Abbildungen der Seite


For ‘Buxom Joan' he sung the doubtful strife, Now in thy trunk thy D'Oıly habit fold, How the sly sailor made the maid a wife.

The silken drugget ill can fence the cold; To, loudee strains he raised his voice, to tell The frieze's spongy nap is soaked with rain, What woful wars in Chevy Chase' befell,

And showers soon drench the camblet's cockled grain; When . Percy drove the deer with hound and horn ;. True Witney! broadcloth, with its shag unshorn, Wars to be wept by children yet unborn!'

Unpierced is in the lasting tempest worn : Ah, Witherington! more years thy life had crowned, Be this the horseman's fence, for who would wear If thou hadst never heard the horn or hound ! Amid the town the spoils of Russia's bear? Yet shall the squire, who fought on bloody stumps, Within the roquelaure's clasp thy hands are pent, By future bards be wailed in doleful dumps.

Hands, that, stretched forth, invading harms prevent. All in the land of Essex' next he chaunts, Let the looped bavaroy the fop embrace, How to sleek mares starch Quakers turn gallants: Or his deep cloak bespattered o'er with lace. How the grave brother stood on bank so green- That garment best the winter's rage defends, Happy for him if mares had never been !

Whose ample form without one plait depends ;
Then he was seized with a religious qualm, By various names in various counties known,
And on a sudden sung the hundredth psalm.

Yet held in all the true surtout alone;
He sung of 'Taffy Welsh' and 'Sawney Scot,' Be thine of kersey firm, though small the cost,
Lilly-bullero' and the Irish Trot.'

Then brave unwet the rain, unchilled the frost. Why should I tell of Bateman'or of Shore,'

If the strong cane support thy walking hand, Or Wantley's Dragon' slain by valiant Moore, Chairmen no longer shall the wall command; *The Bower of Rosamond,' or 'Robin Hood,'

Even sturdy carmen shall thy nod obey,
And how the grass now grows where Troy town stood!' And rattling coaches stop to make thee way:

His carols ceased : the listening maids and swains This shall direct thy cautious tread aright,
Seem still to hear some soft imperfect strains. Though not one glaring lamp enliven night.
Sudden he rose, and, as he reels along,

Let beaux their canes, with amber tipt, produce ; Swears kisses sweet should well reward his song. Be theirs for empty show, but thine for use. The damsels laughing fly; the giddy clown

In gilded chariots while they loll at ease,
Again upon a wheat-sheaf drops adown;

And lazily insure a life's disease;
The power that guards the drunk his sleep attends, While softer chairs the tawdry load convey
Till, ruddy, like his face, the sun descends.

To court, to White's,3 assemblies, or the play;

Rosy-complexioned Health thy steps attends, [Walking the Streets of London.]

And exercise thy lasting youth defends.

Imprudent men Heaven's choicest gifts profane : [From Trivia. ]

Thus some beneath their arm support the cane ; Through winter streets to steer your course aright, The dirty point oft checks the careless pace, How to walk clean by day, and safe by night; And miry spots the clean cravat disgrace. How jostling crowds with prudence to decline, Oh! may I never such misfortune meet! When to assert the wall, and when resign,

May no such vicious walkers crowd the street ! I sing; thou, Trivia, goddess, aid my song,

May Providence o'ershade me with her wings,
Through spacious streets conduct thy bard along; While the bold Muse experienced danger sings !
By thee transported, I securely stray
Where winding alleys lead the doubtful way;

The silent court and opening square explore,
And long perplexing lanes untrod before.

Sweet woman is like the fair flower in its lustre,

Which in the garden enamels the ground;
To pare thy realm, and smooth the broken ways,
Earth from her womb a flinty tribute pays;

Near it the bees, in play, flutter and cluster,
For thee the sturdy pavior thumps the ground,

And gaudy butterflies frolic around. Whilst every stroke his labouring lungs resound; But when once plucked, 'tis no longer alluring, For thee the scavenger bids kennels glide

To Covent-Garden 'tis sent (as yet sweet), Within their bounds, and heaps of dirt subside. There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enduring, My youthful bosom burns with thirst of fame,

Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet. From the great theme to build a glorious name; To tread in paths to ancient bards unknown,

[The Poet and the Rose.] And bind my temples with a civic crown:

(From the Fables.'] But more my country's love demands my lays;

I hate the man who builds his name
My country's be the profit, mine the praise !
When the black youth at chosen stands rejoice,

On ruins of another's fame:
And clean your shoes' resounds from every voice;

Thus prudes, by characters o erthrown, When late their miry sides stage-coaches show,

Imagine that they raise their own; And their stiff horses through the town move slow;

Thus scribblers, covetous of praise, When all the Mall in leafy ruin lies,

Think slander can transplant the bays.

Beauties and bards have equal pride, And damsels first renew their oyster cries ;

With both all rivals are decried : Then let the prudent walker shoes provide,

Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature, Not of the Spanish or Morocco hide;

Must call her sister awkward creature;'
The wooden heel may raise the dancer's bound,

For the kind flattery's sure to charm,
And with the scalloped top his step be crowned :
Let firm, well-hammered soles protect thy feet

When we some other nymph disarm.

As in the cool of early day
Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet.
Should the big last extend the shoe too wide,

A poet sought the sweets of May,
Each stone will wrench the unwary step aside ;

The garden's fragrant breath ascends, The sudden tumn may stretch the swelling vein,

And every stalk with odour bends; Thy cracking joint unhinge, or ankle sprain;

A rose he plucked, he gazed, admired,
And, when too short the modish shoes are wor,

Thus singing, as the muse inspired-
You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn. 1 A town in Oxfordshire.
Nor should it prove thy less important care,

2 A Joseph, wrap-rascal, &c. To choose a proper coat for winter's wear.

3 A chocolate-house in St James's Street

Go, Rose, my Chloe's bosom grace; How happy should I prove, Might I supply that envied place With never-fading love! There, Phenix-like, beneath her eye, Involved in fragrance, burn and die. Know, hapless flower! that thou shalt find More fragrant roses there:

I see thy withering head reclined
With envy and despair!

One common fate we both must prove;
You die with envy, I with love.'

'Spare your comparisons,' replied
An angry Rose, who grew beside.
'Of all mankind, you should not flout us;
What can a poet do without us?
In every love-song roses bloom;
We lend you colour and perfume.
Does it to Chloe's charms conduce,
To found her praise on our abuse!
Must we, to flatter her, be made
To wither, envy, pine, and fade?'

[blocks in formation]

A haggard spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due:
"Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the shape of love destroy.
My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face,
Prove my pretension to the place.'

Stone urged his overgrowing force;
And, next, Consumption's meagre corse,
With feeble voice that scarce was heard,
Broke with short coughs, his suit preferred:
'Let none object my lingering way;
I gain, Like Fabius, by delay;
Fatigue and weaken every foe
By long attack, secure, though slow.'
Plague represents his rapid power,
Who thinned a nation in an hour.

All spoke their claim, and hoped the wand. Now expectation hushed the band, When thus the monarch from the throne: 'Merit was ever modest known. What, no physician speak his right! None here! but fees their toils requite. Let then Intemperance take the wand, Who fills with gold their zealous hand. You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest (Whom wary men as foes detest), Forego your claim. No more pretend; Intemperance is esteemed a friend;

He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And as a courted guest destroys.
The charge on him must justly fall,
Who finds employment for you all.'

The Hare and Many Friends.
Friendship, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child, whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.
'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.

A Hare, who in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like GAY,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies: She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round; Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay; What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appeared in view! Let me, says she, your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight, To friendship every burden's light. The Horse replied: Poor honest Puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus; Be comforted, relief is near, For all your friends are in the rear. She next the stately Bull implored, And thus replied the mighty lord: Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the Goat is just behind.

The Goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; My back, says he, may do you harm, The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm. The Sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: Said he was slow, confessed his fears, For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

She now the trotting Calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed. Shall I, says he, of tender age, In this important care engage! Older and abler passed you by ; How strong are those, how weak am I!. Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then. You know my heart; But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament! Adieu! For, see, the hounds are just in view!

The Lion, the Tiger, and the Traveller.

Accept, young prince, the moral lay,
And in these tales mankind survey;

You reason well. Yet tell me, friend,
Did ever you in courts attend !
For all my fawning rogues agree,
That human heroes rule like me.

With early virtues piant your breast,
The specious arts of vice detest.

Princes, like beauties, from their youth
Are strangers to the voice of truth;
Learn to contemn all praise betimes,
For flattery is the nurse of crimes :
Friendship by sweet reproof is shown
(A virtue never near a throne);
În courts such freedom must offend,
There none presumes to be a friend.
To those of your exalted station,
Each courtier is a dedication.
Must I, too, flatter like the rest,
And turn my morals to a jest?
The muse disdains to steal from those
Who thrive in courts by fulsome prose.
But shall I hide your real praise,
Or tell you what a nation says !
They in your infant bosom trace
The virtues of your royal race;
In the fair dawning of your mind
Discern you generous, mild, and kind :
They see you grieve to hear distress,
And pant already to redress.
Go on, the height of good attain,
Nor let a nation hope in vain;
For hence we justly may presage
The virtues of a riper age.
True courage shall your bosom fire,
And future actions own your sire.
Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to save.

A Tiger, roaming for his prey,
Sprung on a Traveller in the way;
The prostrate game a Lion spies,
And on the greedy' tyrant flies ;
With mingled roar resounds the wood,
Their teeth, their claws, distil with blood;
Till, vanquished by the Lion's strength,
The spotted foe extends his length.
The man besought the shaggy lord,
And on his knces for life implored;
His life the generous hero gave.
Together walking to his cave,
The Lion thus bespoke his guest :

What hardy beast shall dare contest
My matchless strength? You saw the fight,
And must attest my power and right.
Forced to forego their native home,
My starving slaves at distance roam;
Within these woods I reign alone;
The boundless forest is my own.
Bears, wolves, and all the savage brood,
Have dyed the regal den with blood.
These carcasses on either hand,
Those bones that whiten all the land,
My former deeds and triumphs tell,
Beneath these jaws what numbers fell.

True, says the man, the strength I saw
Might well the brutal nation awe:
But shall a monarch, brave like you,
Place glory in so false a view?
Robbers invade their neighbour's right.
Be loved ; let justice bound your might.
Mean are ambitious heroes' boasts
Of wasted lands and slaughtered hosts.
Pirates their power by murders gain :
Wise kings by love and mercy reign.
To me your clemency hath shown
The virtue worthy of a throne.
Heaven gives you power above the rest,
Like Heaven, to succour the distrest.

The case is plain, the monarch said ;
False glory hath my youth misled;
For beasts of prey, a servile train,
Have been the flatterers of my reign.

Sweet William's Parewell to Black-Eyed Susan. All in the downs the fleet was moored,

The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard,

Oh! where shall I my true love find !
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me truc,
If my sweet William sails among the crew!
William, who high upon the yard

Rocked with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sighed, and cast his eyes below : The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands. So sweet the lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast
(If chance his mate's shrill call he hear),

And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
0! Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds ! my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind;
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find :
Yes, yes, beliere them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms,

Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,

William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard ;

They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land,
Adieu ! she cries, and waved her lily hand.

A Ballad.
(From the 'What-d'ye-call-it ?]
'Twas when the seas were roaring

With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclined.
Wide o'er the foaming billows

She cast a wistful look ;
Her head was crowned with willows,

That trembled o'er the brook.
Twelve months are gone and over,

And nine long tedious days ;
Why didst thou, venturous lover,

Why didst thou trust the seas ?
ease, cease thou cruel ocean,

And let my lover rest :
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast ?

The merchant robbed of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair;
But what's the loss of treasure,
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on,
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you so.
How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain ;
Why then, beneath the water,
Should hideous rocks remain ?
No eyes the rocks discover

That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.
All melancholy lying,

Thus wailed she for her dear;
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear.

When o'er the white wave stooping
His floating corpse she spied,

Then, like a lily drooping,

She bowed her head, and died.


Another friend of Pope and Swift, and one of the popular authors of that period, was THOMAS PARNELL (1679-1718). His father possessed considerable estates in Ireland, but was descended of an English family long settled at Congleton, in Cheshire. The poet was born and educated in Dublin,

Thomas Parnell.

went into sacred orders, and was appointed archdeacon of Clogher, to which was afterwards added, through the influence of Swift, the vicarage of Finglass, in the diocese of Dublin, worth £400 a-year. Parnell, like Swift, disliked Ireland, and seems to have considered his situation there a cheerless and irksome banishment. As permanent residence at their livings was not then insisted upon on the part of the clergy, Parnell lived chiefly in London. He married a young lady of beauty and merit, Miss Anne Minchen, who died a few years after their union. His grief for her loss preyed upon his spirits (which had always been unequal), and hurried him into intemperance. He died on the 18th of October, 1718, at Chester, on his way to Ireland.

Parnell was an accomplished scholar and a delightful companion. His life was written by Goldsmith, who was proud of his distinguished countryman, considering him the last of the great school that had modelled itself upon the ancients. Parnell's works are of a miscellaneous nature-translations, songs, hymns, epistles, &c. His most celebrated piece is the Hermit, familiar to most readers from their infancy. Pope pronounced it to be very good,' and its sweetness of diction and picturesque solemnity of style must always please. His Night Piece on Death was indirectly preferred by Goldsmith to Gray's celebrated Elegy; but few men of taste or feeling will subscribe to such an opinion. In the 'Night Piece, Parnell meditates among the tombs. Tired with poring over the pages of schoolmen and sages, he sallies out at midnight to the churchyard

How deep yon azure dyes the sky!
Where orbs of gold unnumbered lie;
While through their ranks, in silver pride,
The nether crescent seems to glide.
The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe,
The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled show
Descends to meet our eyes below.
The grounds, which on the right aspire,
In dimness from the view retire:
The left presents a place of graves,
Whose wall the silent water laves.
That steeple guides thy doubtful sight
Among the livid gleams of night.
There pass, with melancholy state,
By all the solemn heaps of fate,
And think, as softly sad you tread
Above the venerable dead,
'Time was, like thee, they life possessed,
And time shall be that thou shalt rest.'
Those with bending osier bound,

That nameless heave the crumbled ground,
Quick to the glancing thought disclose
Where toil and poverty repose.

The flat smooth stones that bear a name,
The chisel's slender help to fame
(Which, ere our set of friends decay,
Their frequent steps may wear away),
A middle race of mortals own,
Men, half ambitious, all unknown.
The marble tombs that rise on high,
Whose dead in vaulted arches lie,
Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones,
Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones;
These all the poor remains of state,
Adorn the rich, or praise the great;
Who, while on earth in fame they live,
Are senseless of the fame they give.


The Hermit. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well; Remote from men, with God he passed his days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. A life so sacred, such serene repose, Seemed heaven itself, till one suggestion roseThat vice should triumph, virtue vice obey; This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway; His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, And all the tenor of his soul is lost. So, when a smooth expanse receives impressed Calm nature's image on its watery breast, Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, And skies beneath with answering colours glow; But, if a stone the gentle sea divide, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side,

And glimmering fragments of a broken sun,

Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run.

Driven by the wind, and battered by the rain. To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, At length some pity warmed the master's breast To find if books, or swains, report it right

('Twas then his threshold first received a guest); (For yet by swains alone the world he knew,

Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew), And half he welcomes in the shivering pair; He quits his cell; the pilgrim-staff he bore,

One frugal faggot lights the naked walls, And fixed the scallop in his hat before;

And Nature's fervour through their limbs recalls ; Then, with the rising sun, a journey went,

Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine, Sedate to think, and watching each event.

