The base
text for this edition was prepared from a copy held in the Kohler Collection
of Nineteenth-Century Minor British Poets at the Shields Library of the University
of California, Davis. A photoreproduction of this text has been used for the
present edition with the kind permission of the Shileds Library and the University
of California, Davis.
This edition was prepared
by Leslie Roper from a photoduplicated copy of the original text. This edition
was prepared in Microsoft Word for Windows. The author's original spelling,
punctuation, and spacing have been maintained.
Date
of completion: May 2004.
Additional
editing and formatting by Stephen C. Behrendt: Summer 2004.
THE
EPICS OF THE TON;
OR,
THE
GLORIES
OF
THE GREAT WORLD:
A
POEM,
IN TWO BOOKS,
WITH
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
______________
—Omnes illacrymabiles
Urgentur ignotique longâ
Nocte, carent quia vate
sacro.—HOR.
O say shall those who just so bright have shone,
Escape remembrance when they quit the Ton?
Their laurels wither'd, and their name forgot,
As dog on dunghill has been said to rot!
_______________
LONDON:
PRINTED BY AND FOR C. AND R. BALDWIN,
NEW-BRIDGE-STREET.
____
1807.
[iii]
TO THE GENTLE
READER
_______
IT is pleasing to know
the name of an Author,
And doubly gratifying to learn his private history.
If he is no niggard of due commendations, one may
thus discover, whether he is a person that one should
like to invite to one's table; and, if he is a satyrist,
it would be convenient to ascertain, if one might
safely spit in his face. But in this world, there
is no such thing as obtaining all one's wishes; for
truly said the Roman poet long ago:
—
Nihil est ab omni
Parte
beatum.
You may however rest assured, Gentle Reader,
that no pains have been spared, on the present oc-
casion, to gratify your reasonable curiosity. The
Publisher has, at an expence too extravagant to be
believed, procured the celebrated Mr. —, who
can distinguish the styles of all men that have
written, or that may write, to inspect the manu-
script, and discover the author. This learned and
ingenious gentleman, has at length, with indefatiga-
ble industry, succeeded in fixing the performance,
[iv]
by indubitable marks, on no less than thirteen very
witty authors now alive; but which of these is the
real author, (for one of them it evidently must be)
is humbly left to the unerring judgement of the
public. All that is further necessary to be added,
is a flat contradiction of the ridiculous and injuri-
ous report, so industriously propagated, that it is a
posthumous production of Mr. Tobin, whose Muse
first smooth'd the fashionable world with the Honey-
moon, and then prepared to roughen it with the
Pharo Table. That it cannot be the work of this
(late) man is unquestionable; first, because it is
impossible that the same author, who descended to a
comedy, could rise to an Epic Poem; secondly, be-
cause his dramas are written in blank verse, whereas
the following piece is composed in rhyme; thirdly,
because, according to the old and undoubted adage,
dead men tell no tales, whereas, in the succeeding
pages, some tales are told. And lastly, because the
dirge of the said Tobin is sung in the following
pages, and no man was ever heard to sing his own
dirge.
The notes, it is needless to add, are by a different
hand; but of necessity extremely well executed, since
they were paid for at the very highest rate of
sheet-work.
[v]
CONTENTS
TO PART I.
OR,
THE
FEMALE BOOK.
_____
Page
M——F——— …………………………
14
M—— of A——— ……………………...
18
—— ——……………………………......
22
D—— of G——— ………………………24
L— M—— P——; D—— of R—;— M——
C———; D——
of M——; D—— of
B———... ….………...…………....
27
L —— L—— M——— ………………..
30
D—— of S—— A——— ....………...…
33
D—— of D———….…...……………...
35
M—— of S——— ..……………………
39
C—— of B———………………………41
C—— of M———……………………...43
M—— of A———……………………...54
M—— of A———……………………...56
L—— H———…………………………59
V—— C——— ………………………...66
L—— C—— C———………………….67
D—— of R———………………………72
L—— P———………………………….83
[vi]
CONTENTS.
Page
C—— of D———………………………87
L—— C———…………………………96
H—— M———……………………….105
_______________
CONTENTS TO PART
II.
OR,
THE
MALE BOOK.
Page
D—— of P———…………………......120
L—— H—— P——— ………………..126
S—— P——— ………………………..142
L—— G——— ………………………..153
G—— C———………………………..166
G—— R——— ...……………………..177
W——— W——— …………………...183
R—— B—— S——— ………………..197
L—— M——— ……………………….212
L—— E——— ………………………..226
L—— R——— ………………………..234
E—— of H——— ……………………..242
E—— of C——— ……………………..250
D—— of Q——— …………………….253
E—— of M——— …………………….260
[1]
THE
EPICS
OF THE TON,
BOOK
THE FIRST;
BEING
THE
FEMALE BOOK
[2]
[3]
THE
EPICS OF THE TON:
THE FEMALE BOOK.
______
WHILE
dull historians only sing of wars,
Of hood-wink'd treaties hatching keen-ey'd jars;
Of wily statesmen splitting hairs asunder,
Of hills and orators who belch and thunder;
Of grinding taxes, and of tott'ring thrones, 5
Of him who eats up states, and picks the bones:
Say shall the brightest glories of our age,
Who best adorn the cut, and grace the page,
[4]
Who on the top of fashion's Ida dwell,
And gold in showers produce to either Bell; 10
O say shall these, who just so bright have shone,
Escape remembrance when they quit the Ton?
Their laurels wither'd, and their name forgot,
As dog on dunghill has been said to rot?
[5]
Forbid it honour! and forbid it shame!
15
The love of glory, and the love of game!
Forbid it, Muse, who oft with glowing strains
Have rais'd sensations in high ladies' veins;
You who, with Ethredge, roved in royal stores,
When beauties, like hobnails, were told by scores; 20
[6]
Or with poor Smollett, fain for gold to tickle,
Wrought up with liquorish gust, the feats of Pickle;
Or, sinning deeper, like repentant Punk,
Call'd gloating females to abhor the Monk;
[7]
Or with young Teius sung of am'rous blisses, 25
With one eternal round of hugs and kisses:
[8]
From next year's Lethe, and oblivion drear,
Come save the deeds which you have help'd to rear.
[9]
Should'st thou, my lay, shine splendid as thy theme,
Like rushlights to thy sun, all bards should seem: 30
Then still might Southey sing his crazy Joan,
Or feign a Welshman o'er th' Atlantic flown,
Or tell of Thalaba the wondrous matter,
Or with clown Wordsworth chatter, chatter, chatter;
[10]
Still Rogers bland his imitations twine, 35
And strain his Memory for another line;
[11]
Good-natured Scott rehearse in well-paid Lays
The marv'lous chiefs and elves of other days;
Or lazy Campbell spin his golden strains,
And have the Hope he nurtures, for his pains— 40
[12]
Thou shouldst triumphant mount to distant times,
And bear aloft thy heroes on thy rhymes;
Well known to all that soar, and all that crawl,
On every dressing-table, every stall,
Thy circulation should thy worth bespeak, 45
And thousands still be sold through many a week;
[13]
While tomes thrice learn'd, that piled in warehouse,
groan,
Would but to snuff-shops have their merits known.
Then, Muse of Ton, begin; and while thy song
In no unmeaning eddies strays along; 50
With blank most eloquent, and hint that flames,
Unfolds redoubted chiefs, and high-bred dames;
Bids a whole epic upon each attend,
With quaint beginning, middle, and smart end
[14]
I in my buggie, thine advent'rous Knight, 55
Through Rotten Row will tend upon thy flight;
Whate'er thy Sybil voice shall utter, save,
And now and then myself indite a stave.
Ye female glories! Be it first your turn,
Who shine the brightest as ye fiercest burn. 60
M———
F———.
Whom shalt thou, 'midst this full blown garden,
choose,
To form thy first bright wreathe, discerning muse?
Say, are not her's the most exalted charms,
Who lures an H— A— to her arms?
And hopes to shine the first of r—y—l—, 65
Nell Gwyns unnoticed then, and Pompadours?
[15]
What though drear wrinkles on her brow be seen,
And fat alone remains where fair has been?
What through a duskier hue, and flaccid frame,
All out of season speak the rancid game? 70
[16]
Though all that's gross must now be born to please,
And love be lured by its excessive ease?
Though toilsome arts and ever-varied charms
Must back entice her lover to her arms?
(Some swains will stray in closure, or in common, 75
Where'er their scent detects a fat old woman,
As late hoar J— felt her power to fix,
And wiser H—— scorn'd at fifty-six:—)
What though around her sneer her seeming slaves?
And loud and fierce the man of Diamond raves? 80
What though deep groans foreboding parents breathe,
And turn their eyes indignant to Blackheath?
[17]
In her barouche while r— l—— will roll,
Or love between her mountain breasts to loll;
While round the course, or through the shining
Steine,
85
Train'd to her side a p——y prize is seen
To catch, with smiles, her glances as they fly,
And search for lustre in her hollow'd eye—
Still crouds will gaze, still Brighthelmstone will shout,
Still titled ladies throng her envied rout: 90
By sires who kneel before the rising sun,
By mothers who no shame for courts would shun,
Still blooming daughters to her levees led,
Shall learn betimes to stain the marriage bed.
O Britain's Queen! accept the tribute due 95
To Virtue, Honour, Modesty, and You:
[18]
Though this loose age, by French example wise,
The sacred rites of wedded love despise;
Though matrons shine, when lost their honest name,
And with th' adult'rer proudly flaunts the dame; 100
Yet her I honour to whose single court,
Chaste maids may still without a blush resort;
Even if the lewd should come, they come unknown,
And Vice itself must here its name disown!
M——— of A———.
But quit, my muse, oh quit these humble
scenes,
105
Nor stoop to queens, from feats surpassing queens.
A would-be princess thee provokes to scan
Her flight from King to Emp'ror, Czar, Sultan;
To bound with her where Rhone and Danube glide,
Or pant for glory by the Neva's side; 110
By Dnieper's stream, or rude Crimean height,
To prune thy wing, and emulate her flight;
[19]
Then at the Haram's door her watch to keep,
Blest haunt! where virgins ne'er were known to peep.
Or see her thence return'd, with bolder fame, 115
That spurns the vulgar tongue, and treads on shame,
Try kings in vain, and after all miscarriage,
Entrap a pur-blind M——g——e into marriage.
An easier task now, Hymen, thou hast got,
A prince may fix her, though a peer could not; 120
A royal Lord may rein her peccant part,
Who, from his foot, picks up her bleeding heart:
[20]
Sooth she'll not part, nor he to snarl begin,
Good Germans care not for small slips a pin.
Hail love of glory! passion great and blest! 125
But triply noble in a female breast!
Rapt bards have sung thy feats, in days of yore,
With Spartan matrons, and with hundreds more;
How thou could'st make gay damsels fire the trenches,
And generalissimos of ostler wenches: 130
[21]
Yet sure thy power exceeds what poets feign,
If e'er thy ruling force these aims should gain,
To Jove's imperial bird convert the raven,
And Lady Mary make of Lady ———.
Nor these bright trophies sate the kindling
dame,
135
She grasps the lyre, and pants for deathless fame;
Erects a stage, where her own scenes appear,
The poet she, and she the actor here;
[22]
Here far above all vulgar flight she soars,
Spouts what she dreams, inditing what she roars;
Of all inglorious rivals makes a riddance, 141
And shines at once a Centlivre and Siddons.
Hail rap'trous moments! hail ingenious dame!
Her pleasures doubled, as her doubled fame!
She hugs in fancy, as the scene she plies; 145
And acting it, she hugs in solid guise.
———
———
Peace to such venial faults! But were it told
A woman lived still profligate though old;
One who, from youth, at each unhallow'd fire,
Had glow'd and batten'd to her heart's desire; 150
As dead to shame, to every generous thought,
As Mother Win, who long has sold and bought;
[23]
A hacknied gamester who has driven the trade
To snare each unfledg'd youth and artless maid;
In passion nurtur'd, to indulgence bred, 155
And blest in any but her husband's bed;
While Virtue shudder'd, and Repentance wept,
A wife, a mother, keeping oft and kept;
Known to "the general camp, pioneers and all,"
My lord above-stairs, Thomas in the hall; 160
No sin abridged as life's dark close draws near,
And quite a wanton in her sixtieth year——
Is English air defil'd by such a hag?
Haste, shut her up with cat, snake, ape, in bag!
[24]
Nay, lady, frown not at these random hits— 165
But let her take it whom the bonnet fits.
D———
of G———.
Bawl not so loud! nor shake the muse's nerves;
She hastes to sing thee as thy worth deserves.
O destin'd by the fates, in happiest hour,
To shew the triumphs of the love of power; 170
And teach the world against what fearful odds,
A girl of Scotland may approach the Gods!
[25]
Few nymphs, new fledg'd, with eagle eye could
trace
The sudden frailties of his am'rous Grace;
Or move a griping draper with the pledge, 175
In one short night to set the peer on edge.
Few, in a ten-foot parlour taught to shine,
Where captains sometimes flirt, and parsons dine,
Could set the winter circles in a blaze,
While dowagers with double vision gaze: 180
First at the rout, the ring, the masque, the ball,
Where dice-box rattles, or Signoras squall;
At Faro's orgies fam'd, with bolder flight,
To win or lose a fortune in a night:
[26]
A politician who, with equal ease, 185
Can twine a courtier, or a parson please;
Shine to the one, the gay, the gallant duchess,
Whose passions fly, whose virtue limps on crutches;
While t'other, edified by looks so holy,
Thanks Heaven that greatness now's divorced from
folly!
190
With mind too noble for her rustic dear,
She takes his tame four thousand pounds a year;
In fashion's circles keeps alive his name,
And makes him shine (his all) with borrow'd fame;
Destin'd the glory of his house to prove, 195
And but withhold that trifling thing—her love.
Thus Hanover's bold sons, in mighty power,
Wear our red jerkins, and our beef devour;
Shake the parade, or make th' exchequer light,
And any thing for Britain do—but fight. 200
And yet a loftier note the muse might swell,
Of peers led captive by her magic spell;
[27]
Drawn to the altar with a wond'ring heart,
While passion blows upon the stem of art.
See mushroom princes pluck'd at, as they shoot, 205
Yet for her vigour prove too firm at root;—
(‘Twas not a Roman matron's high-born pride,
No Roman virgin would be thus allied;)
See her the puppet's humbling scorn repair,
And find a nobler match in R——l's heir. 210
Thus o'er the realm her soaring kindred spreads,
And her fair offspring mount the loftiest beds;
Ambition bends him from his air-built shrine,
His vot'ry cheers, and hails her half divine!
L— M— P; D— of R—; M— C—;
D—
of M—; D— of B—.
Say not my epic quill o'erflows with gall, 215
Or spirits around a venom'd juice on all;
[28]
Eager to praise, where praise can be allow'd,
I haste to snatch black cygnets from the crowd.
From vale, from garden, where the lily grows,
O bring its sweets, my muse, and join the rose; 220
The loveliest wreathe around their temples bind,
And hold them forth a pattern to their kind.
Through in the giddy rounds of fashion bred,
Through all its follies by example led;
With every beauty which the bosom warms, 225
With every talent which the fancy charms;
Though from the cradle to the altar blest,
Admir'd and follow'd, flatter'd and carest;
Yet them no reigning folly e'er has claim'd,
No rampant vice amidst her vot'ries named; 230
No tongue, in this licentious age, has shed
Its pois'ning slander round their marriage bed:
But meekly shrinking from the public gaze,
They court alone the modest matron's praise;
[29]
And placed in scenes of glare, of noise, and strife, 235
Seek for no fame that misbecomes a wife.
In vain the very mother's sought in these,
One half retrench'd, and t'other purged of lees:
So have I seen a mountain torrent pour
With troubled waters, and with angry roar; 240
Through noisy cat'racts tumble down amain,
And rush with threat'ning billows on the plain;
But there arrived, its blust'ring waves divide,
And o'er the mead, in gentlest riv'lets glide,
Upon whose verdant banks sweet violets grow, 245
And on their surface water-lilies blow;
Soothed by their gentle murmurs, shepherds dream,
Or love to sip from their pellucid stream.
[30]
L——
L—— M——.
From thy fair stem, what tempting fruits have
grown,
Like thee, to every gazing trav'ler known! 250
In fashion's hot-bed mellow'd into prime,
One lovely peach has dropt before its time;
Yet still its sister fruits, from golden stalks,
Their fragrance scatter o'er the courtly walks;
While with sweet smiles that might inflame a stone,
The d—h—ss kindly warms her apple-John. 256
O happy mother! once a blessed wife!
O cheery widow in the vale of life!
Some card for fashion, and some dice for fame,
But wiser he who mingled wit with game; 260
E'en kept the table, pander'd to the fun,
And turn'd the penny, whoso lost or won.
Hence his full coffers pond'rous guineas strain;
Hence his bright honours flourish'd with his gain;
Hence stands his name inscrib'd mid courtly gods,
For teaching English nobles Capuan modes; 266
[31]
Hence shine his daughters in the foremost place,
For who outvies my Lady, or her Grace?
[32]
Hence his gay widow in her chariot wheels,
And counts six tall stout footmen at her heels; 270
[33]
Glad to behold her offspring like herself,
As gay, as painted, and as full of pelf;
Still hovering round her former fields of fame,
The ball, the masque, the concert, and the game:—
So ghosts their former scenes of pleasure haunt, 275
With eye deep-hollow'd, and with aspect gaunt;
Intrude on human sight at close of day,
And fright the younglings at their moonlight play.
Go finish out thy course as it began,
Nor break at sixty thy consistent plan: 280
For thy keen brows the muse shall holly bring,
To suit the verdure of thy latter spring.
D——
of S—A——.
Haste, clear the pavement, call the crowd to
stare!
Her swan-leg'd footmen, and bright lacquer'd chair,
And hoop to nose, proclaim S—A—— there! 285
[34]
Say who shall more adorn the courtly scene?
Or turn aside more gazers from the queen?
More through the rooms the general buz create,
Or more confound the gapers at the gate?
More catch the town, or in the Post next day 290
Engross more lines, more wond'rous things display?
Nor be her glories to the world unknown,
These brilliant charms are fairly all her own:
She has poor nature veil'd with skilful art,
Thrown rich amendments o'er each faulty part; 295
And colours not vouchsafed the human face
Cull'd from the shrub, the mine, and stow'd with
grace.
So nicely touch'd her frame from top to bottom,
And all her charms so alter'd since she got ‘em,
[35]
That with the knowing, tis an even bet, 300
If she or nature's most in other's debt.
D——
of D——.
Such moons may shine, when thy bright sun is
down,
O born to grace the vale, and gild the town!
On Chiswick's banks, a flower that woos the sight,
In London's throngs, a dazzling blaze of light. 305
No servile rhymester now begins the lay,
And sings, like Tom, for favour, or for pay;
No rich rewards come glitt'ring from the tomb,
No gaping flatt'rers seek to pierce its gloom.
[36]
Hadst thou still bask'd the wing in fashion's beam,
The muse had flapp'd thee in thy golden dream; 311
Or sung a second to some yelping cur,
And raked for gold, perhaps, the dirt of S—r;
[37]
Or wept that virtues, form'd to bless mankind,
Should lose the kernel, and retain the rind; 315
That a hear, warm with charity and love,
A prey to sycophants and knaves should prove;
That nature's softest feelings should be lost,
Amidst the waves of whirling folly tost;
Keen though they were to sorrow or delight, 320
And sweetly warbled from the Alpine height:
That talents dear to genius, mark'd for fame,
Should still be wasted at the midnight game;
Or rack'd, next day, to find some new supply,
And bilk a tradesman with a shew to buy: 325
[38]
That she, of softness, past her sex possest,
Felt the mad passions of the gamester's breast;
[39]
Or urged by faction midst the rabble tribe,
Should kiss a greasy butcher with a bribe;
Unskill'd, discretion with her warmth to blend, 330
Nor lose herself through zeal to serve a friend.
But, censure, hush! a sacred silence keep;
Let Loves alone and Graces come to weep;
Let tears sincere her human frailties mourn,
Nor flatt'ring lies hold up her tomb to scorn; 335
When envy long is dead, and passion calm,
Her own soft lines shall best her name embalm.
M——
of S——.
Muse can'st thou ride, can'st gallop o'er the
plain,
And leap a five-barr'd gate, and head the train?
[40]
Scour as, on broomstick-hunters, ancient witches, 340
And save thy modesty by buckskin breeches?
Or name the pack, and shout the learn'd halloo,
And do all else, that jolly huntsmen do?
Then mayst thou come in guise of vig'rous spark,
And kiss thy gallant sister in the dark. 345
Or thou may'st turn, these brilliant feats to crown,
From hunting hares, to hunt religion down;
Still hold thy concerts on the sacred eve,
And Porteus spurn, and Rowland cause to grieve;
[41]
While hundred chariots, rattling round the square,
Alarm the choir, and drown the evening prayer; 351
And big Squallante's notes to soar begin,
While drabs without list demireps within.
C———
of B———.
Yet quit the chace, my muse, however hot;
Poor Laura's fate! it must not be forgot! 355
[42]
Unhappy Laura! Why that heart-broke sigh?
And why that piteous roving of thine eye?
Why bear'st thou still that care-worn look of woes
Which ever seek, but never find repose?
Hast thou not wealth to tempt the gazing crowd? 360
Hast thou not titles to allure the proud?
A feeling heart for others' woes to grieve,
An open hand their miseries to relieve?—
Yet dost thou seem as if the world were glad,
And thou of all thy human kindred, sad. 365
Crowds, noise, and pomp, but barb the mental ail,
She seeks relief in the sequester'd vale:
Where Scotland's giant mountains threat the skies,
And half impending o'er the trav'ller rise;
Where gullies deep are fill'd with torrents black, 370
Still thund'ring down the endless cataract;
Where somber firs, amid the summer green,
A gloomy aspect shed o'er all the scene;
Where rocks, asunder rent by Nature's throes,
Their horrid shelves in frequent gaps disclose; 375
Where to the jutting herb, on crag too high,
The haggard goat uplifts the rueful eye;
[43]
There where the plover's ever dreary lay,
Still breaks the cheerless silence of the day,
Poor Laura sat beneath the stunted tree, 380
Unwilling to be seen, and sad to see;
The scene was dismal, and o'ercast the day,
Yet was her heart more doleful still than they.
O fortune, where is now thy envied bliss?
O flaunting titles, are your joys like this? 385
Sorrows there are which riches cannot sooth,
Nor rank allay, nor tender friendship smooth;
Which wring the heart through every secret hour,
And ‘midst the busy haunt its peace devour;
Which only fly when life and joy are flown, 390
Which only rest beneath the silent stone;
There shall her sorrows cease, her cares be o'er,
Who adds to misery's list one Laura more.
C———
of M———.
I love to find a woman that can spend
An evening chearful with a single friend; 395
E'en by herself, not quite her soul devour,
And half a day work pleased on half a flower;
[44]
Nor from her books have every hour to spare,
Nor, mad for knowledge, to Count's Lounge repair;
That haunt where ladies catch new themes for tattle,
And learned grow by S—dn—y's pretty prattle, 401
Or, with the rage of science deeply bit,
Hear D—vy oxydate poor S—dn—y's wit;
[45]
The flaws of science with a fiddle botch,
And haste from chemistry to Dr. Cr—tch; 405
Or self-applauding puffs both hear and see,
Where dun-skin'd oils from water-colours flee;
And still to aid the lecture tame and vague,
Th' example comes, and shouts "'twas done by
C—g!"
O give him setters fee'd for half a crown, 410
To catch him rich admirers o'er the town!
[46]
On this bright shrine of science deck'd so gay,
Muse, turn to place thy tributary lay;
This shrine, where ladies' wits on flame are taken,
And offer'd up red hissing hot to Bacon. 415
In times now quite from modern mem'ry flown,
In days before our grannam's beards were grown,
The fair—who boasted any thing to know,
But just to toss a fan, or sport a beau,
Select a bonnet, or a ribbon match, 420
Compose a simper, or adjust a patch—
These wiser fair, with knowledge drawn from book,
Could shame the butler, or astound the cook;
‘Twixt spice and gravy trace each choice alliance,
The Kitchen Guide their sum of nat'ral science. 425
[47]
Still at their needle were the hussefs seen,
Still at those works which now but grace a queen;
The flowret rose beneath their fost'ring hands,
And lovers were secured in netted bands.
If nobler themes caught some sublimer soul, 430
She learnt those truths which passion's heats controul;
[48]
Imbibed the duties of the wedded life,
To guide, the mother, and to bless, the wife;
How in the highest paths unenvied shine,
See wealth and splendour pass, and not repine; 435
How suit her actions to a frail abode,
And meet, at length, with hope and love her God.
[49]
But modern fair ones, with a nobler pride,
These paltry means, and silly ends deride;
Dash with advent'rous aim through Physic laws, 440
And find for each effect a nat'ral cause.
[50]
Hear them descant on Carbon's varied use,
And o'er the pudding talk of gastric juice;
Shew boils and gout to be, with all their pains,
Caloric's vacillation in the veins; 445
Hysterics but some hydrogenic frolic,
And chyle coquetting bile the cause of cholic.
When Sancho scents the room, no prancing Sir
Starts up in haste to oust the whimp'ring cur;
The blest occasion seize the anxious fair 450
To snuff the properties of phosphate air.
[51]
From D—vy's dapper feats, so quick to view,
Converting red to green, and green to blue,
Now burning gases, and now quaffing air,
Till tipsy quite he sinks beside his chair— 455
When Flora's pores distend with vernal pith,
Now haste the fair to catch the laws of S——h;
To know if charming Darwin they may trust,
Who sung the feats of vegetable lust;
And learn if true it is that nature droll 460
Should perk thus in our face the queer corol.
[52]
Say, noble count, why not enlarge thy plan,
And to the sex unfold superior man?
On table spread, with weapon anatomic,
Ript up from head to foot, from back to stomach,
How many a secret would the scene disclose! 466
How many a cause whence vast effects arose!
Of moral science are the sex devoid?
No—here their thoughts are grand, their knowledge
wide;
They know th' attractive, the repulsive force, 470
Which through all nature hold their sov'reign course;
Which wed the acid with the alkali,
And make the magnet now embrace, now fly;
Which spring the mushroom, and which grow the
man,
The appearance varied with the varied plan. 475
[53]
Moved by these powers men long to eat and drink,
And learn at length that strange odd thing to think;
The air in eddies, words yelep'd, propel,
And now good subjects make, and now rebel.
Do these strong powers the bosom kindly move? 480
All reason thaws, and melts the heart to love.
Act they in concert? Virtue joys our eyes:
But do they quarrel? The result is vice.
While these inform our organized pipe-clay,
And in our bosoms hold their genial play, 485
Then are we said to live: but should they fly,
And quit their vibrating disport, we die.
For life and death, vice, virtue, conscience, reason,
These forces make, and end them all in season.
The dreams which fools indite of Heaven and Hell,
The curse of crimes and bliss of doing well; 491
Of Gods and Devils, fables of old women,
Are made to suit such bedlamites as Boehmen.
Repelled, attracted, still we live: and when
This motion ceases, we are clods again. 495
[54]
Go on ye fair! your learned course pursue,
And do as nature's impulse bids ye do;
May fate your labours crown, make famed your life:
Nay, make you any thing—if not my wife.
M———
of A———.
What joys of wine make th' art'ry throb so high,
As rapture trembling in the female eye? 501
What ills so deep the manly bosom move,
As woman's anguish mix'd with tears of love?
On the bleak beach before the gazing crowd,
To hear these piercing plaints, these shrieks so loud;
[55]
To see that bosom, white as bolted snow, 506
Heave, as ‘twould burst, by swelling pangs below,
O'er that fine brow the dews of death to trace,
While all his lurid hues o'erspread that face;
To see those polished limbs convulsive start 510
Till fainting nature fails to do her part;
To know that all these agonizing woes
Are barb'd by feeling, and from love arose;—
Who would not weep her tears, and sign her moan,
And wish her tender sorrows half his own? 515
Yet stay——These tears no mother's love
bespeak,
And for no husband seems that heart to break;
No early friends' mishap, or parents' ill,
These limbs convulse, that face with anguish fill:
Her babes, her husband, could that tender dame
Unmoved abandon for a wanton flames; 521
Could pant with rapture in th' adulterer's arms,
And feed the guilty riot with her charms.
[56]
Now her gay paramour is call'd to wield
Another armour in another field; 525
For amorous stratagems in Venus' wars,
To meet Bellona's wrath and bloody scars;
Exchange, for dank morass, the wanton's bed,
While hostile glances seek his tempting red: 529
Hence heaves her breast, and hence her colour dies—
For now, what lips shall drink her glowing sighs?
What panting breast shall on her bosom pant,
Raise each desire, and satiate every want?
Make all her widow'd nights with transport burn,
And shame and guilt to rapt fruition turn? 535
For thee, fond fair, let kindred fair ones
feel,
Their sorrows mingle, and their joys reveal;
Gloat o'er their pleasures for some passing years,
Then waste their harrowing age in penitential tears!
M———
of A———.
The child that sees another soundly whipt 540
Is near as frightened as if he were stript;
And shuns, lest he a like mischance should feel,
To rob the orchard, or the cheese-cake steal.
[57]
But our grown children see their fellows stray,
And sad correction meet them on their way; 545
From wealth to penury, fame to scorn descend,
Mock'd while they live, unpitied in their end:—
Yet unregarded is the warning given,
And all unheard the voice, the acts, of Heaven;
New vot'ries still the fatal joys entice, 550
Still gay and thoughtless, folly sports with vice.
She, that once held her name, the theme of scorn,
Does the thought move the sprightly ——?
The Abbey, sees it now a calmer day,
Its guests less numerous, or its sports less gay? 555
There is high luxury less profusely quaff'd?
Are those who drink less madden'd with the draught?
Or the fair hostess less be-paragraph'd?
[58]
No!—Scenes more costly now enchant the hall,
At midnight concert, or at morning ball; 560
A Thespian temple here, bedizen'd o'er,
Now oft receives a whole dramatic corps;
Where mushroom warriors learn to strut their hour,
And Buonaparte, snug at home, devour;
[59]
Where high-bred dames, more given to deal in fact,
Con o'er betimes what they eftsoons enact; 566
Where grace and gambol mix a thousand ways,
And Kemble spouts in state on holidays;
Where verdant laurels deck the lustrous scene,
And quite eclipse the greybeard M——g——e. 570
Go on, fair dame, enjoy thy summer hour,
Nor think of snows that chill, or skies that lower;
Nor to your lord his manlier pleasure grudge,
Who now a hunter blows, and now a judge;
While monkeys wear a tail, or stags a horn, 575
Thou shalt be talk'd of with thy ———.
L——— H———.
When lovely E—— quitted first her cot,
In honest way to seek her future lot;
By frequent curtsey humbly won renown;
And nicely plaiting of her lady's gown; 580
Even then her rival beaux were seen to vie,
The coachman bluster, and the valet sigh.
When next, promoted, (near that lofty fane
Where stamp the mimic gods of Drury Lane,)
[60]
She by a fuming altar stood so dight 585
In gown with sleeves abridged, and apron white;
The fragrant slice dissever'd from the loin,
The trencher warm'd, or pour'd the barley-wine;
In wedgewood bason dealt the smoking soup,
And, tripling, cast a leer upon the groupe; 590
With knowing smile return'd the leer or jest,
Nor veil'd her ankle fine, or swelling breast——
How many a swain in love and lux'ry wallow'd,
Gazed as he chew'd, and gloated as he swallow'd!
Or while his eyes and tongue would play the fool,
Forgot his joint, and left his steak to cool; 596
Would drink in rapture with his nut-brown ale,
And count the cost that surely might prevail!
Now, in this temple, once where bucks ne'er fared,
And but hard-finger'd tradesmen once repair'd, 600
Lured by the priestess, rhyming templars whine,
And players spout, and chuckling brokers dine.
Nor wonder man, frail man, was here undone,
Where woman's charms were all combined in one;
[61]
Here tempting lips with tempting bosom strove, 605
Here polish'd limbs with eyes that wanton rove;
Her body suited to her beauteous face,
Each smile was love, each motion was a grace;
Here might the eye an endless banquet steal
From what the kindly folds but half conceal; 610
And with well-suiting soul that scorn'd the prude,
(Here prudery was too much for flesh and blood)
When sighing, panting, Strephon warmly prest,
Her gentle nature made her Strephon blest.
Some scenes there are which all unveil'd should
lie,
Some joys too sacred for the vulgar eye; 616
These no unhallow'd artist e'er must shew,
But those who taste them, those alone must know:
The vagrant muse, eves-dropping late at night,
Shall ne'er reveal them to the garish light; 620
With wary hand she draws the curtains close,
And lovers safely on her faith repose.
But say what eye discerning found the gem
That well might sparkle in a diadem?
[62]
Brush'd it from rubbish, polish'd and new-set,
Whence yet a brighter destiny it met, 626
Lodged in old Virturoso's cabinet?
Now E——'s polish'd limbs, and motions
fine,
Her mien majestic, and her step divine,
Placed in their proper sphere, at court display'd, 630
Make longing nobles haunt the glowing maid;
While the more favour'd sons of blest virtù,
Her charms, like mother Eve's embellish'd, view.
[63]
Here hacknied sculptors strange emotions own,
And on this study gaze themselves to stone; 635
Here sunk-eyed painters check the mounting blood,
And catch, with trembling hand, an attitude;
[64]
Now in some tempting posture view her near,
As once she lay to blinking M—sq—r—r;
Now as a sleeping Venus all confest, 640
While wanton Cupid sports around her breast.
Lo! high in state, and near the sceptre seen,
(Fear'd by a court, embosom'd by a q——,)
E—— shews talents far beyond her kind,
And, great in fortune, shines more great in mind;
State secrets now she wins by state intrigues, 646
And enmities conceal'd, and treach'rous leagues;
Knows how to bribe the most unbending wight,
And, if she fails by day, succeeds by night;
Can sift a counsellor, unlock a king, 650
And lead a captive court in magic string;
Can act the patriot, warn her native state
Of lucky seasons, or of threaten'd fate;
By well plann'd hits a double purpose gain,
Enact a heroine, and a hero chain. 655
Minds, to bear away, must suit the state they
hold,
Grave in the church, and in the navy bold;
Keen at Change-alley, vent'rous still at Lloyd's,
And most discreet where G—nv—e all bestrides.
[65]
Thus a soft creature, touch'd by courtly air, 660
Could wield the scourge, and laugh at mute despair;
Let loose hell-furies on a people's head,
Nor shrink when fathers, mothers, husbands, bled;
Make the pale hero aid the murd'rous scene,
And e'en outdo a scepter'd heroine; 665
Her private vengeance sate mid public strife,
And think it kind to spare her victim's life!
Ah! what avails, with soul like this, to find
Such charms of person with such powers of mind?
Could heaven-born love approach these bloody stains,
Could feeling melt where vengeance fires the veins?
Scandal may still reproach the hero's name, 672
Who left his wedded love for thee and shame;
Or modern virtue may deride the charge,
And hold a heart, when profligate, is large; 675
In vain they palliate, needlessly they blame,
Such deeds, bright fair, must fix a deathless fame.
Her name all gone, departed all her dears,
Poor E—— sinks into the vale of years;
Sometimes, by starts, produced to public view, 680
With crazy G——, or obscene old Q;
[66]
Or, match'd with big Squallanté, strains her throat,
While sister-sympathies attune the note.
Sometimes new-gifted by the public tongue,
With titled lover, or with husband young; 685
Yet soon these rumours, like her beauties, fade,
And scorn conducts her to the wintry shade!
V— C—.
What picture should we say were drawn to life,
A promis'd peeress, and a statesman's wife?
A portly figure, not quite six foot high, 690
Nor 'twixt the shoulders three, yet very nigh;
With full bare bosom that defies the wind,
Well-suiting breast-work to the tower behind;
With open count'nance, that disdains to hide,
Eye proudly rolling, and majestic stride; 695
Limbs such as huntress Dian once did own,
With fair round flesh upon no spindle bone:
Who scorns to shrink from our inclement air,
Arms, ankles, bosom, neck, and shoulders, bare;
Whose voice her inward greatness not belies, 700
Not speaks but thunders, lightens, and defies;
[67]
Who in all scenes supports an equal name,
High struts at court, high ventures in the game;—
Such is the picture, truly drawn to life,
A promis'd peeress, and a statesman's wife; 705
E'en such is she who stoutly holds the rein
O'er him whose double strings had burst in twain.
L——
C—— C——.
From Scotia's mountains, heralded by fame,
Young, noble, beautiful, Belinda came;
Then her's no brighter lineage graced our isle, 710
Her sire the great, the good, the loved A——e;—
(A patriot race, who mid all perils stood,
And seal'd their country's freedom with their blood;
Pluck'd from a recreant prince the diadem,
And saved for Brunswick's much-loved race the gem;)
Her sire still oped his hospitable door 716
To glad the stranger, and relieve the poor;
Fair rose his palace, nobly spread his lawn,
Yet seem'd as much all others' as his own;
[68]
In grove or grotto play'd the village train, 720
And every stranger trod the cultured plain;
His happy tenants bore th' unwrinkled brow,
And "live for ever!" was the gen'ral vow.
Thus nobly sprung, Belinda's charms unfold
More than is given to birth, or bought with gold;
The rose and lily blending in her face, 726
And all expression beaming through all grace;
Her peerless figure such as poets feign,
When Venus first ascended from the main;
See how her motions vibrate to the heart, 730
See every limb a master-piece of art!
Not Venus self knew more alluring wiles,
Or more bewitching, more eternal smiles.
No damp, no cloud, o'erhung her opening day,
Still witty, wanton, frolicsome, and gay; 735
The ground she tript seem'd livelier from her tread,
The hearts she pierced throb'd sprightlier as they
bled.
No prudish mopish arts she deign'd to try,
Nor grudg'd her beauties to the kindling eye;
Still seen where fashion held her trophied court;
Still known the foremost in the throng'd resort, 741
[69]
No vot'ry sought a smile, and sought in vain;
None praised unheard, unnoticed told his pain;
Averse her bounteous soul to hide a charm
Which nature gave so many hearts to warm, 745
Her ling'ring foot, the chariot mounting slow,
Displayed the ancle to the circling beau;
The welcom'd eye perused her melting shape,
And half forgot the intervening crape.
That season past, when, on the natal day, 750
Poor Pye still labours through his annual lay;
[70]
When hoops and farthingales in great distress
High bolt upright are seen amidst the press;
Now all, but splay-foot cits from London, strain,
To brace their nerves against the next campaign;
The gay Belinda seeks her native shades, 756
And shines the fairest of the Grampian maids.
Here joyous summer spreads so bright a hue,
The meads so green, the distant hills so blue;
So glassy clear expands the inland lake, 760
So rich in varied charms the forests shake;
So chearful Nature gambols o'er the plain,
In youth's first bloom, just freed from winter's
chain;—
That southern climes may boast their double spring,
And fruitage cull'd through every season bring; 765
[71]
Tame, listless, dull, their changeless scenes appear,
Nor know the varied joys of summer here.
Here too Belinda, sick of London toys,
Found fresh delights, and brighter-blooming joys:
An honest steward, from her sire's domains, 770
With thrifty hand had cull'd no trivial gains;
His thousand pence had swoln to thousand pounds,
And rich and ample rose his purchased bounds;
Bright wheel'd his chariot, fair his mansion stood;
None but a Celt had guess'd his want of blood. 775
A son he had, and thereby hangs a tale,
A manlier youth ne'er trod a highland vale;
With stately figure and with shoulders broad,
That well might ease old Atlas of his load;
His well-made limbs, health, strength, and vigour,
braced,
780
His open count'nance bloom and courage graced;
By youths like these fair ladies hearts are won,
Though dapper elves may squire them through the
Ton.
Belinda saw him —— Need the rest be said?
Belinda sigh'd that she was still a maid; 785
[72]
And when the youth, who fear'd to look so high,
Perceiv'd, yet durst not read her speaking eye,
She felt 'twas folly thus unblest to prove,
Grow green and yellow, and not tell her love;
The Gordian knot she cut; and then with pride 790
The wond'ring youth embraced his high-born bride.
With him she'd bear the knapsack, scorn the crown,
And pleased forsakes the follies of the town.
D——
of R——.
As youthful monarchs grace an ancient realm,
As sapling vines adorn the ripened elm 795
As yearling shoots, in aged trunks new set,
Sap from their pith, strength from their vigour get;
As slender woodbine, join'd to moss-grown walls,
New beauty gives, and fattens as it crawls;
[73]
So ancient widows match'd to youthful spouses, 800
And bringing with them store of lands and houses,
New deck the beaux, themselves new deck'd appear,
The youth full pockets gets, the dame fresh cheer.
No wedded ills their wiser hymens know,
To teaze the gamesome belle, the frolic beau— 805
She ne'er shall mourn for splendid fêtes
declined,
Six months deformed, and six weeks more confined;
[74]
The mother's dire dilemmas ne'er shall know,
Twixt saving shapes, and humouring Rousseau.
[75]
She, sweetly lapt in John's encircling arms, 810
Shall ne'er be waked by bantlings' night alarms;
[76]
Nor daily forced maternity to feign,
And all her feelings 'fore each guest to strain.
She ne'er, sequester'd from the courtly throng,
Shall meditate her schemes the woods among, 815
With what old trunk her blooming grafts to join,
With manor vast, and much be-quarter'd line;
[77]
Oft ponder o'er the wily, vent'rous plan,
To hide her purpose, and entrap the man;
How from seclusion her ripe fruits to draw, 820
And burst upon the town with most eclât;
[78]
How, quaintly turn'd, the paragraph to frame,
Just hint the talk, and half produce the name;
[79]
Ward off, with pious care, and eye so wary,
The lacquey, captain, gard'ner, 'pothecary; 825
[80]
Till, to a spouse consign'd her troublous charge,
At length the weary guardian's set at large.—
[81]
To him, the pressing claims of custom's
duns,
A snug provision for the younger sons,
A tempting dower to gain the daughters love, 830
Shall ne'er the stud displace, or game reprove.
He ne'er with body curv'd, and cap in hand,
Before the Premier's strutting form shall stand;
Recount his members, and his votes recall,
And represent his boys are now grown tall; 835
Beg him his fortune's gaping wounds to heal,
And fix his leeches on the common weal.
[82]
On one long level road of bliss unbroke,
This joyous team shall draw the silken yoke;
The same delights which bound them first together,
Shall still remain untouch'd by time or weather; 841
While bloom her fields, her dividends are paid,
Her yearly board with large rack-rents are spread,
While to his purse a full supply is brought
He gets whate'er he seeks, whate'er he sought; 845
And while in equal plenty shines her gold,
What is't to him although she grows more old?
Nor are her joys with liberty eloped;
She shines one winter more than once she hoped;
[83]
The fashion leads; from scandal's shafts exempt,
Still bears the honour of the power to tempt; 851
And sure till all her wishing days are past,
Her Strephon's charms and vig'rous port shall last.
L———
P———.
In ancient Troy, a town well known to fame,
A hero liv'd, Sir Pandarus his name, 855
'Twas his, when warriors loosed the chariot team,
Or courtly dames threw by their wool to dream,—
[84]
To read the wishful look, the longing eye,
And whisper soft of blest occasions nigh,
Of mutual flames, of interviews conceal'd, 860
And dear delights to Nox alone reveal'd.
'Twas his through lanes untrod, and alleys dark,
At noon of night to lead th' advent'rous spark,
Where in disguised attire, unseen convey'd,
All-tuned to rapture glowed the panting maid. 865
[85]
If deathless laurel round his temples shines,
Such wreathes as Cyprus rears, and Shakespeare
twines;
While warriors vast like nameless donkies rot,
And Troy itself is sought where Troy was not:—
Though midst a colder race, and colder clime, 870
Where frost-bit pleasure scarce e'er gained its prime,
O! ne'er the genial dome forgotten be,
Where love unbinds the zone, and revels free;
Where, from hot suppers, titled dames repair,
Nor all-work hacknies seek, or curtain'd chair; 875
[86]
All loose to joy in nature's charms confest,
Unheard embracing, and unseen embraced;
Nor dreading ought that not with love accords,
The lash of sland'ring tongues, or jealous lords.
Here, under cover, billet doux convey'd 880
Nor fear the careless page, or prying maid;
Through hands well-skill'd the assignations speed,
Fresh blooming heirs to barren beds succeed,
And gentle maids from leading apes are freed.
Sage sophs of old have labour'd to attain 885
The happiest point of mingling joy and gain:
A vain pursuit for dolts like them to think of,
Who scarce felt pleasure oft'ner than the chin-cough:
[87]
A wiser Pandara of modern time,
As scandal tells, made bliss with profit chime; 890
Here set the dice, enkindled there the flame,
And still, from mantling pleasure, cull'd the game.
Does fortune smile, and does she win the bet?
The happy lover hastes to pay the debt:
Does fortune frown? No avarice Cupid knows—
His claim the joyful paramour foregoes. 896
Thus, never losing, still the hostess wins,
And plenteous guineas spring from teeming sins.
C———D———.
Though sweet its odours, and though bright its
hues,
By kindly suns matured, and summer dews, 900
How many a flower puts forth the bloom, and dies,
Unknown to fost'ring hands, or wond'ring eyes!
How many a virgin, like the desert flower
Condemned to distant vale, and silent hour,
All unregarded, wastes her blooming prime, 905
All unregarded, yields her charms to time!
[88]
Though never cheek disclosed a softer die,
Though never beam'd a more alluring eye,
Though never bosom with more am'rous swell,
Inflamed the gay, or made the saint rebel; 910
These all in vain benignant nature rears,
An Ex'ter comes not in a hundred years.
No eye to read, no scene to shew her charms,
Some clown receives her in his callous arms;
Her humble office, 'mid neglected shades, 915
To tend her younglings, ply domestic trades,
To keep the keys, and scold the loit'ring maids.
But happy she, by brighter stars design'd,
To shine in public and attract mankind;
[89]
And all her charms to all advantage seen, 920
Now smile the goddess, and now step the queen!
Ne'er from her lips, the accents, faltring, slow,
Like miss from boarding school's ungraceful flow;
Full, free, matured, the notes sonorous rise,
And plaudits loud are mix'd with silent sighs. 925
Cast in the shade, by other objects crost,
No motion fine, or witching leer is lost;
Caught by a thousand eyes, borne on bright feather,
Talk'd with the news, and ponder'd with the weather.
To scantling nature, here does licensed art 930
A richer hue, and mellower shape, impart;
By neighb'ring rouge, the brighter eyes convey
More brilliant glances to their panting prey;
[90]
While floating robes, from fashion's newest mould,
Just what she wills, and as she wills, unfold. 935
Hence little Nell o'er Charles bore sovereign sway,
While crowds of rival beauties pass'd away;
[91]
Hence Polly Peachum, with her smirking face
Shone first a Duke's sweet friend, and then her
Grace.
[92]
Hence stale G———i, saw her very floor
940
With Tyrian purple quite bedizened o'er;
[93]
Saw to her arms a pr——ly lover given,
Whom M——y could not bind, nor vows of heaven.
Hence hoyden J——n rears her triple brood,
And decks the last with gouts of r——l blood; 945
Hence to her fêtes a princely host repair,
And Cobbet sounds abroad the bill of fare,
While saints look blue, and sinners cry, O rare!
[94]
Hence still some peer S— L—r's livery
wears,
Who o'er the pit her large bare bosom rears; 950
Throws wide to every eye the gates of bliss,
Till e'en the chimney sweeps begin to hiss.
Hence stately B——n boasts her warlike
lord,
Ev'n one who struts in red, and wears a sword;
While hinting paragraphs, with varying carriage,
Now sink to settlements, now rise to marriage. 956
Hence lively M——n brisk and gay by trade,
Makes fickle fortune serve a waiting–maid;
Strange luck indeed! so many turns to nick it,
And win a thousand with each lottery ticket! 960
[95]
Hence F——n, tall by nature, train'd by
art
To swim the motions of a tonish part,
Now acts in truth the part she feign'd a while,
And shines the best bred c—nt—s of our isle.
O boast of fashion, arts half deified, 965
Claim'd by the great their birthright and their pride!
How quickly learnt! How little chang'd you shew,
Caught by the mean, and mimick'd by the low!
A well-made sharper, in a well-made dress,
Shines quite as fine a gallant as his Grace; 970
New phrases sports, new attitudes devises,
Strikes with a bow, or with a frock surprises.
A player's girl, not much by nature gifted
By some strange chance to court from green-room
shifted,
974
Shines in the groupe, who shone erewhile so high,
That her's and their's seem'd quite a different sky;
Her mien more graceful, and her dress more choice,
And, harder still! more known to public voice.
[96]
Thus on the gay parterre, by art-wove bower,
Each gazer's eyes attracts the favour'd flower; 980
A thousand sweets its site conspicuous yields,
Unknown to lovelier wreathes that deck the fields.
But from the dunghill see the gard'ner chuse
A plant of statelier stem, and brighter hues;
Fast by the bower the vig'rous scion stands, 985
And fresh in leaf, and full in bloom expands:
No more the passing gazer turns aside
To those which shone before in matchless pride;
Unmark'd their puny stalks, and colours lie,
The dunghill plant alone attracts the eye; 990
'Twas but the place which made their hues so fine,
Its beauties wanted but a place to shine.
L——
C———.
Come, knowing Muse, some moving themes im-
part,
Some strains more grateful to the female heart;
Say how the polish'd belle, the finished dame 995
May farthest spread, and most sublime her fame;
How o'er the crowd the gay gallant may rise,
And pairs, that pant for glory, touch the skies!
[97]
Young, blooming, gay, to fashion formed by rule,
And quite accomplish'd from a London school, 1000
[98]
With fine effect Dorinda play'd her charms,
The glance that catches, and the smile that warms,
[99]
The sprightly motion, or the languid role,
With all those nameless things that touch the soul.
Nor play'd in vain——A youth of noble race 1005
Beheld with kindling soul her early grace,
To willing ears his rapt'rous passion sigh'd,
And with a title crown'd his happy bride.
While youth, around, her gayest pleasures shed,
Wealth bless'd their lot, and mutual love their bed;
Given to their vows the wish'd for offspring came,
And heap'd new incense on the nuptial flame. 1012
[100]
Full of his bliss, the gen'rous lord confess'd
The golden treasure which his love possess'd;
Wealth, splendour, pleasure, scatter'd at her feet, 1015
And strove each wish, ere scarce conceiv'd, to meet.
More stately rose his palace, spread his halls,
The artists' pride adorn'd his spacious walls;
His park's fair paths more gaily taught to rove,
The myrtle arbour, and the scented grove; 1020
To bless her hours bright social joys are stored,
And frequent guests shine brilliant round her board.
Blest in a wife, the crown of joys to lend,
His bounteous fortune bless'd him with a friend;
A man who knew the world, with wit at will, 1025
Who either sex could charm with varying skill:
The days of youth together had they pass'd,
The hours of frolic, hours too sweet to last!
Together shared their serious thoughts, or toys,
Their nameless pains, and dreams of future joys.
The friend, more gay than rich, was oft beset 1031
With aking forecast, and fiends of debt;
These frequent ills the generous lord repair'd,
And nobly free the gifts of fortune shared;
[101]
With liberal bosom threw his coffers wide, 1035
Improv'd his pleasures, and his wants supplied;
Well pleas'd th' unequal lot of wealth to mend,
And by his favours fix a faithful friend.
Thus long endear'd, long aided, and carest,
His roof at length receiv'd the welcome guest; 1040
Glad he display'd the sweets that bless'd his life,
His blooming children, and his beauteous wife;
Told his fair partner of his friend's desert,
And bade her love the man that shared his heart.
With kindling bosom, and with scheme half
plan'd,
1045
Dorinda's charms Lothario deeply scan'd;
How great the bliss to win so bright a prize!
How vast the glory in the public eyes!
How proud the triumph over vulgar ties!
Poor were the victory o'er some careless dame, 1050
Whose bosom scarce e'er warm'd the nuptial flame;
Who ne'er a husband's generous kindness felt,
Nor at the mother's name was taught to melt.
But here, through bands so strongly form'd to break,
While love's first blushes yet informed the cheek;
[102]
To burst the ties a husband fondly wove, 1056
By deeds of kindness, and by words of love;
While prattling infants round the mother twined,
And cast their golden fetters o'er her mind;
More brilliant still, the ear of Fame to rend, 1060
The conqu'ror's self the husband's inmost friend,
With trust still honour'd, still with favors crown'd,
Won by his love, and by his bounty bound:—
How would th' exploit adorn Lothario's name,
Above the common hope, the vulgar aim! 1065
Sweet were his tones, his features ever mild,
Still with her cares he sigh'd, her joys he smiled;
Still met his eye her eye, his thought her thought,
Still words congenial looks congenial caught.
Dorinda well had learn'd to move with grace, 1070
Display her figure, and adjust her face;
To guide her snow-white fingers o'er the wire,
Outvie the rival, and the gallant fire,
And force the brightest circle to admire.
Thus taught to shine, and leave despis'd behind 1075
Those arts which chasten and exalt the mind;
Which arm the heart against the treach'rous elf,
And teach fair woman to respect herself;
[103]
The touch, the look, to meet with proud disdain,
Which point to ends that Honour counts a stain;
With secret joy the glowing dame survey'd 1081
The rapid conquest which her beauties made;
First heard his sighs, then listen'd as he vow'd,
His looks return'd, and his embrace allow'd,
Forgot her honour, yielded up her charms, 1085
And blest Lothario revel'd in her arms.
What though a husband, from his dream awoke,
Pierced to the heart, and madden'd with the stroke,
Bemoan'd with anguish'd looks, and accents wild,
His bed dishonour'd, and his race defiled, 1090
His friend a traitor, and his love undone,
And hope no more his lot beneath the sun!
What though the infant, climbing by his knees,
With piteous look its father's anguish sees,
Strives with its arts his sorrows to compose, 1095
And calls its mother to relieve his woes!
What though the fair, her short-lived vision fled,
Sees endless horrors crowd around her head,
A generous husband sinking in despair,
An offspring left without a mother's care, 1100
[104]
With grief in age her tender parents torn,
Compell'd to curse the day their child was born!
Unpitied she, the scoff of public fame,
Doom'd through long years to weep her lasting
shame,
Her very children shudd'ring at her name!—— 1105
Such trivial ills must wait on feats so bright,
No mighty vict'ry e'er proved harmless quite;
If petty miseries high-soul'd heroes weigh'd,
No field were fought, no conquest e'er were made.
Now o'er the crowd sublime, Lothario's name 1110
Ranks with the foremost in the lists of fame;
Where'er he goes, the greybeard mothers shake,
And e'en his name makes wedded brows to ake.
And shall not glory soothe her idle moan?
Without such feats the fair had died unknown, 1115
Nor at the assize, nor in the epic shone.
[105]
H———M———.
Our morning ride, my muse, begins to close,
And nature calls us to a short repose,
Ere, still more daring, our bold verse aspire
To raise a song of flame to men of fire. 1120
Yet ere we check the flight, or pull the rein,
Together let us tune a prouder strain;
No longer sportive, but sincerely pay
To nobler themes a tributary lay.
Shall Fashion's fleeting offspring claim the song,
And generous notes their little date prolong, 1126
Yet, from the Muse, to her no tribute rise,
Whose influence gilds our fields, and cheers our
skies?
Blest is the bard, whom Truth shall not disown,
While swell his notes to celebrate a throne; 1130
Who sings, with honest pride, and heart elate,
The first in virtue as the first in state;
His subject chosen by a people's choice,
His lays the echo of the public voice:
[106]
Who never dreads lest his suspicious style 1135
With loud applauses should provoke a smile;
With pure approval secret sneers should raise,
A bitter satire under seeming praise.
Say, shall the censor read th' historic page,
And search the secret annals of our age? 1140
No whisp'ring plots, or fraudful arts he'll find
By thee to mar a people's peace design'd;
No private ends pursued by black intrigues,
Won by pernicious war, or perjur'd leagues;
With bold deceits that misbecome thy sex, 1145
Thou ne'er wer't known the statesman to perplex;
To shake the court, to sheath or draw the sword,
Confound the council, and disgrace thy lord.
[107]
Once in thy life——and then, how blest the zeal
That led thee to assume the public weal!— 1150
When yearning factions bore allegiance down,
And near bereft thy husband of a crown;
Thou, with a spirit high, and dauntless mien,
That spoke the wife, and well announc'd the queen,
Didst justice, honour, public virtue, bring, 1155
To save the state, and help an injur'd king;
To scare those wolves, that, prowling for their prey,
Long'd for the dark, and strove to drown the day.
Or let the censor to thy court repair,
He'll find no rampant vices foster'd there; 1160
No lewd debauch the nightly vigil keep,
No Sunday revels make the pious weep.
No husband's feelings there th' adult'ress shocks,
And bravely gay his shame and anguish mocks;
No knavish courtier falls a willing prey, 1165
And courting fortune throws his all away,
To catch the royal favour loses still,
[108]
In hopes far richer draughts of wealth to swill,
And from the bleeding nation quaff his fill.
Or turn thee, censor, view her private life, 1170
Attend the mother, and observe the wife:
Here duty, honour, temp'rate virtues shed
Their verdant wreathes around a fruitful bed;
A happy husband feels her cares bestow
Domestic joys which monarchs rarely know; 1175
Maternal cares a blooming offspring own,
And cottage pleasures spring around the throne.
Rare virtues even in vale remote from town,
Mark'd in the low, and honour'd by the clown—
But oh! how rarely found to grace a crown! 1180
[109]
Nor fortune here incurs her wonted blame,
And leaves to merit but an empty name;
Thy virtues meet their well-bestow'd reward,
Heaven sends its blessings, sends its power to guard.
Free from those ills which oft attend the great, 1185
And make them envy ev'n the humblest state,
Thy happy years in peace have pass'd away,
And beams still bright adorn thy verging day.
By brilliant prospects from thy home convey'd
To shores where Honour dwells in Freedom's shade,
To meet thy kindred, meet a husband there, 1191
Thou for a welcome didst not find a snare;
Nor all unknowing, all unknown, behold
A train deceitful, and a husband cold;
Thy bridal transports, and thy virgin charms, 1195
Next morn deserted for a wanton's arms;
No friend to guide, no guardian to protect,
By fears opprest, and wounded by neglect;
To a lone mansion, to thy grief consign'd
With solitude to feed thine aching mind; 1200
To dream of former hopes, of courtly scenes,
The joys of state, and equipage of queens;
[110]
To waste thy days unconscious of delight,
And bathe in tears thy solitary night;
When led by nature's counsel to impart 1205
Thy secret sorrows to a parent's heart,
To find this wretched solace ev'n denied,
The seal of honour broke, its laws defied;——
While he who vow'd thy weakness to defend,
In joy thy partner, and in grief thy friend, 1210
To other cares, to other pleasures fled,
Deserting thine to share another's bed,
Mock'd at thy woes, and scoffing at thy pain,
Had joy'd to hear thy heart had burst in twain:—
From ills like these kind Heav'n has set thee free,
How sad the doom if such a princess be! 1216
Unheeded, save by those who deeply feel
For private sorrows and the public weal,
Thou didst not in a lone, obscure retreat,
Peruse the vaunting records of the fête, 1220
Where rank with graces, wealth with beauty strove,
To fix the gazer, and provoke to love;
Where brilliant gems profusely shone in pride,
Where eyes more brilliant all the gems outvied;
[111]
Where branching lustres pour'd around the hall
Meridian brightness to illume the ball; 1226
Where youthful lords and dames, their country's
boast,
Paid homage to the hostess and the host;
Where, famed for manners, much by nature graced,
Thy royal husband far outshone the rest, 1230
Himself the host, himself the banquet's pride——
But in thy place another did preside!——
Such pangs from thee did heaven benign avert,
Nor with such insult poignarded thy heart.
Left by the father, thou didst not behold, 1235
In tears, yet pleas'd, thy infant's charms unfold;
And, sighing, in the little smiler's face,
With mournful pride the sire's own features trace;
In wonder that this image could not move
His melting soul to soft returns of love, 1240
Or joys more grateful to a parent shed,
Than bolster'd beauties and a barren bed.
Thou didst not with maternal anguish mourn
Thine only babe from thine embraces torn;
[112]
Fear lest affection's filial germ should die, 1245
Snatch'd from thy fost'ring hand, and watchful eye;
And sadly weep lest thy hard fate should prove
A daughter's duty like a husband's love.——
Far other scenes in wedlock didst thou find,
An offspring numerous, and a husband kind. 1250
Led for a respite to thy frequent tears,
To chear thy widow'd, more than widow'd years;
By some poor pastimes that might call to mind
Thine early scenes while fortune yet was kind;
By deeds of bounty to the wretch distrest, 1255
Deeds rarely practised by the great, or blest;
By friendship's soothing converse to beguile
The tedious hours, and teach thy grief to smile;—
Thou didst not find a lurking adder dart
Its secret venom to thy trusting heart; 1260
The sycophant that now, with fawning look,
Thy bounty courted, and thy sate partook,
Lured by some selfish end, some damning bribe,
Become the basest of the lying tribe,
Pervert thy motives, and thy deeds defame, 1265
And strive to fix dishonour on thy name;
[113]
Search in thy pleasures, scanty, humble, rare,
For deeds to blacken, and for words to snare;
Ev'n in the orphan whom thy cares did save
From pining want, and an untimely grave, 1270
By dev'lish art, the wish'd occasion feign
To blast thine honour and thy truth to stain!—
O malice hard to bear, and keenly felt,
Where black ingratitude is join'd to guilt!
Where many a former pang the bosom knew, 1275
And piercing slander tears the wound anew!—
Such venom'd ills far banish from thy fate,
A generous husband, and a guardian state.
Forlorn, deserted, sicken'd, and distress'd
By slander harrow'd, by neglect oppress'd, 1280
Thy fancy led by present ills to roam,
Where honour'd parents bless'd thine early home—
Thou didst not sink to hear the tale of woe,
A father slaughter'd by a barb'rous foe;
While bravely struggling with o'erwhelming fate,
And nobly falling to support a state;— 1286
Yet ere the final stroke of death was given,
Yet ere his soul had wing'd her flight to Heaven,
[114]
Left for a while to learn his country's fall,
His people spoil'd, his children reft of all; 1290
To think of her, once seeming blest and great,
The promis'd sovereign of the noblest state,
Now in a foreign land forsaken quite,
With no protector to assert her right—
Then finding nought on earth to sooth his woes,
A hero's struggles like a martyr's close! 1296
His very bones denied their native soil,
His very ashes sentenced to exile!
Thou didst not hear how deep this killing dart
Had torn thine anguish'd mother's bleeding heart,
While all distracted o'er the bier she wept, 1301
And guardian reason scarce his station kept;
Thy hapless kindred scatter'd far from home,
A stranger's land with grief-worn steps to roam.
Thou didst not o'er such sorrows weep alone 1305
Sigh to the winds, and to the midnight moan;
Amidst a people famed for generous deeds,
For softer natures, and for purer creeds,
Not see one comforter thy gates attend,
One noble own himself in grief thy friend, 1310
[115]
One prouder soul the frowns of vice despise,
And o'er unfeeling meanness greatly rise!
Far from such ills——and ever be they
far!
A fate how different rules thy happy star!
From friends perfidious, and the foes alarms, 1315
Thy Britons shield thee with their guardian arms;
With ready vengeance marshal round thy throne,
And hold thy safety dearer than their own.
Should any grief upon thy peace intrude,
For griefs will find the prosp'rous, vex the good,
Thy rising care shall early solace chear, 1321
A people join, a husband wipe thy tear!
[116]
[117]
[118]
THE
EPICS
OF THE TON,
BOOK
THE SECOND;
BEING
THE
MALE BOOK
[119]
THE
EPICS OF THE TON:
THE MALE BOOK.
____________
Come, listen to my strain, for I am he
Who sung erewhile of Female A and B;
Cone, for you know me not, though I have strung
My lyre to themes in prose or verse unsung:
To woman's glory blown the trump of fame, 5
Tales yet untold, and deeds without a name;
Now louder blasts aloft triumphant rise,
And waft the mighty male ones to the skies,
Who still at White's, or at St. Stephen's late,
Now shake the dice-box, now hold fast the state;
[120]
Swear at Newmarket, swagger at reviews, 11
And now recruit the forces, now the stews;
In side-box glitter, gild a birth-day train,
Eat, drink, and die——Come, listen to my strain!
D—— of P——.
Who's in? who's out? a question hard as vain,
Before we speak, the outs are in again: 16
[121]
We see our error;—while we turn about
To mend the phrase,—good lack! the ins are out:
Thus all by turns enjoy the sweets and sorrow,
They're here to day, and they are gone to morrow. 20
Blest be my bounteous fortune that in grace
No statesman made me, gave me not a place:
In Downing-street, sad wailings heard by night
May sound the dirges of the parting sprite;
The badge, sweet fleeting relic! may the eye 25
Oft view 'mid saltest tears, and groan-like sigh;
With humble will the placeman may resign,
Mild as the felon in the fatal twine;——
Snug in my Cot, the Courier I peruse,
My coffee quaff, and chuckle o'er the news; 30
Or, quaintly moral o'er the doleful fun,
Observe that nought is fix'd beneath the sun.
The wise and good shall ever, in my eyes,
Or out or in, be held the good and wise;
And perch'd in office, or a patriot brave, 35
A fool's a fool, and every knave's a knave.
Does selfish Helluo boast his wealthy charge,
And rest secure on bottom broad and large?
[122]
Or does dame Fortune slily kick the stool,
Upset the breech, and Helluo, proved a fool, 40
Bawl for those rights on which he just had trod,
While mole-ey'd rabbles shout their molten God?—
Full o'er his back my honest lash shall swing,
Full in his ears my epic notes shall ring. 44
Descends the state-coach from hard rock to bog?
Is Premier Hydra changed for Premier Log?
Well pleas'd but careless I'll behold the pother,
Elude the one, and leap upon the other.
[123]
Does G—— rear his officed head on high,
And seem to shake the spheres, and touch the sky?
With equal compass shall I mete the wight, 51
And clip some twenty cubits from his height.
Does drowsy P—— o'er the treasure dream,
And deeply ponder, or to ponder seem?
Of the state-wain appear the reins to guide, 55
While ten smart lacquies lash on either side?—
I'll leave the head-piece to his sweet repose,
And ply my Epics, while he plies his doze.
Though H——y smooth me, R——e with ledgers
cram,
Though C——g scratch me with an epigram; 60
Still on my muse I'll call with courtly ease,
And tune my lyre to figures such as these——
With votive tablets thus, in times of yore,
The branchless trunk was seen bedizen'd o'er;
(The gifts were hung by seamen's grateful hand, 65
Who, least expecting, touch'd the wish'd for land;)
[124]
The goodly sight the trav'ler stopt to see,
And all, 'twas said, to view the votive tree;
But while each tablet caught the wond'ring eye,
With golden lines, and arms emblazon'd high, 70
Who e'er regarded the suspending stock,
An useful support, but a shapeless block?
Thus Britain's colours on the standard float,
Thus may-day wreathes around the pole are wrought;
There glory shines, here mirth in gayest mood, 75
While all they hold by is a piece of wood.
Where hair-skill'd swains their oily fingers
twirl,
The scissors flourish, and invade the curl,
[125]
Thus powder'd peruques, placed in rows so dight,
Attract the gazer, and the poll invite, 80
And hide the block that holds them to the light.
Thus though the staff of state where towers the
head,
Be made of timber and congenial lead,
Wreathes, colours, tablets, wigs, around it hung, 84
Themselves though naught, while round a work-
shop
flung,
Fixt on a prop, aloft in air may shew,
Amaze the great ones, and astound the low;
[126]
Seem something brilliant, swell with conscious pride,
And on the car of state triumphant ride.
L—
H—— P——.
When might foes, now mightier than before, 90
Turn all their wrath on our deserted shore;
When many a king dethroned, and plunder'd state
Would seem to warn us of approaching fate;
Whom should we seek to snatch the wav'ring helm,
And through the shoals conduct the plunging realm?
The man who oft, mid tempests loud and dark, 96
Has seen the breakers dash around the bark;
Who proudly resolute, and sternly brave,
Seems to require no second hand to save;
Plans for himself, and what he plans performs, 100
As deaf to prayers as to the raging storms;
Who stout in words, no less in count'nance bold,
Confirms the timid, animates the cold;
And seems prepared, when all at length is lost,
Still to stand up, perish on the post: 105
Such is the man for this dark season fit,
Such once we had, for such a man was PITT.
[127]
Peace to his shade! Be all his faults forgot!
Complete perfection is no human lot.
He was a statesman from his cradle bred, 110
And high and lofty tower'd his youthful head;
His idol glory, matchless power his pride,
All meaner ends were thrown with scorn aside;
While wealth and honours on his nod await,
He lived a commoner, and died in debt;— 115
A debt his grateful country pays in tears,
And counts it little of her vast arrears.
[128]
When Europe sunk, and Britain stood aghast,
And Freedom trembled at the sweeping blast;
[129]
Thou ne'er wert known, with dangling, petty grace,
At Lady Bab's to shew thy simp'ring face; 121
[130]
At routs to flutter, or at hops to trip,
A bow to study, criticize a dip,
[131]
Consult with Hoby on the newest boot,
And hear Floriche upon a birth-day suit; 125
[132]
Thy trappings more than taxes to debate,
And more thy motions study than the state;
[133]
Or still at H—ll—d House to smirk and dine,
And charm my lady by your looks so fine;
[134]
Accept her box to snuff the country air, 130
And waste your many hours of leisure there;
[135]
Politely pliant or to dine or dance,
And but in council give a thought to France:
[136]
Or, in the senate, quite as brilliant grown,
And quite as pliant, swell, in gentle tone, 135
[137]
The smooth round speech, whose lubricating phrase
Aims at some pretty though a thousand ways;—
[138]
(Soft its meander, save where Vandal force
Of crabbed figures cross its limpid course;
[139]
Those imps which make the senses reel, and, zounds!
Mistake a cypher for a thousand pounds; 141
[140]
While pitying friends excuse thy stammering jaw,
By humbly pleading thou wer't but cat's-paw:—)
Or shrinking hear the loud denouncer's call,
Another Felix 'fore another Paul; 145
Quit thy crude measure without shame or sorrow,
To day propose it, and retract to-morrow;
Content, though crowds should sneer, and Cobbett
teaze,
To hold thy station, and be quite at ease.
Such wer't not thou. By great ambition led, 150
To rule in Britain, and on France to tread;
No silly joys, the fluttering crowd that fire,
Possess'd thy heart, or waken'd thy desire;
One play seem'd quite enough in fourteen years,
And women's smiles were pass'd like actor's tears.
[141]
Still, full of Britain's fame and Europe's fate, 156
Days spent in business, nights in strong debate,
By thee no sports were sought, no tasteful hours,
Till nature mourn'd o'er thine exhausted powers;
Saw thy griev'd spirit part with many a groan, 160
More pierced by Europe's ills than by thine own.
In days of yore, when statesmen slowly grew,
And circling seasons brought them forth to view;
They studied men, the nation's temper felt,
And deeply search'd where public interest dwelt.
Now politicians spring like hot-bed fruits, 166
We place the dunghill and the mushroom shoots;
Soak'd for a while in Cam, or Isis' stream,
Where sport the fishes while the draughtsmen dream:
Or warm'd with keener rays of northern light, 170
Where youth, like pretty dancers, flash and fight;
Where wrangling wits dispute of Nature's laws,
And find, ye gods! effects without a cause:
[142]
Prop'd by young friends who take the hint for shouts,
Admire his talk, and cheer him when he spouts;
Gaze on his dress and eulogize his toes, 176
And snatch the crumbs which, pleased, around he
throws;
See the young statesman o'er the treasure tower,
And, like his fellow-insects, shine his hour.
S——
P——.
But cease, my muse, forbear another blow, 180
O spare the vanquish'd, nor th' o'erthrown o'erthrow!
[143]
Let Cobbett still employ Pancratian law,
And thrash the ashes of the man of straw;
Like Falstaff give the slain another wound,
And dash full pails upon the mouse that's drown'd:
As Spartan famed, I stoutly keep the field, 186
But scorn, beyond, to chace the rout that yield;
Or, lion-like, bestride them in disgrace,
And pour my full compassion in their face.
[144]
When unfledg'd statesmen drop in middle height, 190
And souse, confounded, from their vent'rous flight,
Kindly I'll lift from earth the callow brood,
And give them worms and flies their proper food.
But say, what forms in Banquo's seat arise?
What new-hatch'd spectre strikes my wincing eyes?
No light of heaven, or flame of hell it bears, 196
All dark as Chaos past the solar spheres.
Such have I seen, where tedious robesmen drawl
Their ill-toned wranglings to the echoing hall;
Where wits are strain'd to implicate the cause, 200
And old traditions patch the rents of laws.
Such have I seen, from Hall to House translated,
Prompt, as to brief, whate'er the point debated;
Long, forward, pert, strive hard for mere thread-
ends,
Distract his foes, and weary out his friends. 205
The full-bred cobler many a year has pass'd
Apprentice, journeyman, and master last;
Long o'er his warp and woof the weaver pored,
Long has the tailor squatted on his board,
Ere by keen hussefs, or gallants of note, 210
They're sought to weave the web, or shape the coat.
[145]
But, blest the star that watches o'er the great,
No craft's required for ministers of state!
The man who brings ten votes well train'd and tame,
Who dare not take in vain their maker's name; 215
Or he whose admiration bursts all bounds,
And still the virtues of the court resounds;
Or he who taught at spouting club, or bar,
To marshal breath, and wage the wordy war,
Speaks against time, 'gainst reason, law, and sense,
And looks above for well-earn'd recompence;——
Proudly may rise, for any station fit, 222
Which Fox aspired to, or was held by Pitt.
[146]
Domestic interests, all the abyss of trade,
He knows profoundly, when their umpire made:
[147]
Our best allies, their views, their strength, and
love,
226
The way to fix them, or to action move;
To meet the Italian's wiles with equal art,
And in the council conquer Buonaparte;——
All these he knows, at once in all complete, 230
Soon as he treads the dust of Downing Street.
Give him the War——He'll plan vast expeditions,
And bravely buy tremendous coalitions:
Grant him the Treasury—though he ne'er before
Devis'd a tax, or counted past a score, 235
To Pitt or Walpole he might now prescribe,
And e'en his merits need another bribe.
[148]
Blest be the choosing system which supports
The rights of patronage, and pride of courts!
[149]
Were skill and worth the only road to place, 240
How oft might greatness mourn the want of grace?
[150]
The deep-read scholar, in his closet then
Prepared to read the world and study men,
Might purblind practice by keen science aid,
And tread the paths by Benevento made; 245
[151]
And with new maxims, from no vulgar school,
Yet teach Old Britain o'er the world to rule.
[152]
But then alas! great titles would be vain,
And those who nothing know would nothing gain:
The man with many votes, or much of tongue, 250
Who with his patron's eyes sees right or wrong;
Fit for all places, save the poor and small,
And fit alike for any one, or all;
Then left to crawl unknown with brother worms,
Would curse the change, and rail at mad reforms.
Kind Heaven! for moon-struck Britain's sake,
inspire
256
This bust of statesman with a statesman's fire;
For inspiration can alone impart
What still to him remains a hidden art.
[153]
Let briefs to budgets turn; nor in his brain 260
Supreme o'er truth let legal fictions reign;
Nor pro and con alike his judgment please,
Nor laws and taxes bear the mark of fees.
L—— G———.
When great ones shake the head, and roll the
eye,
Like frowning meteors in the troubled sky; 265
Like Gog and Magog swell in civic hall,
As fierce, as callous, ,motionless and tall;
How shrink the souls of little men with dread,
How quakes the bosom, and how droops the head!
But oh! when human feelings melt the great,
When human kindness shines in lofty state, 271
When winning smiles the reverenced features wear,
When soothing sound the words of greatness bear;
Like genial beams that gild the April morn,
That crown the mountain, and the vale adorn, 275
The rays of favor from the noble shoot,
With hopes of summer, and of golden fruit.
Still as their sun ascends, their brightness sheds
More grateful blessings round the humbler heads;
[154]
Their kindly influence gives contentment birth, 280
And mortals own these imaged gods on earth.
And such they nature, Fox! whatever cloud
O'ercast thy honours, and thy glory shroud:
[155]
Thou ne'er wert known, with words of awful sound,
To shoot amazement through the states around;
[156]
Haste resolution with a thund'ring blow, 286
And raise from wavering friends the rankling foe;
[157]
Stride o'er the weak ally with sword in hand,
And bid them ruin seek at they command;
[158]
The torch of war o'er shudd'ring nations raise, 290
And shout delighted at the spreading blaze:
[159]
Chastise the dastard fools who, dead to shame,
Would damp and smother out the glorious flame;
[160]
Keep peace-struck crowds by traitors' pains in awe,
And loudly call for vigour past the law. 295
[161]
Thou, like a fire-tail'd comet in the heaven,
Above our trembling heads wert never driven,
[162]
Thy foes and worshippers dismayed alike,
And all thy glory to confound and strike!
[163]
Nor less the statesman's praise, who seems to feel
A heart-touch'd interest in the public weal; 301
[164]
Who loves to see a nation's coffers groan
With shining hoards, and but neglects his own.
Thou, Fox, didst never quaff the public springs,
And richly batten on the goodly things; 305
From loaves and fishes seek thy fortune's cure,
And rather fleece the people than be poor.
Thou ne'er, with strong prudential grasp, didst
strain
To prop thy glories with substantial gain;
Bid law and honour wink the while aside, 310
While two tall posts thy full-stretch'd legs bestride.
Thou, by example, ne'er didst teach the crowd
Of public leeches to resound aloud,
"Blest is the state whose servants are well fed,
"Plump, sleek, and jolly, rich and warmly clad;
[165]
"They not disgrace their lords with faces lank, 316
"With lantern jaw-bone, and with spindle shank;
"The nation's glory, forth to view they stand,
"And proudly show the fullness of the land."
A count'nance frank, a tongue with candour
fraught,
320
Untouch'd by guile, by no self interest caught,
Pour'd round thy very failings such a gleam,
That motes they seem'd amidst the noonday beam;
While friendship warm thy darkest days attends,
Thy public foes were still they private friends; 325
As social converse round the table ran,
They lost the statesman, and retain'd the man.
Thy soul, which o'er dark deeds of state arose,
And spurn'd th' assassin as the worst of foes,
[166]
Half made the ruthless tyrant's hatred cease, 330
And half had lull'd the fever'd world to peace.
Neglected Peace, who now uprear'd the head,
Hung with mute anguish o'er thy dying bed;
As closed thine eyes, beheld the closing gloom,
And stopt on earth to tend thee to thy tomb; 335
The with'ring olive placed upon they grave,
And left the realm she now despair'd to save!
G——
C———.
As late by Jones' unfinished pile I pass'd,
A sullen cloud the noon day skies o'ercast;
[167]
Large drops began with patt'ring noise to fall, 340
And jetting rills annoy'd me from the wall:
I sought for shelter underneath that dome,
Where many a half-drown'd wight has found a home,
And, snugly pamper'd at the public board,
Has strutted forth at length a spruce new lord. 345
Men, maids, and matrons, to the archway ran,
Clerks, courtiers, cobblers, all the dusty clan;
Much ill was found within, but more without,
A mob seem'd better than a water-spout.
Two swains, the one beseem'd a scriv'ner hight,
The other from abroad a wandering knight, 351
Together stood. At length the stranger broke
The formal silence, and inquiring spoke.
[168]
"Seven years have pass'd since James's park I've
seen,
"And Wapping but receiv'd me yester-e'en; 355
"O'er many a wave, to many a distant realm,
I've stretch'd the canvas, and I've watch'd the
helm;
"Great changes, well I ween, have chanced the
while,
"Amidst the might pilots of our isle;
"This morn they brought me a newspaper in, 360
"With many a paragraph to raise a grin;
"The members too, as usual, pitch'd their strength;
"Some spoke in proverbs, some harangued at length;
[169]
"There Chanc'lors, Secretaries, told at large
"Their own great merits, and their mighty charge;
"But whence their merits sprung, or what their
name,
366
"I knew no more than Tchi-tung's men of fame.
"When last I left this land, our ruling great
"Were known to every child in every state;
"And round the skirt of Canton's crazy wall 370
"Were famed as much as in St. Stephen's hall.—
[170]
"Say, if thou canst, what new-sprung men are
these,
"That hold earth's scales, and rule the lords of seas?"
"Unhappy thou!" replied the man of pen,
"Who hast as yet to learn these mighty men: 375
"Since Britain first rose from the ebbing wave,
"No mightier hands were stretch'd her realm to
save;
"No mightier hands her rivals to o'erthrow,
"And fix the fetters on the gnashing foe.
"Of great Canino sure thine ears have heard, 380
"Fit for a statesman ere he wore a beard;
"Safe 'neath his wing, their all scared Britons hold,
"Nor care though lions prowl around the fold.
"Blest Britain! now thy hour of triumph's
nigh,
"O'er sea and land thy conquering flag shall fly! 385
"But who th' illustrious sire, and princely dame,
"That brought to light the child decreed to Fame?"
"His ancient pedigree, by records good,
"Reach'd past King Arthur, nay, beyond the flood;
[171]
"In Rome or Athens had he found his birth, 390
"His line had soar'd beyond the sons of earth;
"Some god of prowess vast, and amorous fame,
"Some goddess bright, had proved his sire and dame.
