built mansions some, and some to huts
Lowly and mean, yet fill'd with greatest peace,
Their residence like bins where wool is thrown;
And the partition which divides each class,
Death soon breaks down, commixing ev'ry sort.
The sorter first consigns each various kind,
With nice exactness, to its proper bin—
Emblem of man! who, in this chequer'd world,
According to appearance takes his place;
The great to palaces, the proud to courts;
To fine-built mansions some, and some to huts
Lowly and mean, yet fill'd with greatest peace,
Their residence like bins where wool is thrown;
And the partition which divides each class,
Death soon breaks down, commixing ev'ry sort.
The comber next employs his ancient art,
Which no machinery can supersede.
In vain the ingenious stretch their utmost skill:
As oft as tried, the expensive schemes of art
Abortive prove;—the comber still employ'd,
Sings at his work, and triumphs o'er them all;
Then plans for ale; and when the quart goes round,
Talks of his travels, happier than a king.
Which no machinery can supersede.
In vain the ingenious stretch their utmost skill:
As oft as tried, the expensive schemes of art
Abortive prove;—the comber still employ'd,
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Then plans for ale; and when the quart goes round,
Talks of his travels, happier than a king.
The spinners, too, in times which now are pass'd,
With many a weary step spun out the yarn,
Singing to pass the tedious hours away;
Or on the pleasant evenings of the spring,
Tranquillity pervading all the scene,
Upon the verdant earth their wheels were plied;
And village spinsters, with their rural songs,
Charm'd their lov'd swains, and labour turn'd to joy.—
But now, with wheels as num'rous as the stars,
With motion multiform as heavenly spheres,
The invention of the skill'd mechanic's mind,
Our wool has drawn out to the finest thread,
Unequall'd in the world. But time would fail
Minutely to describe each process of our trade.
With many a weary step spun out the yarn,
Singing to pass the tedious hours away;
Or on the pleasant evenings of the spring,
Tranquillity pervading all the scene,
Upon the verdant earth their wheels were plied;
And village spinsters, with their rural songs,
Charm'd their lov'd swains, and labour turn'd to joy.—
But now, with wheels as num'rous as the stars,
With motion multiform as heavenly spheres,
The invention of the skill'd mechanic's mind,
Our wool has drawn out to the finest thread,
Unequall'd in the world. But time would fail
Minutely to describe each process of our trade.
May Bradford's Commerce prosper still,
Her greastest boast, her glory, and her all!
Let Commerce flourish, then we stand secure—
Destroy it, and the seas defend in vain
From foreign foes Britannia's favour'd isle.
Her greastest boast, her glory, and her all!
Let Commerce flourish, then we stand secure—
Destroy it, and the seas defend in vain
From foreign foes Britannia's favour'd isle.
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |