The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas ... In seven volumes. A new edition |
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SATIRE FROM BOILEAU.
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 | The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas |  |
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SATIRE FROM BOILEAU.
ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN.
[_]
The design of this Satire is to show that true nobility consists in virtue independent of high birth.
High birth, my Lord, is no slight thing with me,
When in the man a virtuous mind I see;
From heroes sprung, and whom his birth inspires
To tread like you the footsteps of his sires.
When in the man a virtuous mind I see;
From heroes sprung, and whom his birth inspires
To tread like you the footsteps of his sires.
But who can suffer that a heartless fop,
Whose soul derives from birth its only prop,
Should gather laurels by another sown,
And boast of honours that are not his own?
I grant the virtues of his ancient line
In distant annals gloriously shine,
And that our Edwards' and our Henrys' fields
Have grav'd high honours on its noble shields:
But what avails to him this mass of glory,
Of heroes famous in their country's story,
If the world sees that all the fool has shar'd
Is only parchment which the worms have spar'd?
While 'mong the gods his fountain veins arise,
His little soul the god-like source belies?
And while, uncharg'd with aught that's good or great,
He sinks in lethargy of pride and state?
And yet to hear him arrogant and vain,
Th' illusive lustre of his house maintain,
Should we not cry that Heav'n before him lay?
That God had form'd him of superior clay?
Big with importance, and in pride complete,
He thinks mankind must fall and kiss his feet.
But now, thou god! distinction thrown aside,
Let's talk a little on this score of pride.
Whose soul derives from birth its only prop,
Should gather laurels by another sown,
And boast of honours that are not his own?
I grant the virtues of his ancient line
In distant annals gloriously shine,
And that our Edwards' and our Henrys' fields
Have grav'd high honours on its noble shields:
But what avails to him this mass of glory,
Of heroes famous in their country's story,
If the world sees that all the fool has shar'd
Is only parchment which the worms have spar'd?
While 'mong the gods his fountain veins arise,
His little soul the god-like source belies?
257
He sinks in lethargy of pride and state?
And yet to hear him arrogant and vain,
Th' illusive lustre of his house maintain,
Should we not cry that Heav'n before him lay?
That God had form'd him of superior clay?
Big with importance, and in pride complete,
He thinks mankind must fall and kiss his feet.
But now, thou god! distinction thrown aside,
Let's talk a little on this score of pride.
Tell me, thou hero, genius great and wise!
'Mong Heaven's creatures which are those we prize?
We boast a courser, whose proud heart we trace,
Will show a fiery vigour in the race;
Who never tires, but to the course still just,
Receives a thousand coats of noble dust:
Of Childers and Eclipse a dwindled race,
Losing their virtues, lose distinguish'd place,
Regardless of the source from which they flow,
They bear the pannier, or they draw the plough.
Shall nature be distorted then for thee,
And hacks and coursers hold the same degree?
I am not dazzled with an empty show:
Virtue's the mark of noble hearts I know.
If sprung from heroes, let us see you rise
In zeal for honour, and in dread of vice.
Do you revere the laws of God and man,
Injustice hate, and do all good you can?
Would you for glory change your soft repose
To lodge on open fields, where glory grows?
From deeds like these nobility began,
I feel conviction, and respect the man.
Then seek your birth among illustrious kings,
And of a thousand sires deduce the springs:
Then turn th' historic or romantic page,
At leisure con the heroes of each age,
Decide the veins thro' which your blood has run,
Through Cæsar, Peleus, or through Philip's son:
In vain demurring heralds disagree,
You are their offspring, or you ought to be.
But were your lineage from Alcides true,
While your co-evals see but vice in you,
Know all the train of heroes at your back
Are brilliant contrasts rendering you more black:
And all the lustre of their tarnish'd fame
Reflects a light that more displays your shame.
Haughty in vain of blood which you disgrace,
You build securely on your honour'd race:
In vain their shade ancestral virtues cast;
My mind regards them but as virtues past:
I see in you a sluggard, and a cheat,
Treason, seduction, perfidy, deceit;
A fool with error and with madness big,
And of a glorious root a rotten twig.