"With mother-wit to profit e'en by play,
"Thorough devious paths he well could find his way;
"With wits could toy, and by their aid attain 396
"Ends they ne'er dreamt of, friends whose smiles
were gain.
"Thus following close, where brilliant fortune led,
"The great Canino lifts on high the head!
"But say what treasures bear aloft his state,
400
"What goodly rent-rolls in his train await?
"What independence buoys him o'er the tribe
"That sell their honour for a lentile bribe?
[172]
"With eye clear-sighted, and with temper'd
fire,
"While prudence fed the glow of young desire, 405
"He sought a bride from Scotland's distant hills,
"Where pure spring-water leaps in virgin rills,
"Where shepherdesses boast their lily fold,
"And sometimes, not less pleas'd, their saffron gold.
"Hence came the fair that bless'd Canino's arms,
"With cash and beauty, paradisal charms! 411
"Pure, spotless, was the wealth from that pure clime
"Where children shine not by a parent's crime;
"Unlike the treasures bought with barter's fame,
"Torn from the wretch amidst the midnight game—
"Who, then awaking, starts with curdling blood;
"To think his infants soon shall gasp for food, 417
"A dungeon drear his years forlorn attend—
"Then flies from fancy to a direful end!
"While the cool murd'rer now, around his bed, 420
"Sees ruin'd phantoms at dark midnight tread;
"And, bolts and bars unfit his soul to screen,
"He madly hastes to join the grisly scene;
[173]
"That wealth, for which he sold his peace, resign'd,
"Left to his heirs, and scatter'd on the wind. 425
[174]
"Far different gains Canino's state uphold,
"No spot is seen to dim the virtuous gold.
"Thus crown'd with wealth, what powers our
hopes
await,
What mighty talents to support the state?
"Ask you his powers whose fame has fill'd the
world,
430
"And in the cabinet its flags unfurl'd?
[175]
'Who never fails his cheering friends to charm,
'So loud, so long, so very firm, so warm?
"But far o'er all his talents soars his wit,
"Wit never given to Fox, nor caught by Pitt! 435
"By this our realm o'er foreign foes shall rise,
"And tread on him who heaven and earth defies.
"Napoleon fierce can face an Austrian gun,
"Nor from a hairy Cossack flinching run;
"Can trot at leisure midst the whizzing balls, 440
"And almost rub against the hostile walls;——
"But this great hero, pierced by pointed words,
"Grows soft as lath, and pale as Suffolk curds;
[176]
"A pun confounds him, and a smart conceit,
"Or epigram severe, yet wond'rous neat, 445
"Will lay the braggart prostrate at our feet!
"Such are the powers by which Canino's hand
"Shall chace the proud usurper from his land.
"If F——re can tag a rhyme, and G—f—d still
"Can turn a period with a placeman's quill, 450
"Canino's stores shall then come forth with grace,
"At every point a magazine he'll place,
"Where'er Napoleon turns his ruffian face.
"Lo! 'gainst his front the laden Cossack brings
"The English subsidy, fierce verbal stings; 455
[177]
"While west, south, north, well marshall'd in his
rear,
"With accents dire the tirailleurs appear!
"With keen barb'd darts stuck round, shall fume
the beast,
"Like baited bull at far-famed Spanish feast;
"Till, quite o'ercome, he'll lay him down and die—
"Then be it mine to spread abroad the joy; 461
"For, Sir,——Canino's S——t——y I!"
"O happy times!" replied the trav'ling
wight,
"We'll take our pleasure, while our Wits shall fight:
"The nation trusting to such glorious hits, 465
"Will soon be brought to live upon its wits!"
G——— R——.
What churl shall blame the thrifty statesman's
pains,
Who mingles public good with private gains;
Who for the general profit does his best,
Nor idly leaves unfeather'd his own nest; 470
And never sallying from the law's strong fort,
Looks down contemptuous on a Tenth Report.
[178]
I'll praise the man, (let hot-brain'd patriots
blame,)
Who ne'er pursued the gossamer of fame;
Ambition-led firm footing to forsake, 475
And break his rivals down, or break his neck:
[179]
Who, void of patronage, and void of pence,
But gifted with Heaven's manna, common sense,
The lowest station with contentment held,
Took what he could, nor once in thought rebell'd;
With patience waited till the angel came, 481
Then forward stept, and felt a mended frame;
Who still grew rich where others had grown poor,
Who saw much change yet felt himself secure;
Who adding daily farthings to his store, 485
By little thrived, yet saw it still grow more;
Who, step by step, unmark'd by friends or foes,
Still held the course, and towards the summit rose;
Till snugly seated near the highest aim,
Men look'd at length, and wonder'd whence he
came.
490
Blest is the premier who such friends can find,
For all occasions fitted to his mind:
[180]
He ne'er shall dread, lest, thirsting for renown,
They trip his heels, and thrust him headlong down;
Or, in the fever of an idle brain, 495
His schemes perplex, with projects wild and vain,
[181]
Or, with quaint scruples, starting from their course,
Of honour talk like officer of horse;
Or, bashful, like young Miss of downcast eye,
Blush to assert, and then, next hour, deny; 500
Or nice and dainty, their associates chuse,
To part with this, or act with that refuse;
[182]
Or, discontented with the state they hold,
Call for new honours, and make nought of gold;
Too vain their proper station e'er to see, 505
And, form'd for drudges, would task-masters be.
Train'd to the desk, and dext'rous at the pen,
This is the age that honours useful men:
Some courtly lord, or orator of fame,
The loftier stations, as his right, may claim; 510
At home, abroad, employ the public tongue,
And seem the arbiter of right and wring:
The useful man who knows the old jog-trot,
And what was done before, and what was not;
Skill'd in the power of every wheel and pin, 515
To keep in motion the complex machine;
And, though the charioteer wind to and fro,
Through smooth and rugged still can make it go;
At dangerous plunges haste the drag to drop,
Nor fright the public by an actual stop; 520
Leave the high-horsemen to their wayward flights,
And wisely labour to keep all to rights:—
Such is the man, who still his course can find,
With every current, and with every wind;
[183]
And quite as useful whosoe'er presides, 525
Along the stream of party gently glides.
Such are the statesmen honour'd in our times,
Such are the patriots of our prudent climes;
Unlike those airy dreamers fancy-taught,
Those rapt enthusiasts by warm visions caught, 530
All sordid views, all selfish ends, above,
Who loved their country with a lover's love;
Who thought the blood, which for their nation flow'd,
A little part of what their duty owed;
Who lavish'd fortune, and grew fond of toil, 535
To gain new blessings for their native soil;
And, blest to see the wealth of others grown,
Gave thanks to heaven, and quite forgot their own.
W——
W——.
Nor teems our age alone with men of use,
Bright men of genius too the times produce; 540
Whose fancy ne'er in sober counsel sits,
Whose judgements scarce o'ertake their eagle wits;
Who bound from north to south, from east to west,
Alone consistent in their hate to rest.
[184]
From these selected, we may chance to find 545
Some soaring genius of a vaster mind;
Who greatly brilliant o'er the rest appears,
Like comets sweeping through the lesser spheres.
Ask you his party? Some have judg'd it known,
But beat the bush, and proved the bird was flown;
Have found the Whig a Tory in his heart, 551
And the keen patriot act the placeman's part;
Now shout of rights, impeachments, and reforms,
Now shuddering warn the state of coming storms;
Now call the people to assert their own, 555
Now bid them crouch, and skulk behind the throne;
Now talk of freedom as an angel bright,
Now as a fiend that lurks for prey by night;
Or driven by fear, or led by deeper wit,
The friend of Fox become the friend of Pitt; 560
Or, wheeling round, when not allow'd to reign,
Desert from Pitt, and turn to Fox again.
[185]
The man of genius in the council see,
His colleagues tell they could not once agree;
Still full prepared, and never at a loss, 565
To raise objections, and all schemes to cross;
Maintain his counter-plans were wise and good,
And only fail to make them understood.
The eye of genius things so strangely strike,
They seem at diff'rent periods quite unlike; 570
[186]
Now clearly seen by opposition's beam,
Strange, monstrous, huge, the fees of office seem;
Now somewhat by the clouds of place obscured,
These ills prodigious are with ease endured—
Things to which none but mean-soul'd thrift attends,
Cheese-parings mere, and useless candle-ends. 576
E'en rank abuses, which could once inspire
The man of genius with consuming fire,
Who almost burnt Whitehall with words of flame,
While recreant placemen trembled at his name— 580
Now shoot luxuriant underneath his nose,
While, like his brethren, he enjoys his doze;
And L——n stuffs his thousands in his purse,
And finds a blessing where he fear'd a curse.
[187]
From projects numerous as the motes of sun, 585
To strike th' astonish'd world he seiz'd on one;
Here fix'd his rest, and hence defiance hurl'd
At all projectors who misled a world.
Then Britain dreamt of honours near at hand,
Of feats at sea surpass'd by deeds on land; 590
Of willing myriads to her camp that throng,
And all by pure affection drawn along;——
Men little moved by bounty, less by pay,
And quite content with penny more a day;——
Of mighty armies form'd from bands like these, 595
Who soon would Europe of her chains release;
And, patriot ardour join'd to sudden art,
The magic spells dissolve of Bonaparte:——
Thus Britain dream'd; but when she oped her eyes
To look around her for realities, 600
A midwife speech came posting to the House,
And from the lab'ring hills produced a mouse.
[188]
Say who shall catch bright genius as it flies,
Or reconcile its contrarieties?
To soft humanity in gentle ways, 605
A gallant tribute now Ventoso pays;
Tells of those courteous knights, who, all for fame,
Relieved the oppress'd, and freed the captive dame;
In whose pure breast no wayward passion rose,
Who scorn'd to triumph but o'er equal foes; 610
[189]
And stout as generous, merciful as brave,
Were proud to conquer, and more proud to save:—
Now hear him, in an English bull-dog mood,
Call, with a patriot voice, for scenes of blood;
Hold that a gory bull by dogs all torn, 615
And dogs embowell'd on its mangling horn,
Where mingled groans and yells the crowd invite,
And bones bereft of flesh amuse the sight,
Will make bold Britons thirst for Gallic gore,
And add new trophies to their bays of yore; 620
Brave and relentless, piecemeal tear the foe,
And, still insatiate, for new triumphs glow.
[190]
And such was he who deem'd it nought to move
The willing ardour of a people's love;
Who judged the men that, freely and unpaid, 625
Perform'd the task which others held a trade,
That, prompt to save, and zealous to defend,
Their life, their labour, to the state would lend—
A butt for humour, and a mark for game,
And well repaid with jeers, and galling shame: 630
While some fierce pamphleteer, who, rich in spleen,
With loud, loose scandals, vapour'd round the
scene,
Who all men's honour, all men's skill debased,
Defamed all others, but Ventoso praised—
Should with the worthies have his name enroll'd,
And to his fame a statue rear'd of gold! 636
[191]
Still to be singular, his constant view,
And, what no other would, to say and do;
Still wrapt in mazy clouds of paradox,
And still most pleas'd when most our sense he mocks,
No tame consistency to curb his plan, 641
Let others reconcile it if they can;
Now would he bring no soldiers to the field,
But all the best which all the land could yield;
Pure gold quite sever'd from the drossy nation, 645
And quite new men by martial education;—
Now Sunday mobs, with Constable at head,
To church-yard camps by general Sexton led,
With pike accounter'd, or old rusty gun,
With swearing corporal, drummer, fife, and fun,
With beer-pot ready, and attendant wench, 651
Are quite the thing to overthrow the French!
One day he'll talk of learning and what not,
Another praise the wiser Hottentot;
Maintain his breast with purer feelings glows, 655
And guts and garbage are the best of clothes.
[192]
Now hear him tell how little's due to birth,
How education makes the man of worth:
Now hear him hold that men, just as they're born,
Are good and bad, as spring the tares, or corn; 600
Nor teacher more can change them by his care,
Than give or take high cheek-bones, and red hair.
But hear the genius orator declaim,
And strive to gain the palm of wordy fame:
[193]
There Fancy throws poor Reason in the shade, 665
There Exclamation lends her brilliant aid;
There figures strange, by some enchantment caught,
Are neck and heels, into the service brought;
There three leg'd metaphors o'er hedge and stile
Bound with high limp, and fall into the toil; 670
There words new-coin'd, and phrases from rag-fair,
With thoughts refined, and turns poetic, pair;
There Metaphysic spreads her robe of snow,
And, at her elbow, starts to hear "dust-ho!"
Strange is the motley groupe produced to view, 675
Where somethings' always odd, and something new;
Amused, fatigued, and never well content,
The hearer loses but the argument;
Profuse the garnish covers every spot,
And but the foolish dishes are forgot. 680
To guide the state, O! set this genius vast,
Laputa's glories soon shall be surpass'd;
[194]
The same dessert shall oft conclude the feast,
And one plum-pudding serve a week at least;
Bright beams from cucumbers chace winter keen,
And ladies fair through cobweb-robes be seen. 686
R——
B—— S——.
At times Dame Nature, in a bounteous mood,
A soil prepares for any produce good;
There yellow harvests may luxuriant shoot,
There on vine may swell the clustering fruit;
There, if neglected, every weed design'd 691
The sloth to chasten of the lingering hind,
The nettle, briar, thistle, dock may grow,
And far and wide the yellow ragwort blow.
[195]
In any calling might Tigellius shine, 695
The moving orator, the bard divine;
Rule as the statesman, as the wit enchant,
Such powers did Nature to her favourite grant.
Tigellius felt the boon; and, all by turns,
The wit, the bard, the orator, he burns; 700
Scarce for a day his loved pursuit the same,
And still deserting ere he wins the game.
To rival Shakespeare see his genius rise,
His taste excels, his wit with Shakespeare vies:
Yet see the pigmy monument he rears!— 705
Two plays are all the work of thirty years;
Save one burlesque to mock the Bavian throng,
One maudlin farce, mere vehicle for song.
[196]
At length, deserting genius, see him job
A German tragedy to please the mob; 710
Prop with smart crutch Anne Plumptre's hobbling
stile,
And of its blossoms the Gazette despoil;
[197]
With royal ravings make the scene absurd,
And turn Ataliba to George the Third;
[198]
Pizarro set to Bonaparte's d——d work, 715
While Rolla represents his Grace of York!
O loyal bard! O labours not in vain!
As tells the treasurer's box of Drury Lane;
Whate'er Whig bumpers cool thy loyal heat,
A patriot thou to Drury and the Fleet! 720
Once more bursts forth bright genius ere it close,
And, join'd with Johnstone, can a shew compose;
[199]
The walks of Shakespeare and of Farquhar leaves,
And in a cavern hides with Forty Thieves.
Now see the orator triumphant blaze, 725
While crowds the accents catch with eager gaze;
Hear him the great oppressor strike with dread,
And call for vengeance on his guilty head;
[200]
The wrongs of injured innocence deplore,
The crimes of Britons on a distant shore; 730
Or starting forward with a patriot's fire,
Bid fierce sedition panic-struck expire;
Or twine a well-earn'd wreathe to crown the brave,
The men unpaid who would their country save;
[201]
Or see him with the lash of ridicule, 735
Whip through the town the oafs that strut and rule—
Whate'er emotion he would raise appears,
A burst of laughter, or a flood of tears;
The dazzling flash of patriotic fire,
Or all the transports of indignant ire. 740
[202]
But, gifted thus, why never at the height,
Where words are power, and eloquence is might?
Why do mere talkers to the summit rise,
While, at the mountain's base, supine he lies?
[203]
Alas! like marsh-born fires that gleam by night,
He gives no useful heat, no useful light: 746
While jolly fellows push the claret round,
And catch and glee, with thrice-three-toasts resound;
While ladies chat, or dice the vigils keep,
And one night's watching calls for one day's sleep;
No party trust to find him at his post, 751
Or count to have him when they need him most;
Dry business o'er, 'tis then they rest on him
The soul of ease, good fellowship, and whim.
A famed light-horseman, when the foes appear,
To drive the out-posts, or alarm the rear; 756
Or, when in mood, with reeking faulchion keen,
Amidst the first in thickest battle seen;
All soothe his wrath, and for his love contend,
They dread the foe who little prize the friend. 760
The worst of drudges, yet unfit to lead,
Nor to the House more punctual than his bed;
[204]
Forth like the aloe, in a sudden blow,
Bright as unlook'd for, still a public show,
His flowers of oratory burst amain, 765
But close——again to blossom God knows when!