(Each hardly granted), served them both to dine ; The morn was wasted iu the pathless grass, And when the tempest first appeared to cease, And long and lonesome was the wild to pass ;, A ready warning bid thern part in peace. But, when the southern sun had warned the day, With still remark, the pondering hermit viewed, A youth came posting o'er a crossing way;

In one so rich, a life so poor and rude; His raiment decent, his complexion fair,

And why should such (within himself he cried) And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair;

Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside ? Then, near approaching, ' Father, hail !' he cried, But what new marks of wonder soon take place And, Hail, my son ! the reverend sire replied. In every settling feature of his face, Words followed words, from question answer flowed, When, from his vest, the young companion bore And talk, of various kind, deceived the road;

That cup, the generous landlord owned before, Till each with other pleased, and loath to part, And paid profusely with the precious bowl, While in their age they differ, join in heart.

The stinted kindness of this churlish soul ! Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,

But now the clouds in airy tumult fiy;
Thus useful ivy clasps an elm around.

The sun emerging, opes an azure sky;
Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day A fresher green the smelling leaves display,
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray;

And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day: Nature, in silence, bid the world repose,

The weather courts them from their poor retreat, When, near the road, a stately palace rose.

And the glad master bolts the weary gate. There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought Whose verdure crowned their sloping sides with grass. With all the travail of uncertain thought: It chanced the noble master of the dome

His partner's acts without their cause appear ; Still made his house the wandering stranger's home; 'Twas there a vice, and secmed a madness here: Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Proved the vain flourish of expensive ease.

Lost and confounded with the various shows. The pair arrive; the liveried servants wait;

Now night's dim shades again involve the sky; Their lord receives thein at the pompous gate; Again the wanderer's want a place to lie; The table groans with costly piles of food,

Again they search, and find a lodging nigh.
And all is more than hospitably good.

The soil iinproved around, the mansion neat,
Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, And neither poorly low, nor idly great ;
Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. It seemed to speak its master's turn of mind,
At length 'tis morn, and, at the dawn of day, Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind.
Along the wide canals the zephyrs play;

Hither the walkers turn their weary feet,
Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, Then bless the mansion, and the master greet.
And shake the neighbouring wood to banish sleep. Their greeting fair, bestowed with modest guise,
Up rise the guests, obedient to the call,

The courteous master hears, and thus replies :An early banquet decked the splendid hall;

* Without a vain, without a grudging heart, Rich luscious wine a golden goblet graced,

To him who gives us all, 1 yield a part; Which the kind master forced the guests to taste. From him you come, for him accept it here, Then, pleased and thankful, from the porch they go ; A frank and sober, more than costly cheer! And, but the landlord, none had cause of wo; He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, His cup was vanished; for in secret guise,

Then talked of virtue till the time of bed; The younger guest purloined the glittering prize. When the grave household round his hall repair, As one who spies a serpent in his way,

Warned by a bell, and close the hours with prayer. Glistening and basking in the summer ray,

At length the world, renewed by calm repose, Disordered stops to shun the danger near,

Was strong for toil; the dappled morn arose ; Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road,

Near a closed cradle where an infant slept, The shining spoil his wily partner showed.

And writhed his neck : the landlord's little pride, He stopped with silence, walked with trembling heart, O strange return ! grew black, and gasped, and And much he wished, but durst not ask to part;

died ! Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard Horror of horrors ! what ! his only son ! That generous actions meet a base reward.

How looked our hermit when the fact was done! While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds, Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds ; And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. A sound in air presaged approaching rain,

Confused, and struck with silence at the deed, And beasts to covert scud across the plain.

He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed; Warned by the signs, the wandering pair retreat His steps the youth pursues: the country lay To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat.

Perplexed with roads; a servant showed the way; 'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground,

A river crossed the path ; the passage o'er And strong, and large, and unimproved around; Was nice to find; the servant trod before ; Its owner's temper, timorous and severe,

Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, Unkind and griping, caused a desert there.

And deep the waves beneath them bending glide. As near the miser's heavy door they drew,

The youth, who seemed to watch a time to sin, Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew;

Approached the careless guide, and thrust him in; The nimble lightning, mixed with showers, began, Plunging he falls, and rising, lifts his head, And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran; Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.


« ZurückWeiter »