'Mong Heaven's creatures which are those we prize?
We boast a courser, whose proud heart we trace,
Will show a fiery vigour in the race;
Who never tires, but to the course still just,
Receives a thousand coats of noble dust:
Of Childers and Eclipse a dwindled race,
Losing their virtues, lose distinguish'd place,
Regardless of the source from which they flow,
They bear the pannier, or they draw the plough.
Shall nature be distorted then for thee,
And hacks and coursers hold the same degree?
I am not dazzled with an empty show:
Virtue's the mark of noble hearts I know.
If sprung from heroes, let us see you rise
In zeal for honour, and in dread of vice.
259
Injustice hate, and do all good you can?
Would you for glory change your soft repose
To lodge on open fields, where glory grows?
From deeds like these nobility began,
I feel conviction, and respect the man.
Then seek your birth among illustrious kings,
And of a thousand sires deduce the springs:
Then turn th' historic or romantic page,
At leisure con the heroes of each age,
Decide the veins thro' which your blood has run,
Through Cæsar, Peleus, or through Philip's son:
In vain demurring heralds disagree,
You are their offspring, or you ought to be.
But were your lineage from Alcides true,
While your co-evals see but vice in you,
Know all the train of heroes at your back
Are brilliant contrasts rendering you more black:
And all the lustre of their tarnish'd fame
Reflects a light that more displays your shame.
Haughty in vain of blood which you disgrace,
You build securely on your honour'd race:
In vain their shade ancestral virtues cast;
My mind regards them but as virtues past:
I see in you a sluggard, and a cheat,
Treason, seduction, perfidy, deceit;
A fool with error and with madness big,
And of a glorious root a rotten twig.
261
Perhaps I rave, perhaps my madding muse
Through her keen lines improper rancour strews:
To state some deference at least is due:
I cool, and modestly the theme pursue.
Your race is known. Since when? Great Lord reply.
A thousand years and more. I'll not deny.
Twice sixteen quarters on your arms appear:
'Tis great, I own; but are your proofs quite clear?
Your fathers' lineage heraldry proclaims,
And from the wreck of time has sav'd their names:
But in this circle of revolving time
(To love, my Lord, you know is not a crime),
What man or angel shall we find to prove
Their faithful dames have all resisted love?
That flatt'ring wooers knelt and sigh'd in vain,
And vows and tears no pity could obtain?
Know you, great Sir, but in some wanton mood
A female fill'd the course with other blood?
Know you their blood and rank all pure and true
Have thro' Lucretias flow'd along to you?
Through her keen lines improper rancour strews:
To state some deference at least is due:
I cool, and modestly the theme pursue.
Your race is known. Since when? Great Lord reply.
A thousand years and more. I'll not deny.
Twice sixteen quarters on your arms appear:
'Tis great, I own; but are your proofs quite clear?
Your fathers' lineage heraldry proclaims,
And from the wreck of time has sav'd their names:
But in this circle of revolving time
(To love, my Lord, you know is not a crime),
What man or angel shall we find to prove
Their faithful dames have all resisted love?
That flatt'ring wooers knelt and sigh'd in vain,
And vows and tears no pity could obtain?
Know you, great Sir, but in some wanton mood
A female fill'd the course with other blood?
Know you their blood and rank all pure and true
Have thro' Lucretias flow'd along to you?
Curs'd be the day that gave this folly birth,
To soil our manners and to level worth:
In happy times, or ere the world was old,
Each on his merit all his glory told.
Content then reign'd, and laws had equal springs,
Virtue gave rank, and merit made our kings.
None sought for lustre that was long since gone,
And worth depended on itself alone,
But time saw virtue and desert abas'd,
Saw vice ennobled, and saw honour chas'd,
And pride, supported by a borrow'd name,
Stalk o'er the earth and every breast inflame.
Then rose a crowd of Marquisses and Lords,
Who for their virtue offer'd empty words:
A thousand spirits then of fertile brain
Invented blazonry, with all its train;
In terms obscure a language new compose,
And azure, argent, saltier, fesse arose;
Rampant, pale, passant, guardant, gule, and or,
With quarters, crests, divisions, and what more?