Careless of place, unapt to win or hold,
And more solicitious of ease than gold;
When his starved friends, who twice ten years had
found
No hope, the Treasury's walls beleag'ring round,
At length the stubborn citadel surprise, 771
And enter, sword in hand, and fire in eyes;
One grasps a shining post, and makes sure
Of something snug, a patent sinecure;——
Tigellius gets what others fail to claim, 775
Or what they leave him, even through very shame.
Shut from the cabinet which others reach,
Without his years, his powers of thought or speech;
[205]
Some post unenvied e'en must serve his turn,
Some place obscure, which C——g now would
spurn.
780
How oft to age the galling crosses sent,
Chastise the errors of a youth mispent;
[206]
And harshly end, the folly to repair,
Untimely ease, with more untimely care!
With little prudence, and but little toil'd 785
O'er plenteous gains Tigellius might have smiled,
While life as yet was young, and fortune seem'd
To grant success which others only dream'd:
But to his grasp no sooner came the hoard,
Than all was flown to seek another lord; 790
Still more required to spend than he could get,
And no store left him but a store of debt.
Hence Drury tells of thousands snatch'd away,
And hapless mimics reft of weekly pay;
Of Aaron's rod, a serpent in their eyes, 795
And of more cause to feed them than chastise;
How Equity's great chief maintain'd their cause,
And from the woolsack gave the drama laws.
[207]
While some to compass gold all comfort cross,
Tigellius knows to live without the dross; 800
Blest science sure to all whose fund's in doubt,
Thrice blest to those whose credit's fairly out!
Yet things there are which fill the stout with dread,
And raise a megrim in the soundest head;
Even gallant soldiers scarce can use their feet, 805
While duns and tipstaffs eye them in the street:
But Britain's statues, kind to men of spirit,
Some refuge yet provide for drooping merit;
A shrine there is, from duns a safe retreat,
Nor shut from wit or gold, yelep'd a seat; 810
This shrine who touches may his cares forego,
And, owing thousands, nothing seem to owe;
Then tradesmen vile, who dare to claim their own,
Shall, sad, for breach of privilege atone.
[208]
The friend of genius, patron of young worth, 815
Tigellius might have call'd new Shakespeares forth;
With wreathes himself had foster'd, crown'd the
stage,
A famed Mecaenas in an iron age.
[209]
Alas! though his to judge, though his to give,
To public fame, the scenes that ought to live, 820
To him what genius owns his honours due?
Whom has his fost'ring bounty brought to view?
The title read, away the paper tost,
Again unlook'd for, and at length quite lost,
The fruits of toil, the hopes of youth are thrown,
While the poor author vents the fruitless moan. 826
[210]
'Twas thus, unhappy Tobin, sunk thy heart,
With genius gifted, and the poet's art;
Thy golden scenes neglected like thyself,
Were left to moulder on the umpire's shelf; 830
No praise bestow'd of all so justly due,
No path vouchsafed to lead thee forth to view;
Till Nature, faint, with wounded Genius fell,
And waked a patron by the funeral knell;
Then came rewards, to thee no longer came, 835
And fruitless honours shower'd around thy name.
[211]
Tigellius is not cruel, harsh, unkind,
To blast young genius never once design'd;
In mere good wishes will he yield to none,
And only fails—when something's to be done. 840
Nay, sometimes roused, he has been known to aid,
With active zeal, a brilliant masquerade;
To puff a Christmas shew into renown,
Or play a Roscius off upon the town:
But great occasions only call him forth, 845
Not common things, like young unfriended worth.
But night draws on, and darkness hastes to hide
Unfruitful talents, genius misapplied;
[212]
Fame without reverence; age without respect,
Doom'd to regret, and sinking to neglect. 850
Doom'd, after years mispent, to make a show,
And catch the multitude however low,
To feel the want of power e'en mobs to move,
And, at the Hustings, purgatory prove;
Enraged, indignant, fill'd with grief and spleen,
He closes, wretched close! the heartless scene 856
L——
M———.
While we, my Muse, together ply our art,
Thou must be honest, or we haste to part;
From truth, though bold and rude, thou ne'er must
swerve,
Nor sing their praises, who no praise deserve. 860
[213]
Not for a pension, not a post to win,
Where most secure my pilfering hands might sin,
Would I to placemen prostitute my pen,
Who, rogues in heart, would seem like honest men;
Perhaps to some old knave, who power to gain, 865
Thought vice no shame, and infamy no stain;
Who, to his patron, courteous left his bed,
And, by great interest, thought a wife well paid:
With conscience suited to the varying time,
Who held no art, that served his ends, a crime: 870
Who stoop'd to flatter those whom lest he prized,
And fawning courted whom he most despised:
Who on his belly crept, till once in power,
And then could frown, could threaten, and devour;
Who promised much, but little meant to keep, 875
And opiates knew to lull all fools asleep:
Who smoothed all parties, every friend caress'd,
And, those who served his purpose, love the best:
[214]
Who look'd on freedom as a tool for knaves,
And for the people cared as useful slaves: 880
Who well, by treasury light, in darkness groped,
And gave, with bounty large, where much he hoped;
While fools were after public interest flown,
One leading interest still pursued—his own:
Who, cool and fearless, plunged through thick and
thin,
885
Nor ever startled, while he could keep in;
And bravely spurn'd the spirit of the laws,
Yet still could plead the letter, or the flaws:——
[215]
Who valuing virtue just as what 'twould bring,
Thought private honour a superfluous thing; 890
Defied all sacred ties, through very lust,
The parent's shame, and friendship's sacred trust;
[216]
Made the lost matron every sting to feel,
And scoff'd at heaven, and unavenging steel;
With nameless offspring fill'd the red parades, 895
And match'd king Solomon in waiting-maids:
His veins replenish'd with the grape's rich juice,
Till twice two bottles came a thing of use:
Who, fond of shew and cost, his treasures pour'd,
And had at least the virtue not to hoard; 900
Till age came griping, and his blood grew cold,
And Avarice whisper'd of the charms of gold;
Then, on the nation's vitals grasping fast,
He proved a sordid miser at the last.
[217]
Far other deeds, my muse, shall swell thy lays,
To M—l—e's worth, a well-earn'd epic raise; 906
Who , famed for merit, honour'd for his years,
Yet young and fresh in Britain's love appears.
Still true to conscience, still religion's friend,
These blest allies uphold him to the end; 910
To crown his age, more brilliant laurels bring,
The great defender of the church and king!
[218]
Hail spotless honour! patriot without fault!
Belied, how basely, by a son of malt!
Thou, with th' experienced statesman's fearless front,
Didst scorn for pence and farthings to account; 916
Didst, by thy well-known faith and truth, abide,
And spurn'd the clamorous herd with proper pride.
Thy noble peers, men honour'd by their king,
Men never led by minister in string, 920
Men never awed by fear, by favour moved,
Declared thee guiltless of a tale unproved.
With fame all pure, white-washed by titled hands,
Arise again, and shine in high commands:
See Patronage to thee her arms extends, 925
And on thy footsteps hang a thousand friends.
[219]
Behold thy native Scotia hastes to meet,
And strew her trophies at thy honour'd feet;
That generous land, where self is quite forgot,
And none, for interest, every framed a plot; 930
Whose sons, to serve thee, felt the purest glow,
Nor recollected what thou couldst bestow;
Nor, for their voices, touch'd official whets,
Nor thought of India, writers, and cadets:
[220]
That pious land, where saints affect their kind, 935
And find thy saintly virtues to their mind!
Her willing votes shall now adorn they train,
The lowly pages of thy latter reign;
The sixteen peers, changed S——k at their head,
By thee in triumph to St. Stephen's led; 940
[221]
And, forty commoners, thy nod awaiting,
Thou leav'st the five to L—d—d—e and S—t—n.
No impious acts thy loyal sway should stain,
The fiend-like negro should resume his chain:
[222]
No mad reformer then for dreams should fight, 945
But learn to own whatever is right;
Nor fierce Inquiry, with its senseless pother,
One corner search, and slily pass another:
[223]
All other commerce Britain's fleets should blast,
And rear the broom conspicuous at the mast; 950
On solitary seas, her flags unfurl'd,
Should awe, chastise, and prey upon the world.
[224]
New coalitions then should send afar,
Their well-paid shouts, and give the hopes of war;
The conquer'd states feel restive in the chain, 955
And Bonaparte require a new campaign.
[225]
But, far o'er all things prized, sublime and pure,
The royal conscience then should reign secure:
The hopeless papist through a length of years,
Should still atone his Church's crimes with tears;
Should taxes pay, by insult reimbursed, 961
Should fight unhonour'd, and should fall accurs'd:
While, fenced around, like Britain's sea-girt shore,
That church divine which all the good adore, 964
That church where, only men for heaven are bred,
Should bless its son, and raise its tow'ring head.
Go on, great chief! thy destinies pursue,
Still, to the last, thy life's great ends in view;
Thy public virtues with thy private pair,
Our rights and morals still thine equal care. 970
Around thy name th' unfading wreathe shall blow,
And deathless fame the wond'ring muse bestow;
[226]
Thy hope fulfill'd, to live in history's page,
And give a lesson to a future age;
Thy deeds more coolly weigh'd, more clearly known,
By patriot sires shall to their sons be shown; 976
Then shalt thou gain, when no false hues pervert,
The reputation due to thy desert.
L——
E———.
When Rome, for virtue once renown'd, became
Renown'd for crimes, for deeds of lasting shame;
When Freedom spread her golden lures in vain, 981
And left a recreant race to hug the chain;
When vice, at noon-day-rear'd the head on high,
And mock'd the tardy vengeance of the sky;
Pure and unstain'd, amidst a guilty land, 985
The law's great chiefs were seen sublime to stand;
[227]
O'er prostrate virtue spread their awful shield,
And 'gainst corruption still maintain'd the field.
Thus while the victor every land subdued,
Proud, o'er his power, indignant Cato stood; 990
Saw Caesar's arms an abject world controul,
And fix'd the throne of freedom in his soul.
Thus, while around the base of Andes, rage
The torrents vast, and warring winds engage;
While fell tornadoes hold their tyrant reign, 995
And sudden ruin desolates the plain;
Still, all unmoved, the tranquil summits show
Their spotless garments of eternal snow;
Like nature's vast foundations fix'd they seem,
Nor feel the wint'ry wind, or summer's beam. 1000
[228]
And thus, while here Corruption casts a gloom,
The fate of Britain like the fate of Rome;
While titled Vice triumphant rears the head,
And Avarice thrives, and lust defiles the bed;
Our law's great guardians still their fame maintain,
Without suspicion as without a stain. 1006
No paltry bribes, Dishonour's sordid spoil,
Pervert their judgments, and their hands defile;
For rights invaded, when redress is sought,
The injured finds not that the judge is bought; 1010
For crimes no base impunities are sold,
No villain feels protected by his gold:
And while our annals every vice describe,
This age shall own no judge who took a bribe.
[229]
Blest is the land, whose judges thus preside, 1015
Pure as Golconda's gems, or gold thrice-tried;
Whom solid learning from false views protects,
Whom justice guides, and wisdom still directs;
For worth selected and for knowledge famed,
Nor moved by passion, nor by party claim'd; 1020
Who scorn all arts which Virtue holds unmeet,
Nor rise by faction to the judgment seat;
To every party equal favour own,
And view alike the subject and the throne;
Nor rank or power permit to blind their sight, 1025
Nor heed a star unless the star of right;
No bias to the court or people feel,
But, just to all, an equal measure deal.
Thrice honour'd is the judge, whose mind serene
Looks calm and solemn on the passing scene; 1030
Who, all for justice, spurns at meaner things,
The shouts of mobs, or flatt'ring smiles of kings;
Who, cool and firm, the law's behest conveys.
[illegible line]
[230]
Untouch'd by hope, and never moved by fear, 1035
Eschew'd by faction, to the nation dear,
The bad respect him, and the good revere.
While Britain'í upright judges swell the
lays,
Let Britain'í king participate the praise;
Who, from his crown, a brilliant greatly tore, 1040
And gave his people what his fathers wore;
Bade the undaunted judge his tenor hold,
And justice pass her sentence uncontroul'd.
[231]
Hence, by his people's love, of mightier sway,
He gains in power by what he gave away: 1045
So, the glad hind, when past his furrowing toil,
Bestows his golden treasures on the soil;
So the rich harvest, which around him pours,
Repays, an hundred fold, his lavish'd stores.
While thus to independence proudly raised, 1050
O may no wayward end, no wish debased,
E'er tempt our laws' great guardians to forego
The noblest boon which freedom can bestow,
O may they ne'er, by false ambition led,
Cabals enkindle, or a faction wed; 1055
[232]
From thirst of power, their station's boast forsake,
And with a party's hopes and terrors shake;
To little plots, and court-intrigues descend,
And, with th' obsequious council, humbly bend;
Sell reputation for a crumb of power, 1060
And years of honour for a courtly hour;
Be sworn the special servants of the throne,
Nor more th' impartial umpire's title own;
Should king and people for some right contend,
The people's foe be held, the monarch's friend; 1065
From strong debates, in every passion's heat,
Confused and troubled mount the judgment seat;
While anxious suitors view the scene with awe,
And wish mad politics disjoin'd from law.
Most in the judge, true dignity requires 1070
Consistent views, and well-controul'd desires;
[233]
Each devious course that might suspicion breed,
And even the semblance shun'd, of erring deed.
[234]
Sedate, impartial, still-collected, cool,
Ambitious only o'er himself to rule; 1075
Join'd to no faction; midst the loyal found;
Yet nothing more to king than people bound;
Averse alike to lord it, or to drudge,
The judge's noblest office is to judge.
L——
R———.
On nose of pig, how odd the diamond right, 1080
How odd on Harlequin, the crest of king;
Strange smart bandeau on wrinkled front appears,
Strange flush sixteen conjoin'd to sixty years;
[235]
Yet not more strange, more odd than this accord,
My Lady she, and he—sweet heavens! my Lord.
Were titles used to set the stamp on worth, 1086
Not given to knaves, to fools, to gold, or birth;
Then might the peer our willing homage claim,
And stars be held certificates of fame.
Still as the chariot pass'd the streets along, 1090
Caught by its coronet, the crowds would throng;
Assured to find one mark'd for public care,
A Wolfe, A Chatham, or a Nelson there.
But when the star, a hundred times to one,
Seems on its wond'rous wearer placed through fun;
A thing, by dext'rous valet, made a beau, 1096
Within a vacuum, and without a show:—
Or rake, in body worn, in mind a drivel,
By leading silly women to the devil:—
[236]
Or jockey, both in outside, and in heart; 1100
Who, in the stable, acts his proper part:—
Or bully gamester, careless of his heirs,
Who all, 'twixt pharo and the brothel, shares:—
[237]
Or cit ambitious, who, by Madam fired,
From Lombard-street to western spheres retired: 1105
Gave sumptuous dinners, and the best of wine,
And lords and ladies got in crowds to dine;
Threw ancient great ones quite into the shade,
And fill'd the papers with a masquerade;
Turn'd glum vice-hunters to a public jest, 1110
And had the honour of a royal guest:
[238]
With endless banquets, mighty interest caught,
And thus, full-arm'd, the Premier's favour sought;
The languid Premier, sick and much perplex'd,
Some mirth required to ease a spirit vex'd, 1115
Resolv'd, with one loud laugh, his ills to chear,
Refresh'd his lungs, and made the cit a Peer!—
[239]
Say, shall we kneel to titles thus bestow'd,
And, like the' Egyptians, hail the calf a god?
With toads, asps, onions, ornament the shrine, 1120
And reptiles own, and pot-herbs, things divine?
Yet, though we join the laugh, or fume with
spleen;
When once two hundred years have roll'd between,
When filtering ages shall the blood refine,
And time enrich the juices, like old wine; 1125
Even such a baron's sons shall boast aloud,
What ancient honours raise them o'er the crowd;
[240]
Their clustering lineage on a tree display,
And look contempt on creatures of a day;
Shall hire skill'd heralds to adorn their line, 1130
And, for their mighty founder, virtues coin;
Perhaps the merchant to the camp translate,
Or make him shine the leader of the state;
To prove his worth, a jest-won title bring,
And dub him hence the favourite of his king; 1135
Since he and Nelson bore an equal name,
Hold he and Nelson were alike in fame!
[241]
O had my name indeed superior shone,
With titles graced by merit fairly won,
How should my soul revolt from such allies! 1140
How such compeers my swelling heart despise!
How should I rave, the period to foresee,
When rank'd with such my name and worth
should
be;
And all the persons titled in one year,
Of equal merit, equal deeds appear! 1145
No—to my grave my title should descend,
And all my honours, with the winner, end;
No scoundrel son should hold them up to scorn,
And make his country blush to see them worn:
No lying herald of a distant age, 1150
Some fellow lordling to my side engage,
Some rake, some booby, something most despised,
And hold our deeds and titles equalized!
But, mighty baron, cease thine anxious fears,
'Tis but a poet plucks thee by the ears: 1155
[242]
Thou, at court galas, still a peer shalt trip,
And still thy lady be her ladyship;
Still o'er thy house, the coronet be shown,
And still thy chariot for a lord's be known,
Poor vulgar satire by the great be scorn'd, 1160
And men like thee, by titles still adorn'd:
Then pluck up spirit, base plebeians d—n,
And show thyself the Baron R———m.
E—— of H——.
How sweet is mercy in the mighty's breast!
How human kindness decks the warrior's crest! 1165
How noble they who might in fields have shone,
And conquer'd many, yet have conquer'd none!
Then be those chiefs renown'd, unknown to roam,
Who gild the gay parade, and shine at home:
Who martial etiquette supremely know, 1170
And fit their soldiers for a gallant show.
No scenes they meditate, at which the heart
Of soft humanity would shudd'ring start;
Stout youths alive embowel'd by a bullet,
Or stuck on bayonet like spitted pullet; 1175
[243]
Fresh limbs dissever'd from the bleeding stumps,
Heads from the shoulders, bodies from the rumps;
Bones mash'd to jelly, fields with corpses spread,
And dying groans among the heaps of dead;
The conflict fierce, where death and fury glow, 1180
Or the drear banquet of the carrion crow:—
Such scenes, to scare the heart, and stun the head,
Ne'er tempt the gentle chiefs of gay parade.
Them, sights more human, guiltless deeds invite,
When wheeling through Hyde Park their squadrons
bright;
1185
The long straight front, extending far and wide,
Where no false curves the serjeant's pains deride;
The cap smart-cock'd, the well-chalk'd belt so
clean,
The arms where spot of rust was never seen;
The tight-drawn stock, the hair in tasty tie, 1190
Heads dress'd, and breasts advanced to meet the eye;
The smart clear wheel, where all, like spokes, go
round,
Nor one behind, behind the rest, is found;
[244]
The clever shoulder, and the firm advance,
And arms presented, with a clap, at once; 1195
At fire! one full round roar to charm the ear,
With no pop, pops, harsh sputtering in the rear:
[245]
The columns, like glued figures soak'd in starch,
On wire-work strangely moved at sound of march!
The furious charge, where thousand foes might fall,
And the brave rally at the great park wall: 1201
A cloudless atmosphere and summer's day,
To sport the warriors and attract the gay;
While crowding fair ones, in a brilliant row,
With tender tremors view the martial show, 1205
And cling more closely to th' intrepid beau.
In fields like these, none wounded and none slain,
How pure is war, how pleasant a campaign!
Nor think these bands to bear no hardship made,
To bear great hardships is the soldier's trade. 1210
Look at their chins, and say if 'tis no ill
To hold their necks so straight, so stiff, so still?
Look at their legs, which knee-high gaiters pinch,
Their tight-screw'd thighs, and say wouldst thou
not
flinch?
Now their smart crops the scissars close assail, 1215
Now their heads labour with a load of tail;
[246]
Now, not one hair the close-shaved visage wears,
Now vile mustachoes turn the men to bears:
Small may those hardships seem to men of blood,
Who daily wade the marsh, or stem the flood;
Who, all night long, and supperless, must lie 1221
Beneath the shroud of a December sky;
And find at morn their hair to earth congeal'd,
When loud alarums wake them for the field:
But oft the ills, which men most trivial deem, 1225
More keenly wound than such as mightier seem;
Nor is a bruise, or cancer, worse to bear,
Than pease in shoes, or pin upright in chair.
Thus the tame Sepoy, whose obedient hand
Our banners floated o'er his native land; 1230
Who, in our cause, Death's fellest forms could view,
And brave the scorching sun, and blasting dew:
When forced by some great chief, of skill revered,
In cut unknown to shape his cap and beard,
His darling fashions with cold steel defended, 1235
Till trembling wisecap his decrees amended.
[247]
Nor think our youngling chiefs, by smarter swords
And ep'lets, known for military lords,
[248]
Are inexperienced in the feats of war,
Though never cradled in Bellona's car. 1240
[249]
At midnight, oft behold a chosen band
Enact great wonders with a mighty hand;
Appear, in proper garments, fierce Macbeth,
And hear of crowns from witches on the heath;
A valiant Julius scorn his wife's mean tears, 1245
A Barbarossa blast the foe with fears;
A very Rolla shield his honour'd king,
And bear off Cora's child with wond'rous swing.
Yet though of martial lore these schools, confined,
Train but the spirits of a nobler kind; 1250
Think not the rest untutor'd for the field,
While their brave lessons oft courts-martial yield.
Here, train'd to frown, to threaten, and command,
And deal his orders with a sovereign hand,
[250]
The bantling chieftain, with ascending eye, 1255
Confounds the tall grown man of six feet high;
Commands the halberds in a direful tone,
And bids the drummer bare him to the bone;
Sees, in the welling gore, the lash embrued,
And grows courageous from the sight of blood.
O warriors worthy of a Briton's name! 1261
O born to fill the world with deeds of fame!
E——
of C———.
Did Nature second monarchs' grand designs,
And shower her gifts on some peculiar lines;
Shed wit and worth where honours first were shed,
And save great wisdom for the titled head; 1266
[251]
Then might the chiefs be found, without debate,
Who best could lead our armies, guide the state;
Then might the Knight so some small post pretend,
The lordly Baron to command ascend; 1270
The mightier Viscount to the Earl should bow,
The Earl himself the Marquis' claims allow;
The Duke almost be fittest for all things,
And Princes only less adroit than kings.
Then should we mourn no military lord, 1275
With all the soldier center'd in his sword;
No peer in council, like a horse in pond,
Who just can stand and stare, nor pass beyond;
Nor noble poet who, in tragic lays,
Laments our want of taste, his want of praise;
Who, when no actor will attempt his play, 1281
Not even on benefits, not even for pay,
[252]
On hot-press'd royal bids the drama glow,
While margins vast their glossy splendour throw;
Then to the chosen few the present sends, 1285
The most distinguish'd of his titled friends;
Who, while the head grows numb, and conscience
akes,
Must praise—and read it to prevent mistakes.
Were Nature not plebeian at the heart,
No titled head should want the thinking part; 1290
Wit, wisdom, courage, with the peerage pass,
And titles prove specifics for an ass;
The royal touch cure dullness, worst of evils,
And talents pour into the fool that drivels;
[253]
Make barren polls in every produce rich, 1295
While men catch genius, as they catch the itch.
D——
of Q———.
In days of yore, while Rome's old grandeur stood,
And boars still roam'd the Calydonian wood,
Celestial groupes in grove and grotto play'd,
And Fawns and Satyrs danced in every shade; 1300
The huntress Dryads graced the moon's pale beam,
And Naiads laved their beauties in the stream;
The hearth much honour'd, and the fruitful plain,
Each grove, each fountain, had its guardian train.
Then, by the echoing rock, beneath the tree, 1305
Where forms divine the swain was wont to see,
[254]
The poet, stretch'd the mossy banks along,
Lull'd in the visions of his rising song,
In wonder waked, from rock and streams to hear
Sounds more than human steal upon his ear; 1310
And knew the guardian genii of the place
Had form'd a choir, the muse's son to grace.
From our dull days, these chearing sprites are fled,
And scarce a fairy tends the shepherd's tread;
By stream, by grot, by fountain, or in grove, 1315
No satyrs amble, and no dryads rove;
Mute are the rocks, and uninspired the trees,
No sound the poet hears, no vision sees.
But me the Muse, with Latian fancy, leads
To sing the genii of her ancient creeds; 1320
Hence cull machinery for my epic song,
And choose a patron from the mystic throng;
[255]
Some god, by men and matrons held divine,
And thus, with offerings, consecrate his shrine:
Though now the orchard-wall the school-boy
shuns
1325
Deterr'd alone by man-traps and spring-guns;
Though from the seed-beds, ancient garments scare,
On mimic poles, the tenants of the air;
Though, on the king's highway, the matron spy
No imaged god to make her cry "O fy!" 1330
To thee, Priapus, shall my vows be paid,
And votive couplets on thine altar laid;
[256]
In this great town, most honour'd of the gods,
And duly worship'd in the great abodes.
Whether, in mortal shape reveal'd to view, 1335
(The shape, as some relate, of ancient—);
A noted jockey, at all race-grounds known,
And quite familiar with poor mortals grown,
You take alike the fair and black legs in,
The purse of one, the others' favours win, 1340
And please your godship with tit-bits of sin.
Or to dark passage silently convey'd,
You seem John Footman to the chamber-maid;
In whispers low your fond desires reveal,
And, all unknown, her sweet-heart's portion steal;
Then with a quaint sly thrift, to make amends, 1346
Purloin her savings of the candle-ends.
Or, at the brink of dawn, you lie in wait
Where lamps, in shining piles, adorn the gate;
With promised ribbons, and close squeeze, assail
The buxom virgins of the flowing pail; 1351
[257]
Who, scorning favours shower'd alike on all,
Repulse your fervent hug, with angry squall;
Pluck from the street, by Dian's aid, fell stones,
And swear to crack your skull, and break your
bones.
1355
Or, placed at dusk, to watch in devious ways,
When star nor lamp your silent step betrays;
Till, by your skilful eye, a petticoat
Amidst th' uncertain gloom is seen to float:
Then seize the fair, and haste, in accents meet, 1360
To lay your soul and body at her feet;
Careless if face or person's fine or common,
And quite content to find your prize a woman:
Think to your arms, if cheap, a goddess given,
Pleased if seventeen she prove, or sixty-seven. 1365
[258]
Or led, like Polyphemus, by one eye,
To opera glass your single light apply;
With looks intent, the luscious scene survey,
Where plump Signoras their white spheres display;
And, not forgetful of the circling beau, 1370
Their polish'd limbs the bounding damsels show,
And all the charms are seen of Parisot.
Blest fair! whose power the gripe of avarice mocks,
And on her benefit procures the box.
Or when the balmy hours of circling spring, 1375
Fair holidays, and Greenwich gambols bring;
You love, with smirk on face, and glass in hand,
At base of hill, with eyes upsent, to stand;
Whence striving maidens, rolling down amain,
Pant for the prize, and tumbling seek the plain;
Arms, ancles, bosoms, toss'd by turns on high, 1381
The kerchiefs loose, and floating robes defy.
Or with a friend of goût in vis-a-vis,
The streets you haunt, a belle of fame to see;
Now catch a glimpse, at door of crusty law, 1385
Of some one beauteous by a grand faux-pas;
[259]
Now, to the green-room door, impatient press,
To view the ballet-corps in morning dress.
Or, in balcony, oft at noontide seen,
With hat of straw, and parasol to screen; 1390
You eye the romping misses at their walk,
And slily list to hear the giglets talk;
Feel, for the opening buds, your bosom glow,
As for their grannams sixty years ago.
While thus, in mortal shape, you glad our eyes,
O great Priapus! long not for the skies: 1396
With cordial drops, his ready aid to lend,
May Esculapius still your steps attend;
Warm be the milk in which your limbs you lave,
And juicy viands may your stomach crave; 1400
Like Plutus rich, you bags of gold o'erflow,
And no one dun you even for what you owe;
[260]
May thin-clad damsels, night and morn, await,
Their soft appointments, just before your gate;
There, as their Bond-street, misses daily meet, 1405
Short be their petticoats, and wet the street!
E——
of M———.
The dawn is broke: already far on high,
The lark's plebeian notes alarm the sky:
Now creeping watchmen, scarce, by morn alive,
Still cheat; and six resound, when just past five:
Now, from gay orgies, rattling chariots bear 1411
The haggard remnants of the tonish fair;
Who bent, next morn, to dash at something new,
An early breakfast order, just at two:
Now, from the masquerades, demure and slow, 1415
With saffron visage, slinks the jaded beau:
And forth from Brookes's prowl the pharo groupe,
While quizzing draymen quaff the brown saloop:
[261]
Fair ladies, reeling, not a wish provoke,
And, London atmosphere is free from smoke. 1420
'Tis time for us, my muse, to quit our flight,
And, ere the son grows hot, to bid good night;
E'en fashionables need some hours for sleep,
And day for rest, as night for pleasure, keep.
We've trod the scenes, where wealth and power
abound,
1425
And yet no patron sought, no patron found;
No great Mecaenas has surprised our sight,
No Bufo has our flattery dragg'd to light.
Unhired, the Glories of the Age we've sung,
With hand unbribed, and with unbridled tongue;
Careless of praise, and little moved by blame, 1431
No patron's frowns our dread, or smiles our aim.
Yet had we lick'd the foot which shoe-string touches,
Like poor F—x C—p—r with the youthful duchess:
[262]
Or like Olivia, in a limping speech, 1435
Prais'd the chaste rarities of Lady H.:
Or warm'd, like M—r—ce, by Museum fire,
From Ganges drag'd a hurdy-gurdy lyre;
[263]
The muses loved; and loved no less, to dine;
And Lettsom's seat beprais'd, and Lettsom's wine:
Like G—ff-d, soak'd our wit in loyal zeal, 1441
And squeezed the lemon upon C——g's veal:
The public taste, with Nelson's praises hit,
And scrawl'd a monody on Fox or Pitt:
Like Tommy M——e had scratch'd the itching
throng,
1445
And tickled matrons with a spicy song:
Of M——a's bounty, M——a's manners told,
Profuse in compliments, but scarce of gold:——
[264]
Then might her Grace, upon our leaves, display
Her milk-white hand, and much admire the lay;
And, though she deem'd the lie no mighty matter,
Might blushing lisp—"Indeed, indeed, you flatter:"
Then might her ladyship, in maiden tone,
Refuse the tribute of a thing unknown:
And L—t—m, bounteous to a young beginner, 1455
Invite to simple joint, and Sunday dinner:
Then friends in power might on our merits think,
And some snug post provide for meat and drink:
At least our subject claim the town's regard,
And public dinners be our great reward: 1460
Or, sought by all, engaged to fifty fêtes,
Our songs and presence held the first of treats;
Our liquorish lays had dropt in titled ears,
And our good fortunes gall'd our blank compeers:
[265]
While sure his smiles to gain, on all who smiles,
A lord's acquaintance had repaid our toils. 1466
What! no Mecaenas! when the things abound?
A patron e'en for Dermody was found;
That scape-grace, born to show our wondering
times,
With how much vice a man may tag smooth
rhymes:
1470
[266]
Peers, o'er this hopeful genius, strove to watch,
And titled dames supplied his gross debauch.
Sure still some charm attends a patron's name,
When T—l—r's lumber N—f—k's aid may claim;
[267]
T—l—r, whose five huge tomes our nerves affright,
While godlike Plato rants Tom Bedlam quite; 1476
And words so strange the grave burlesque express,
It seems a Bishop robed in Motley's dress.
Discerning patrons! what does genius owe
To streams which spread so wide, so bounteous flow!
Which drench the barren sand, and rock so hard,
Nor ever hope, or, hoping, meet reward! 1482
How, from such aid, my soul indignant turns,
And proudly seeks obscurity and Burns;
The boast of Scotland, left by patron peer 1485
To earn his scanty bread by gauging beer!
With downcast visage, and with falt'ring speech,
No lord shall hear my recreant tongue beseech;
Show, in his booby face, the mantling smile,
While all my ills I tell, and all my toil; 1490
[268]
With heart unmoved, observe my wants complain,
And say 'he'll think on't'—but ne'er think again—
Till raised, like Johnson, quite beyond his aid,
I throw the paltry pageant in the shade;
Who then, with card and condescending smile, 1495
Would love to share the honours of my toil.
[269]
But me, nor patron's aid, nor vulgar praise,
Invites to woo the muse, and weave the lays:
My name unknown, and doom'd my verse to see
Assign'd to all that rhyme, but ne'er to me; 1500
The teeming worthies of a favour'd age
Alone my fancy wake, my song engage.
Pleased, them to raise on high to public view,
Like tall Pagoda in the park of Kew,
Like traitor's head on Temple Bar of yore, 1505
Or like lord Cr—n—y drawn by brethren four,—
Where line ne'er sounded will I sink my name,
Nor envy them—bear witness, Heaven! their fame!
THE
END.