A swelling madness made poor Reason drunk;
And 'mid the waves of folly honour sunk.
Then rank and birth with spirit to maintain
Expense and luxury must join each train:
The stately mansion must exalt the view,
And be distinguish'd by a motley crew:
Men look astonished as along they whirl,
And by their liveries know each Duke and Earl.
To soil our manners and to level worth:
In happy times, or ere the world was old,
Each on his merit all his glory told.
Content then reign'd, and laws had equal springs,
Virtue gave rank, and merit made our kings.
None sought for lustre that was long since gone,
And worth depended on itself alone,
263
Saw vice ennobled, and saw honour chas'd,
And pride, supported by a borrow'd name,
Stalk o'er the earth and every breast inflame.
Then rose a crowd of Marquisses and Lords,
Who for their virtue offer'd empty words:
A thousand spirits then of fertile brain
Invented blazonry, with all its train;
In terms obscure a language new compose,
And azure, argent, saltier, fesse arose;
Rampant, pale, passant, guardant, gule, and or,
With quarters, crests, divisions, and what more?
A swelling madness made poor Reason drunk;
And 'mid the waves of folly honour sunk.
Then rank and birth with spirit to maintain
Expense and luxury must join each train:
The stately mansion must exalt the view,
And be distinguish'd by a motley crew:
Men look astonished as along they whirl,
And by their liveries know each Duke and Earl.
But fortune fails, and then the art is taught
To borrow amply, and to render nought:
And braving all the bailiff's timid corps,
Let creditors but knock to leave the door.
But mark the end: the laws at length prevail,
The palace tumbles, and my Lord's in jail:
Or to prevent sore poverty's disgrace,
Receives some soarling to his proud embrace.
He bargains for a name the world admires,
And by a shameful contract sells his sires:
And thus, correcting fortune e'er she falls,
His greatness by his infamy recalls.
For if high birth is unsustain'd by gold,
In vain the splendour of its rank is told:
Then lust of ancestry is madness sure,
And none claims kindred with the haughty poor.
But gold, almighty gold, is worth its weight;
Were then thy parents Oyster Tom and Kate,
Their names forgotten, and their low degree,
All heraldry would teem with sires for thee.
To borrow amply, and to render nought:
And braving all the bailiff's timid corps,
Let creditors but knock to leave the door.
But mark the end: the laws at length prevail,
The palace tumbles, and my Lord's in jail:
Or to prevent sore poverty's disgrace,
Receives some soarling to his proud embrace.
265
And by a shameful contract sells his sires:
And thus, correcting fortune e'er she falls,
His greatness by his infamy recalls.
For if high birth is unsustain'd by gold,
In vain the splendour of its rank is told:
Then lust of ancestry is madness sure,
And none claims kindred with the haughty poor.
But gold, almighty gold, is worth its weight;
Were then thy parents Oyster Tom and Kate,
Their names forgotten, and their low degree,
All heraldry would teem with sires for thee.
Go you, whom merit and high birth attend,
Who from the rocks of courts your virtues fend,
Young, noble Lord! who near your Sovereign born,
Behold new glories still his crown adorn;
Whose fame himself and not his throne ensures,
And whom in vain a shameful leisure lures;
Despising all vain pomp of purpled state,
Making e'en fortune on his counsels wait;
Who makes his mind of happiness the spring,
And to the world displays what is a king;
Go, if your glowing breast true glory draws,
By glorious actions merit his applause;
Your noble master serve, mankind convince
The realm has subjects worthy of its prince.
Who from the rocks of courts your virtues fend,
Young, noble Lord! who near your Sovereign born,
Behold new glories still his crown adorn;
Whose fame himself and not his throne ensures,
And whom in vain a shameful leisure lures;
Despising all vain pomp of purpled state,
Making e'en fortune on his counsels wait;
Who makes his mind of happiness the spring,
And to the world displays what is a king;
Go, if your glowing breast true glory draws,
By glorious actions merit his applause;
Your noble master serve, mankind convince
The realm has subjects worthy of its prince.
| The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas | |